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THE 


MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 


FROM  ST.  BENEDICT  TO  ST.  BERNARD. 


BY 

THE   COUNT  DE  MONTALEMBERT, 

MEMBER  OF  THE  FRENCH  ACADEMY. 


FIDE   ET   VERITATE. 


VOL.   I. 


BOSTON: 

MARLIER,   CALLANAN  &   CO. 

173    Tremont   St. 


^  7/ 

A1  lUrnQ^ 


\l. 


/3<|  01- 


DEDICATION. 


TO    POPE    PIUS    IX. 

Most  Holy  Father, 

I  lay  at  the  feet  of  your  Holiness  a  book  which,  for  many 
reasons,  owes  its  homage  to  you.  Intended  to  vindicate  the 
glory  of  one  of  the  greatest  institutions  of  Christianity,  this 
work  specially  solicits  the  benediction  of  the  Vicar  of  Jesus 
Christ,  the  supreme  head  and  natural  protector  of  the 
Monastic  Order.  Long  and  often  interrupted,  sometimes 
for  the  service  of  the  Church  and  of  yourself,  these  studies 
were  taken  up  again  at  the  voice  of  your  Holiness,  when, 
amid  the  enthusiasm  not  to  be  forgotten  which  hailed  your 
accession,  you  declared,  in  a  celebrated  encyclical  letter,  the 
duties  and  rights  of  the  Religious  Orders,  and  recognized 
in  them  "  those  chosen  phalanxes  of  the  army  of  Christ 
which  have  always  been  the  bulwark  and  ornament  of  the 
Christian  republic,  as  well  as  of  civil  society."  ^ 

Your  Holiness  is  well  aware,  moreover,  that  this  hom- 
age is  in  no  way  intended  to  withdraw  from  criticism 
or   discussion,  a  work   subject   to   all   human  imperfections 

•  "Lectissimas  illas  auxiliares  Christi  militura  turmas,  quae  maximo  tuna 
Christianae,  turn  civili  reipublicae  usui,  ornamento  atque  prsesidio  semper 
fuerunt." — Encyclical  Letter  of  June  17,  1847. 

ill 


IV  DEDICATION. 

and   uncertainties,  and  which  assumes  only  to   enter   upon 
questions  open  to  the  free  estimate  of  all  Christians. 

It  is  solely  in  consideration  of  the  melancholy  and  sin- 
gular circumstances  in  which  we  are  placed,  that  you  wiL 
design,  most  Holy  Father,  to  hear,  and  perhaps  to  grant, 
the  desire  of  one  of  your  most  devoted  sons,  ambitious  of 
imprinting  upon  the  labor  of  twenty  years  th'j  seal  of  his 
uiTectionate  veneration  for  your  person  and  your  authority. 
What  Catholic  could,  in  our  days,  give  himself  up  to  the 
peaceful  study  of  the  past,  without  being  troubled  by  the 
thought  of  the  dangers  and  trials  by  which  the  Holy  See 
is  at  present  assailed,  without  desiring  to  offer  up  a  fihal 
tribute  to  him  in  whom  we  revere,  not  only  the  minister 
of  infallible  truth,  but  also  the  image  of  justice  and  good 
faith,  of  courage  and  honor,  shamefully  overpowered  by 
violence  and  deceit  ? 

Accept,  then,  most  Holy  Father,  this  humble  offering  of 
h,  heart  inspired  by  a  sincere   admiration  for  your  virtues, 
an   ardent   and   respectful  sympathy  for  your  sorrows,  and 
an  unshaken  fideHty  to  your  imprescriptible  rights. 
I  am,  with  the  deepest  respect, 
Your  Holiness's 

Most  humble  and  most  obedient 
Servant  and  Son, 

CH.  DE  MONTALEMBERT. 
Apra  21,  1860. 


CONTHINTS. 


INTRODUCTION. 

CH^P.  PAOg 

1.   Origin  of  this  Work, 1 

II.    Fundamental  Charactek  of  Monastic  Institutions 5  i^'^ 

III.  Of  the  True  Nature  of  Monastic  Vocations, 11 

IV.  Services  rendered  to  Christendom  by  the  Monks, 2-3 

V.    Happiness  in  the  Cloister, 37 

VI.    Charges  against  the  Monks— Monastic  Wealth, 59 

VII.    Decline, 73 

VIII.    Ruin, 97 

IX. "  The  True  and  False  Middle  Ages,     113 

X.    Of  the  Fortune  of  this  Book, 135 


BOOK  I. 

THE  ROMAN  EMPIEE  AFTER  THE  PEACE  OF  THE  CHURCH. 

The  Roman  Empire,  converted  to  Christianity,  offers  a  more  sad  and  surprising  spectacle 
than  under  the  Pagan  Caisars.  —  The  alliance  of  the  priesthood  and  the  Empire  hinders 
neither  tlie  ruin  of  the  State  nor  the  servitude  of  the  Church.  —  The  Fathers  of  the 
Cliurch  unanimously  acknowledged  the  precocious  decay  of  the  Christian  world.  — 
Action  of  the  Imperial  power  on  the  Church.  —  Personal  intervention  of  the  Emperors 
in  theology ;  every  heresiarch  finds  an  auxiliary  upon  the  throne ;  persecutions  and  op- 
pressions more  cruel  tlian  before  Constantine.  —  The  divinity  of  the  prince  still  pro 
claimed  under  Theodosius.  —  Civil  society,  Christian  by  name,  remains  subject  at  heart 
to  Paganism  in  its  most  degenerate  form.  —  Uncurbed  despotism  of  the  Emperors;  tor- 
tures of  taxation.  —  Universal  destruction  in  the  East ;  universal  confusion  in  the 
West.  —  Military  degradation;  moral  abiectness;  derisive  equality  of  the  Roman 
Citizens  ;  social  impotence  of  the  Roman  laws. —  Virtue  and  freedom  are  only  found 
in  the  Church,  who  would  not  resign  herself  to  the  impotence  of  civil  society,  but  did 
not  succeed  in  transforming  the  old  imperial  world.  —  In  order  to  preserve  the  whole 
of  Christendom  from  the  fate  of  the  Lower  Empire,  two  invasions  were  necessary, 
that  of  the  Barbarians  and  that  of  the  Monks, Page  14S 


a 


(V) 


VI  CONTENTS. 

BOOK  n. 

MONASTIC  PKECURSOKS    IN  THE  EAST. 

Origin  of  monastic  life  in  antiquity,  in  the  ancient  law,  in  the  Gospel.  —  It  1b  originated 
by  Jesus  Christ.  —  The  monks  appear,  to  succeed  the  martyrs  and  restrain  the  Bar- 
barians.—  Martyrdom  of  St.  Febronia,  nun  at  Nisibis. — The  Fathees  of  the 
Desert.  —  The  Thebaid.  —  St.  Anthony,  the  first  of  the  abbots:  his  influence  in 
the  Church;  multitude  of  his  disciples;  his  struggle  against  Arianism.  — St.  Paul,  first 
hermit. —  St.  Pacome,  author  of  the  first  written  rule,  founder  of  Tabenne.  —  The  two 
Ammons.  —  The  two  Macarii.  —  Meeting  with  a  tribune  upon  the  Nile.  —  Prodigioos 
number  of  monks  of  the  Thebaid :  their  laborious  life,  their  charity,  their  studies,  their 
zeal  for  the  orthodox  faith.  —  St.  Athanasius  concealed  in  the  Thebaid.  —  Paradise  in 
the  desert.  —  Nunneries  in  Egypt;  Alexandra,  Euphrosyne.  Converted  courtesans; 
Pelagia.  —  St.  Euphrasia.  —  The  monks  of  Sinai.  —  Hilarion  introduces  monastic  life 
into  Palestine.  —  Hilarion  and  Epiphanius  in  the  island  of  Cyprus. —  St.  Ephrem  in 
Mesopotamia.  —  St.  Simeon  Stylites  in  Syria.  —  Martyr  monks  in  Persia.  —  St.  Basil 
AND  St.  Gregory  of  Nazianzus  in  Cappadocia:  their  friendship,  their  monastic 
life,  their  part  in  the  Church.  —  Violent  opposition  against  the  monks  among  the 
pagans  and  Arians.the  rhetoricians  and  sophists,  and  among  many  Christians.  —  St. 
John  Chrysostom  constitutes  himself  their  apologist;  his  treatise  against  the  detrac- 
tors of  monastic  life.  —  His  conduct  towards  them  as  Archbisliop  of  Constantinople. 

—  He  is  maltreated  by  the  monks  at  Caesarea.  —  The  monks  at  Antloch  under  Theodo 
sius.  —  Telemachus  puts  a  stop  to  the  fights  of  the  gladiators. —  Decay  of  the 
Monks  of  the  East,  who  end  by  becoming  slaves  of  Islamism  and  accomplices  of 
Bchism, Pagft  149 

BOOK  III. 

MONASTIC  PRECURSORS   IN   THE   WEST. 

St.  Athanasius,  exiled,  propagates  the  monastic  order  in  the  West  and  at  Rome, 
where  religious  life  had  already  been  known  during  the  last  persecutions  :  Aglae  and 
Boniface. —  Development  in  Italy:  Eusebius  of  Vercelli. — Movement  of  the 
Roman  Nobility  towards  Monastic  Life  :  last  ray  of  aristocratic  glory  buried  in 
the  cloister.  — The  family  Anicia.  —  The  holy  and  religious  patrician  ladies  :  Marcella. 

—  Furia. —  Paula  and  her  daughters.  —  Paulina  and  her  husband  Pammachius  :  Fa- 
biola.—  St.  Jerome,  guide  and  historian  of  these  holy  women.  —  His  monastic  life  at 
Chalcls  and  Bethlehem :  he  writes  the  Lives  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Desert,  and  points 
out  tlie  errors  of  the  false  monks  of  his  times.  —  Roman  Emigration  into  Pales- 


CONTENTS.  vii 

TINE,  —  Jerome  attracts  to  JeniBalem  St.  Paula  and  her  daughter  Eustochia :  death  of 
Paula. —  The  two  Melanlas  at  Jerusalem,  at  Rome,  in  Africa. —  St  Paulinus  of  Nola 
and  his  wife  Theresa.  —  Opposition  against  the  Monks:  popular  invectives  ;  the 
poet  Rutilius.  —  St.  Ambrose  defends  them.  —  His  book  De  Virglnitate ;  note  on  the 
use  of  the  veil.  —  St.  Augustine  :  influence  of  the  Life  of  St.  Anthony  by  Athanasius, 
and  the  example  of  the  monks  on  his  conversation :  he  lives  always  in  the  strictest  se- 
clusion. —  Kule  of  St.  Augustin^.  —  His  treatise  De  Opere  Monachorum  against  the 
idle  monks. —  St.  Fulgentius.  —  The  Monks  in  Gaul. —  St.  Athanasius.— St. 
Martin,  soldier,  monk,  and  bishop.  —  His  relations  with  St.  Hilary.  —  He  founds  at 
Liguge  the  first  monastery  of  the  Gauls.  —  His  great  position  ia  Bishop  of  Tours:  ho 
protests  against  religious  persecution.  —  He  founds  Marmoutier,  and  inhabits  there  one 
of  the  cells.  — Sulpicius  Severus:  the  monks  of  Gaul  rebel  against  fasting. —  The 
Monastery  of  Lerins:  its  doctors  and  its  saints  :  Honoratius,  Hilary  of  Aries,  Vin- 
cent of  Lerins,  Salvian,  Eucher,  Lupus  of  Troyes. —  St.  Caesarius  and  his  rule. — John 
Gassianus  and  St,  Victor  of  Marseilles.  —  Pelagianism  falsely  imputed  to  Lerins. — 
Other  Gaulish  monasteries :  Rdome  in  Burgundy.  —  Monasteries  in  Auvergne :  Aus- 
tremoine,  Urbicus,  the  Stylites.  —  Condat  in  the  Jura :  the  two  brothers  Romain  and 
Lupicin :  Eugende  and  Viveutiole.  — Influence  of  the  monks  upon  the  Burgundians.  — 
The  King  Sigismund  founds  in  Valais,  Agaune,  which  becomes  the  monastic  metropolis 
of  the  kingdom  of  Burgundy.  —  St.  Severus  exercises  the  same  sway  over  the  other 
Barbarians,  on  the  shores  of  the  Danube :  Meeting  of  Odoacee  and  Severin. —  SUM- 
.MARy :  portion  of  the  cenobitical  institution  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  century;  services 
already  rendered  to  Christendom;  duties  of  the  monks  in  the  Church;  they  are  not  yet 
counted  among  the  clergy,  yet  notwithstanding  almost  all  the  Fathers  and  great  doc- 
tors are  monks.  —  Abuses  and  Disorders:  monks  Gyrovagues  and  Sarabaites. — 
Multiplicity  and  diversity  of  rules.  —  The  monastic  institution  was  not  yet  regulated. 
—  A  sovereign  legislation  and  a  new  impulse  were  necessary:  which  St.  Benedict 
gave, , tt^e  221 


BOOK  IV. 

1 

ST,  BENEDICT. 

State  of  Europe  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  century :  debased  by  the  Empire,  divided  by  heresy, 
and  ravaged  by  the  invasions  of  the  Barbarians.  —  St.  Benedict  born  in  480,  aud  goes 
into  seclusion  at  Subiaco,  the  cradle  of  monastic  life.  —  His  trials.  —  His  mirscles. — 
His  departure  for  Moute  Cassino :  he  founds  there  the  principal  sanctuary  of  the  mo- 
nastic order.  —  Note  on  the  description  and  history  of  Monte  Cassino.  —  J>ife  of  Cas- 
sino.—  Relations  with  the  nObility. —  Solicitude  for  the  people.  —  Influence  over  tha 
Goths.  —  History  of  Galla.  —  Interview  with  Totila. —  The  Lombards. —  St.  Si'iolaa- 
tica.  — Death  of  Benedict. —  Analysis  of  his  rule:  the  first  made  for  the  West.  —Pre- 
amble. —  Two  dominant  ideas.  —  Work.  —  Obedience  qualified  by  the  nature  ana  origin 
of  the  authority.  —  Analogy  with  the  feudal  system.  —  Conditions  of  the  coinuiunity 


VIll  CONTENTS. 

thus  org^anized.  — Abdication  of  individual  property. —Novitiate.  —  Vow  of  Btability. 

—  Roman  wisdom    and  moderation.  —  Analysis  of  the  details.  —  Liturgy. Food. — 

Clothing.  — Penalties.  — Services.— Hospitality.  — The  Sick.— Summary  of  the  rul« 
by  Bossuet.  —  Benedict's  vision  of  the  world  in  a  single  ray.  — He  did  not  foresee  the 
Bocial  results  of  his  work. —  Immensity  of  these  results.— The  world  is  reconquered 
<'rom  the  Barbarians  by  the  monks, Pat^e  305 


BOOK  V. 

hi     GREGORY  THE  GREAT. —  MONASTIC  ITALY  AND  SPAIN  IN 
THE   SIXTH   AND   SEVENTH   CENTURIES. 

rASSiODOKUS:  his  monastic  retreat  and  his  Christian  academy  at  Viviers  in  Calabria.— 
The  disciples  of  Benedict  in  Sicily:  martyrdom  of  St.  Placidis.  —  Benkdictine  Mis- 
sion AND  MAiiTYR  MoNKS  IN  ITALY.  —  Kavages  of  the  Lombards:  they  overthrow 
Farfa  and  Novaleae.  —  First  destruction  of  Monte  Cassino. 

.St.  Gri;g<)ky  the  Great:  his  birth,  his  conversion;  he  becomes  a  monk  at  the  monas- 
tery of  St.  Andrea;  his  alms  and  fasts. —  lie  is  nuncio  at  Constantinople,  afterwards 
abbot  of  his  monastery;  his  severity  against  the  monastic  crime  of  retaining  individual 
property. —  His  desire  to  go  to  convert  the  Angles:  the  Romans  detain  him. — He  I3 
elected  Pope,  to  his  very  great  grief:  his  plaintive  letters  on  leaving  the  cloister. — 
State  of  the  world  and  of  the  Church  at  his  accession. — Italy  at  once  abandoned  and 
ground  down  by  the  Byzantine  emperors.  —  Relations  of  Gregory  with  the 
Lombards:  he  defends  Rome  against  them. —  Homilies  on  Ezokiel  interrupted. — 
Mediation  between  Byzantium  and  tlie  Lombards  :  Agilulf  and  Theodelinda.  —  Conver- 
sion of  the  Lombards.  — Dialogues  on  the  aniient  monks.-  His  struggles  against 
THE  Greeks.—  Conflict  with  John  the  Faster,  patriarch  of  Constantinople,  with  ref- 
erence to  the  title  of  universal  bishop:  he  desires  for  himself  only  the  title  of  servant 
of  the  servants  of  God. —  Conflict  with  the  Emperor  Maurice:  law  against  the  admis- 
sion of  soldiers  to  monasteries;  celebrated  letter  to  Maurice.  —  Maurice  dethroned  and 
slain  by  Phocas  :  congratulations  of  Gregory  to  the  new  emperor;  in  contrast  with  his 
courage  and  habitual  rectitude.  —  He  turns  towards  the  new  races,  becomes  their  ally 

.  and  instructor,  and  thus  begins  to  emancipate  the  Church  and  the  West  from  the 
Byzantine  yoke. —  His  relations  with  the  Franks  and  the  Burgundians:  Vir- 
gilius  of  Aries;  Brunehaut;  letter  to  the  young  king  Childebert.  —  Celebrafed  charter 
of  Autun,  in  which  the  temporal  supremacy  of  the  Papacy  over  royalty  is  proclaimed. 
—  Relations  with  the  bishops  of  Neustria.  —  His  respect  for  the  episcopate  and  for  the 
freedom  of  episcopal  elections. —  His  vast  correspondence:  universal  vigilance.— 
Order  re-established  in  St.  Peter's  patrimony.  —  He  protects  peasants,  freemen,  slaves, 
Jews.  —  His  conduct  towards  the  pagans  and  the  Donatists.  —  Services  rendered  to  the 
Liturgy  and  religious  art;  Gregorian  Chants;  musical  education.  — Ridiculous  slandet 


CONTENTS.  ix 

respecting  his  antipathy  to  classical  literature.  —  His  writings  :  TTie  Sacramentary, 
The  Pastoral,  The  Morals  .•  letters  and  homilies.  —  He  is  the  fourth  great  doctor  of  the 
Church, —  His  extreme  humility. —  He  remains  always  a  monk,  and  renders  the 
most  signal  services  to  the  monastic  order:  he  confirms  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict  at  the 
Council  of  Rome,  and  guarantees  the  liberty  and  property  of  the  monks,  —  Exemp- 
tions.—  Rigorous  distinction  between  monastic  life  and  the  ecclesiastical  state, — 
Monastic  discipline  is  reformed  and  enforced.  —  History  of  Venantius,  the  married 
monk.  —  Nunneries.  —  Gregory  watches  over  the  freedom  and  sincerity  of  vocations.  — 
Catella,  the  young  slave.  —  The  Abbey  of  Classe,  at  Ravenna,  protected  against  th« 
metropolitan;  monastic  foundations  in  Isauria  and  Jerusalem.  —  He  always  looks  back 
with  regret  to  cloistral  life,  and  habitually  surrounds  himself  with  monks;  he  makes 
them  bishops  and  legates.  —  Charities  and  monastic  hospitality.  —  His  cruel  sufferings 
his  last  letters. —  He  dies.  —  Ingratitude  of  the  Romans.  —  He  is  avenged  by  posterity, 
■^  His  true  greatness. 
iHE  Monks  in  Spain:  origin  of  the  order  in  Spain  conquered  by  the  Arian  Visigoths. 
—  St.  Donatus,  St.  Emilian.  St.  Martin  of  Dumes.  ^  St.  Leander,  monk  and  bishop  of 
Seville. —  School  of  Seville.  —  Martyrdom  of  Hermenegild;  exile  of  Leander:  ha 
meets  St.  Gregory  at  Constantinople ;  their  mutual  tenderness.  —  Conversion  of  King 
Recarede  and  of  the  Visigoth  nation,  under  tlie  auspices  of  Leander ;  their  relations 
with  Gregory.  —  The  family  of  Leauder :  his  sister  Florentine. — His  brother  Isidore: 
action  of  tlie  latter  on  the  monastic  order  and  Spain;  his  writings.  —  St.  Braulius. — 
Visigothic  formula  of  monastic  foundations.— School  of  Toledo:  Abbey  of  Agali. — 
lldefbnso  of  Toledo,  monk  <ind  bishop,  the  most  popular  saint  of  that  period.  — Coun- 
cils of  Toledo:  part  played  by  the  bishops;  intervention  of  the  laity;  decrees  and  doc- 
trines upon  royalty.  —  Harshness  against  the  Jews.  —  The  Fuero  Juezgo,  issued  by  the 
Councils  of  Toledo. —  King  Wamba  made  monk  in  spite  of  himself.  —  Monastic  exten- 
sion in  Lusitania. —  St.  Fructuosus  and  his  hind.  —  The  shores  of  the  Ocean  inhabited  by 
the  monks  in  preparation  for  the  conquest  and  invasion  of  the  New  World,  .  Page  347 


BOOK  VI. 

THE    MONKS    UNDER    THE    FIRST    MEROVINGIANS. 

1,  G^iTL  Conquered  by  the  Franks, —  State  of  Gaul  under  the  Roman  Empire.— 
Relative  benefits  from  the  invasion  of  the  Barbarians.  —  The  Franks  arrest  and  beat 
back  the  otiier  Barbarians.  —  Characteristics  of  the  government  of  the  Franks  in  Ganl : 
equality  of  the  Gauls  and  Franks.  —  Fatal  contact  of  Frank  barbarity  and  the  depravity 
of  the  Gallo-Romans. —  The  nobility  of  the  two  races  restrain  the  kings,  who  incliua 
to  autocracy  and  the  Roman  system  of  taxation.  —  The  Franks  alone  escape  Arianism  i 
they  respect  the  liberty  of  religion,  —  Munificence  of  the  Merovingians  towards  th« 


X  CONTENTS. 

monasteries,  strangely  mixed  with  their  vices  and  crimes. — The  monks  secure  the 
civilizing  influence  of  the  Church  over  the  Franks. 

II.  ARiiiVAL  OF  THE  Benedictixes  IN  GAUL.  —  St.  Maur  at  Glanfeuil  in  Anjou.  — 
Propagation  of  the  Benedictine  rule.  —  First  encounter  of  Frank  royalty  with  the  sons 
of  St.  Benedict.—  Theodebert  and  St.  Maur. 

IIL  Previous  relations  between  the  Merovingians  and  the  Monks.  — Clovis 
acd  his  sons.  —  Foundation  of  Mlcy,  near  Orleans. —  Clovis  and  St.  Maixent.  —  St. 
Leobin  tortured  by  the  Franks.  — The  sister  and  daughter  of  Clovis  become  nuns: 
the  latter  founds  St.  Pierre-le-Vif  at  Sens.  — The  monasteries  of  Auvergne,  ransom  of 
prisoners  and  refuge  of  slaves  s  Basolus  and  Porclanus. —  Thierry  I.  and  St.  Nizier.- 
Clodomer,  the  Abbot  Avitus,  and  St.  Cloud. — The  tonsure  and  the  forced  vocations.— 
Childebert,  the  monastic  king  par  excellence  >  his  relations  with  St.  Eusice  in  Berry, 
and  St.  Marculph  in  Neustria.  —  Emigration  of  the  British  monks  into  Armorica :  con- 
tinued existence  of  paganism  in  that  peninsula :  poetical  traditions.  —  Conversion  of 
Armorica  by  the  British  emigrants.  —  The  Christian  bards:  Ysulio  and  the  blind 
Herve.  —  Armorican  monasteries:  Khuys;  St.  Matthew  of  the  Land's  End;  Lande- 
venec;  Dol;  Samson,  Abbot  of  Dol,  and  Archbishop.  —  The  seven  saints  of  Brittany, 
bishops  and  monks.  —  Their  intercourse  with  Childebert.  —  St.  Germain,  Bishop  of 
Paris;  Abbey  of  St.  Germain-des-Prfes.  —  Clotaire  I.  and  St.  Medard,  —  Gregory  of 
Tours  and  the  sons  of  Clotaire.—  Note  on  the  foundations  of  King  Gontran  in  Bur- 
gundy. —  The  Abbot  Aredius  protests  against  the  fiscal  system  of  Chllperic,  and  frees 
his  serfs.  —  Maternal  love  and  monastic  song. 

IV.  St.  Kadegund.  —  Her  origin  and  her  captivity.  —  Clotaire  mates  her  his  wife.  — 
Note  on  St.  Consortia.  —  Kadegund  takes  the  veil  from  the  hands  of  St.  Medard,  estab- 
lishes herself  at  Poitiers,  and  founds  there  the  monastery  of  St.  Croix.  —  Clotaire 
wishes  to  reclaim  her :  St.  Germain  prevents  him.  —  Cloister  life  of  Kadegund.  —  Her 
journey  to  Aries.  —  Her  relations  with  Fortunatus. —  Her  poetry.  —  Her  indlflference 
to  the  outer  world ;  her  solicitude  for  peace  among  the  Merovingian  princes.  —  Her 
austerities.  —  Her  friendship  for  the  Benedictine  St.  Junlan.  They  both  died  on  the 
same  day.  —  Revolt  of  the  nuns  of  St.  Croix  under  Chrodleld  and  Basine,  princesses  of 
the  Merovingian  blood.  —  This  occurs  at  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  Columbanus,  the 
great  Celtic  missionary,  in  Gaul. 

V.  The  Monks  and  Nature.  —  Gaul  covered  with  forests  from  the  fifth  to  the  seventh 
century.  —  Invasion  of  the  solitude;  St.  Liephard  at  Meung-sur-Loire :  deserts  in 
Gaul.  —  The  monks  in  the  forests.  —  St.  Seine  in  Burgundy.  —  St.  Imler  in  Jura.  —  St. 
Junlan  in  Limousin.  —  The  anchorites  of  the  woods  transformed  into  monks  by  tho 
multitude  which  followed  them.  —  St.  Laumer  in  Perche.  —  St.  Maglorius  in  Armorica 
and  Jersey.  —  Donations  of  Frankish  nobles ;  some  accepted,  others  refused ;  St.  Lau- 
mer once  more  :  popular  discontents.  —  St.  Malo. 

The  monks  and  the  brigands:  St.  Seine  and  St.  Evroul. — The  monks  and  the  hunters: 
Brachio  and  the  wild  boar,  at  Menat.  —  Right  of  shelter  for  game.  —  St.  Calais  and  his 
bufi'alo :  Childebert  and  Ultrogotha.  —  St.  Marculph  and  his  hare.  —  St.  Giles  and  his 
hind.  —  The  Abbess  Nlnnok.  —  St.  Desle  and  Clotaire  II.  —  St.  Basle  and  his  wild  boar. 
—  St.  Laumer  and  his  hind.  —  Supernatural  empire  of  the  monks  over  the  animals,  thfl 


CONTENTS.  xi 

consequence  of  man's  return  to  innocence.  —  Miracles  in  History.-  Vivos,  Titua 
Livius,  De  Mnistre.  —  The  moults  and  the  wild  beasts  in  the  Thebaid.  —  Gerasimus  and 
bis  lion.  —  St.  Martin  and  his  plungeons.  —  St.  Benedict  and  his  raven.  —  The  monks 
and  the  birds  in  Gaul :  St.  Maxent;  St.  Valery;  St.  Calais;  St.  Male;  St.  Maglorius. 
—  Sites  of  monasteries  indicated  by  animals:  Fecamp.  —  St.  Thierry;  St.  Berchaire  at 
Hautvilliers.  —  Domestication  of  wild  beasts  by  the  monks:  Celtic  legends:  the 
wolves  and  stags  :  Herve,  Pol  de  Leon,  Colodocus.  —  St.  Leonor  and  the  stags  at  the 
plough. — Agricultural  works  of  the  monks  in  the  forest.  —  Clearings. —  St.  Brieuc  — 
Fruit-trees. —  Various  occupations. —  Influence  of  their  example  on  the  rural  popula- 
tions —  St.  Fiacre  and  his  garden.  —  Karilef  and  his  treasure.  —  Theodulph  and  his 
plough.  —  Solicitude  of  the  monks  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  the  peasants.  —  Council 
of  Rouen.  —  The  forest  canticle,  the  monastic  spring  in  the  woods, .      .  :  .  .  Page  437 


BOOK   VII. 

ST.  COLUMBANUS.  —  THE  IRISH  IN  GAUL  AND  THE  COLONIES 
OF   LUXEUIL. 

Ireland,  converted  by  two  slaves,  becomes  Christian  without  having  been  Roman.  — 
Legend  of  St.  Patrick  :  the  bards  and  the  slaves;  St.  Bridget;  the  lamp  of  Kildare. 
—  The  Irish  monasteries  :  Bangor:  St.  Luan.  —  The  Irish  missionaries.— BiETH  AND 
Education  of  St.  Colcmbanus;  his  mission  in  Gaul;  his  sojourn  at  Annegray; 
the  wolves  and  the  Sueve  brigands.  —  He  settles  at  Luxeuil;  state  of  Sequania:  great 
influx  of  disciples;  Laus  perennis.  —  Episcopal  opposition:  haughty  letter  of  Colum- 
banus  to  a  council.  —  His  struggle  with  Brunehault  and  Thierry  II. :  St.  Mar- 
tin of  Autun  founded  by  Brunehault :  first  expulsion  of  Columbanus;  the  young  Agi- 
Iub;  Columbanus  at  Besangon;  return  to  Luxeuil. —  He  is  again  expelled  !  hie  voyage 
on  the  Loire ;  arrival  at  Nantes ;  letter  to  the  monks  at  Luxeuil,  —  He  goes  to  Clotaire 
II.,  King  of  Neustria,  and  to  Theodebert  II.,  King  of  Austrasia.  —  His  mission  to  the 
Alamans ;  St.  Gall ;  the  dialogue  of  the  demons  on  the  lake.  —  He  abandons  the  con- 
version of  the  Sclaves,  and  returns  to  Theodebert;  defeat  and  death  of  this  king 

Columbanus  crosses  the  Alps  and  passes  into  Lombardy.  —  He  founds  Bobbio;  his 
poems ;  his  remonstrances  with  Pope  Boniface  IV.  —  Clotaire  II.  recalls  him  to  Gaul  s 
he  refuses  and  dies.  —  He  was  neither  the  enemy  of  kings  nor  of  popes.  —  Rule  of 
Columbanus  :  the  Penitential. 

Disciples  of  Columbanus  in  Italy  and  Helvetia,  — His  successors  at  Bobbio ;  Attains 
and  Bertulph ;  the  Arian  Ariowald  and  the  monk  Blidulf.  —  Abbey  of  Disseptls  in 
Rbetia :  St.  Sigisbert.  —  St.  Gall  separates  from  Columbanus ;  origin  of  the  abbey 
called  by  his  name;  the  demons  again. — Princess  Frideburga  and  her  betrothed.— 
Gall  is  reconciled  to  Columbanus  and  dies. 

Influence,  pbepondeeance,  and  prosperity  of  Luxeuil  under  St.  Eustace,  flrrt 
successor  of  Coiumbanus.  —  Luxeuil  l)ecome8  the  monastic  capital  of  Gaul  and  the  first 


xii  CONTENTS. 

8cho(?l  of  Christendom  :  bishops  and  saints  issue  from  Luxeuil :  Hermenfriod  of  Ver- 
dun.—  Schism  of  Agrestin  subdued  at  the  council  of  Macon;  the  Irish  tonsure;  Note 
on  Bishop  Faron  and  his  wife.  —  The  Benedictine  rule  adopted  in  conjunction  with  the 
institution  of  Luxeuil.  —  The  double  consulate. —  St.  Walbert,  third  abbot  of  Luxeuil, 
—  Exemption  accorded  by  Pope  John  IV. 

Colonies  of  Luxeuil  in  the  two  Burg-undies  :  St.  Desle  at  Lure  and  Clotaire  II.  —  The 
ducul  family  of  St.  Donatus  :  Romainmoutier  re-established;  the  nuns  of  Jusaamou- 
tier;  Beze;  Bregille.  —  The  abbot  Hermenfried  atCusance:  he  kisses  the  hands  of  the 
husbandmen. 

Colonies  of  Luxeuil  in  Rauracia:  St.  Ursanne;  St.  Germain  of  Grandval,  first  martyr  of 
the  Columbanic  institution. 

Colonies  of  Luxeuil  in  Ncustria:  St.  Wandregisil  at  Fontenelle:  he  converted  the  coun- 
try of  Caux:  St.  Philibert  at  Jumi^ges;  commerce  and  navigation;  death  of  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  saints  of  Jumieges. 

Colonies  of  Luxeuil  in  Brie  and  Champagne:  St.  Ouen  and  his  brothers;  Jouarre. —  St. 
Agilus  at  Rebais;  hospitality;  vision  of  the  poor  traveller. —  Burgundofara  braves 
martyrdom  to  be  made  a  nun,  and  v?hen  abbess,  repels  the  schismatic  Agrestin.  —  Her 
brother  St.  Faron  and  King  Clotaire  II.  hunting.  —  St.  Fiacre,  St.  Fursy,  St.  Frobert 
at  Moutier-la-Celle,  St.  Berchaire  at  Hautvillers  and  Moniier-en-Der,  —  St.  Salaberga 
at  Laon. 

Colonies  of  Luxeuil  in  Ponthieu;  the  shepherd  Valery,  gardener  at  Luxeuil,  founder  of 
Leuconaus.  —  Popular  opposition.  —  St.  Riquier  at  Centule. 

Colonies  of  Luxeuil  among  the  Morins :  St.  Omer  and  St.  Bertiu  at  Sithiu;  change  of  the 
name  of  monasteries. 

The  Saints  of  Remiremont :  Amatus  and  Romaric;  the  double  monasteries;  Agres- 
tin at  Remiremont;  Romaric  and  the  maire  du  palais  Grimoald.  —  St.  Eligius  and 
Solignac. 

Why  was  the  rule  of  St.  ColumbanuB  rejected  and  replaced  by  that  of  St.  Benedict  ?  The 
Co«ncil  of  Autun  acknowledges  only  the  latter.  The  Council  of  Rome  in  610  confirmed 
it.  It  was  identified  with  the  authority  of  the  Holy  See,  and  thus  succeeded  in  govern- 
ing all, Page  Ml 


BOOK   VIII. 

CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF  THE  BRITISH  ISLES. 

CHAPTER  I. 

GREAT  BRITAIN  BEFORE  THE  CONVERSION  OF  THE   SAXONS. 

Character  of  the  English  nation.  — Heir  of  the  Romans,  it  borrows  from  them  only  their 
grandeur  and  their  pride.  —  From  whence  comes  its  religion .'  From  popes  and  monks. 
—  England  has  been  made  by  monks,  as  France  by  bishops.  —  The  heroes  wlio  resisted 


CONTENTS.  xiii 

the  Empire:  Caractacus,  Boadicea,  Galgacus.  —  No  trace  of  Roman  law  exists  in  Bri 
tain;  all  is  Celtic  or  Teutonic. —  Britain  the  first  of  the  Western  nations  which  could 
live  without  Rome,  and  the  first  which  could  resist  the  barbarians.  —  Ravages  of  the 
Picts — Gildas.  —  Arrival  of  the  Ang-lo-Saxons  in  Britain. —  Their  destruction  of 
primitive  Christianity.  —  Origin  of  British  Christianity.  —  The  proto-martyr  St.  Alban. 

—  Ravages  of  the  Saxons.  —  Liberal  aid  given  by  the  Papacy.  —  Mission  of  Palladius, 
and  afterwards  of  St.  Germain  of  Auxerre.  —  Battle  of  the  Hallelujah.  —  Tlie  Britoo 
Ninian  becomes  the  apostle  of  the  Southern  Picts His  establishment  at  Whitehorn. 

—  Ferocity  of  the  Caledonians.  —  His  death. —  Glastonbury:  legend  of  Joseph  of  Art 
mathea :  tomb  of  King  Arthur.  —  Position  of  Britain  between  the  years  450  and  550.  — 
The  four  different  races :  the  Picts,  the  Scots,  the  Britons,  and  the  Saxons.  —  From 
whence  did  the  light  of  the  Gospel  come  to  the  Saxons  ? Page  &13 

CHAPTER  n. 

THE    SAINTS  AND   MONKS   OF  WALES. 

The  British  refugees  in  Cambria  mamTain  there  the  genius  of  the  Celtic  race.  —  Testi- 
mony rendered  to  the  virtues  of  the  Welsh  by  their  enemy  Giraldus.  —  Music  and  po- 
etry: the  bards  and  their  triads.  —  Devotion  to  the  Christian  faith.  —  King  Arthur 
crowned  by  the  Bishop  Dubricius.  —  Alliance  between  the  bards  and  the  monies  :  the 
bard  surprised  by  the  flood.  —  A  few  names  which  float  in  the  ocean  of  legends.— 
Mutual  influence  of  Cambria,  Armorica,  and  Ireland  upon  each  other:  their  legends 
identical.  —  The  love  of  the  Celtic  monks  for  travel.  —  Foundation  of  the  episcopal 
monasteries  of  St.  Asaph  by  Kentigern,  of  LlandafT  by  Dubricius,  of  Bangor  by  Iltud, 
a  converted  bandit.  —  St.  David,  monk  and  bishop,  the  Benedict  of  Wales.  —  His  pil- 
grimage to  Jerusalem,  from  which  he  returns  archbishop. — The  right  of  asylum 
recognized.  —  He  restores  Glastonbury.  —  His  tomb  becomes  the  national  sanctuary  of 
Cambria.  —  Legend  of  St.  Cadoc  and  his  father  and  mother.  —  He  founds  Llancarvan, 
the  school  and  burying-place  of  the  Cambrian  race.  —  His  poetical  aphorisms ;  his  vast 
domains. —  He  protects  the  peasants.  —  A  young  girl  carried  ofi'  and  restored.  — Right 
of  asylum  as  for  St.  David. —  The  hate  of  Cadoc.  —  He  takes  refuge  in  Armorica,  prays 
for  Virgil,  returns  to  Britain,  and  there  perishes  by  the  sword  of  the  Saxons.  —  His 
name  invoked  at  the  battle  of  the  Thirty.  —  St.  Winifred  and  her  fountain.  —  St.  Beino, 
the  enemy  of  the  Saxons.  —  The  hatred  of  the  Cambrians  to  the  Saxons  an  obstacle  to 
the  coaversion  of  the  conquerors, Page  660 

CHAPTER  m. 

MONASTIC  IRELAND  AFTER  ST.   PATRICK. 

Ireland  escapes  the  Rome  of  the  Ceesars  to  be  invaded  by  the  Rome  of  the  Popes.  —  The 
British  assistants  of  St.  Patrick  carry  there  certain  usages  diflferert  from  those  of 
Rome.  —  Division  between  Patrick  and  his  fellow-laborers.  —  He  would  preach  tht 
VOL.  I.  b 


Xiv  CONTENTS. 

faith  to  all.  —  St.  Carantoc.  —  Emigrations  of  the  Welsh  to  Ireland,  and  of  the  Irish 
to  Wales.  —  Disciples  of  St.  David  in  Ireland.  —  Modonnoc  and  his  hees.  —  Immense 
monastic  development  of  Ireland  under  the  influence  of  the  Welsh  monks.  —  The  pecu- 
liar British  usages  have  nothing  to  do  with  doctrine. — Families  or  clans  transformed 
into  monasteries,  with  their  chiefs  for  abbots. —  The  three  orders  of  saints.  —  Irish 
missionaries  on  the  continent;  their  journeys  and  visions.  —  St.  Brendan  the  sailor.— 
Dega,  monk-bishop  and  sculptor.  —  Mochuda  the  shepherd  converted  by  means  of 
music.  —  Continual  preponderance  of  the  monastic  element.  —  Celebrated  foundations. 
—  Monasterboyce,  Glendalough,  and  Its  nine  churches.  —  Bangor,  from  which  came 
Columbanus,  the  reformer  of  the  Gauls,  and  Clonard.  from  which  issued  Columba,  the 
apostle  of  Caledonia, Page  643 


THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 


INTRODUCTION. 
CHAPTER  I. 

ORIGIN    OF   THIS    WORK. 

Cieterum  et  mihi,  vetustas  ros  soribenti,  nescio  quo  pacto,  antiquus  fit  anirans. 
Titus  Livius. 

This  work  originated  in  a  purpose  more  limited  Iban  its 
title  implies.  After  having  narrated,  more  than  twent}^  years 
since,  in  the  Histoire  de  Sainte  Elisabeth,  the  life  of  a  young 
woman  in  whom  was  epitomized  the  Catholic  poetry  of  suf- 
fering and  of  love,  and  whose  modest  and  forgotten  existence 
belonged  nevertheless  to  the  most  resplendent  epoch  of  the 
middle  ages,  I  had  proposed  to  myself  a  task  more  difficult: 
1  desired,  in  writing  the  life  of  a  great  monk,  to  contribute 
to  the  vindication  of  the  monastic  orders.  Happy  to  have 
been  able  to  attract  some  attention  to  an  aspect  uf  religious 
history  too  long  obscured  and  forgotten,  by  justifying  the 
action  of  Catholicism  upon  the  most  tender  and  exalted  senti- 
ments of  the  human  heart,  I  hoped,  by  a  sketch  of  another 
kind,  to  secure  the  same  suffrages  in  vindicating  Catholic 
and  historic  truth  upon  the  ground  where  it  has  been  most 
misconstrued,  and  where  it  still  encounters  the  greatest 
antipathies  and  prejudices. 

The  name  of  St.  Bernard  immediately  recurs  to  any  in- 
quirer who  seeks  the  most  accomplished  type  of  the  Eeligious. 
No  other  man  has  shed  so  much  glory  over  the  frock  of  the 
monk.  Yet,  notwithstanding,  strange  to  tell !  none  of  the 
numerous  authors  who  have  written  his  history,  excepting 
his  first  biographers,  who  commenced  their  work  during  his 
life,  seem  to  have  understood  the  fact  which  both  governed 
and  explained  his  career  —  his  monastic  profession.  By 
consent  of  all,  St.  Bernard  was  a  great  man  and  a  man  of 
genius ;    he  exercised  upon  his  age  an  ascendency  without 

VOL.  I.  1 


2  THE   MONKS    OF    THE   WEST. 

parallel;  he  reigned  by  eloquence,  virtue,  and  courage. 
More  than  once  he  decided  the  fate  of  nations  and  of  crowna 

—  at  one  time,  even,  he  held  in  his  hands  the  destiny  of  the 
Church.  He  was  able  to  inilucnco  Europe,  and  to  precipitate 
her  upon  the  East;  he  was  able  to  combat  and  overcome,  in 
Abailard,  the  precursor  of  modern  rationali&m.  All  the 
world  knows  and  says  as  much  —  by  consent  of  all  he  takes 
rank  by  the  side  of  Ximenes,  of  Richelieu,  and  of  Bossuet. 
But  that  is  not  enough.     If  he  was  — and  who  can  doubt  it? 

—  a  great  orator,  a  great  writer,  and  a  great  man  ;  he  neither 
knew  it  nor  cared  for  it.  He  was.  and  above  all  wished  to 
be,  something  entirely  different:  he  was  a  monk  and  a  saint; 
he  lived  in  a  cloister  and  worked  miracles. 

The  Church  has  established  and  defined  the  sanctity  of 
Bernard  —  but  history  remains  charged  with  the  mission  of 
recounting  his  life,  and  of  explaining  the  marvellous  influence 
which  he  exercised  upon  his  contemporaries. 

But  in  proceeding  to  study  the  life  of  this  great  man,  who 
was  a  monk,  we  find  that  the  popes,  the  bishops,  and  the 
saints,  who  were  then  the  honor  and  bulwark  of  Christian 
society,  came,  like  him.  all.  or  nearly  all,  from  the  monastic 
order.  What  were  they,  then,  these  monks?  —  from  whence 
came  they?  —  and  what  had  they  done  till  then  to  occupy  so 
high  a  place  in  the  destinies  of  the  world?  It  is  necessary, 
first  of  all,  to  resolve  these  questions. 

And  there  is  more.  In  attempting  to  judge  the  age  in 
which  St.  Bernard  lived,  we  perceive  that  it  is  impossible 
either  to  explain  or  to  comprehend  it  without  recognizing  it 
as  animated  by  the  same  breath  which  had  vivified  an  ante- 
rior epoch,  of  which  this  was  but  the  direct  and  faithful  con- 
tinuation. 

If  the  twelfth  century  did  homage  to  the  genius  and  the 
virtue  of  the  monk  Bernard,  it  is  because  the  eleventh  cen- 
tury had  been  regenerated  and  penetrated  by  the  virtue  and 
the  genius  of  the  monk  who  was  called  Gregory  VII, 
Neither  the  epoch  nor  the  work  of  Bernard  should  be  looked 
at  apart  from  the  salutary  crisis  which  had  prepared  the  one 
and  made  the  other  possible :  a  simple  monk  could  never 
have  been  heard  and  obeyed  as  Bernard  was,  if  his  undis- 
puted greatness  had  not  been  preceded  by  the  contests,  the 
trials,  and  the  posthumous  victory  of  that  other  monk  who 
died  six  years  before  his  birth.  It  is,  then,  necessary  not 
only  to  characterize  by  a  conscientious  examination  the  pon- 
tificate of  the  greatest  of  those  popes  who  have  proceeded 
from  the  monastic  class,  but  also  to  pass  in  review  the  whole 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

period  which  connected  tlie  last  struggles  of  Gregory  with 
the  lirst  efforts  of  Bernard,  and  to  thus  attempt  the  recital  of 
the  gravest  and  most  glorious  strife  in  which  the  Church 
ever  was  engaged,  and  in  which  the  monks  stood  foremost  in 
suffering  as  in  !inn.)r. 

But  even  that  is  not  enough.  Far  from  being  the  founders 
of  the  monastic  order,  Gregory  VII.  and  Bernard  were  but 
produced  by  it,  like  thousands  more  of  their  contemporaries, 
Tiiat  institution  had  existed  more  than  five  centuries  when 
these  great  men  learnt  how  to  draw  from  it  so  marvellous  a 
strength.  To  know  its  origin,  to  appreciate  its  nature  and 
its  services,  it  is  necessary  to  go  back  to  another  Gregory  — 
to  St.  Gregory  the  Great,  to  the  first  pope  who  came  from 
the  cloister ;  and  further  still,  to  St.  Benedict,  legislator  and 
patriarch  of  the  monks  of  the  West.  It  is  necessary  at  least 
to  glance  at  the  superhuman  efforts  made  during  these  five 
centuries  by  legions  of  monks,  perpetually  renewed, to  subdue, 
to  pacify,  to  discipline,  and  to  purify  the  savage  nations 
amongst  whom  they  labored,  and  of  whom  twenty  barbarous 
tribes  were  successively  transformed  into  Christian  nations. 
It  would  be  cruel  injustice  and  ingratitude  to  pass  by  in 
silence  twenty  generations  of  indomitable  laborers,  who  had 
cleared  the  thorns  from  the  souls  of  our  fathers,  as  they 
cleared  the  soil  of  Christian  Europe,  and  had  left  only  the 
labor  of  the  reaper  to  Bernard  and  his  contemporaries. 

The  volumes  of  which  I  now  begin  the  publication  are  des- 
tined to  this  preliminary  task. 

Ambitious  of  carrying  my  readers  with  me  on  the  way 
which  I  have  opened  to  myself,  my  intention  by  this  long 
preamble  has  been  to  show  what  the  Monastic  Order  was,  and 
what  it  had  done  for  the  Catholic  world,  before  the  advent  of 
St.  Bernard  to  the  first  place  in  the  esteem  and  admiration  of 
Christendom  in  his  time.  In  a  literary  point  of  view,  I  know, 
it  is  unwise  to  diffuse  thus  over  a  long  series  of  3'ears,  and  a 
multitude  of  names  for  the  most  part  forgotten,  the  interest 
which  it  would  be  so  easy  to  concentrate  upon  one  luminous 
point,  upon  one  superior  genius.  It  is  an  enterprise  of  which 
I  perceive  the  danger.  Besides,  in  showing  thus  so  many 
great  men  and  great  works  before  coming  to  him  who  oughi 
to  be  the  hero  of  my  book,  I  am  aware  that  I  enfeeble  the 
effect  of  his  individual  grandeur,  the  merit  of  his  devotion, 
the  animation  of  the  tale.  I  should  take  care  to  avoid  this 
peril  if  I  wrote  only  for  success.  But  there  is  to  every 
Christian  a  beauty  superior  to  art  —  the  beauty  of  truth. 
There  is  something  which  concerns  us  more  closelv  than  the 


4  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

glory  of  all  the  heroes  and  even  of  all  the  saints  —  and  that 
is,  the  honor  of  the  Church,  and  her  providential  progress 
through  the  midst  of  the  storms  and  darkness  of  history.  1 
was  loath  to  sacrifice  the  honor  of  an  august  institution,  too 
long  calumniated  and  proscribed,  to  tlie  honor  of  a  single 
man.  Had  I  even  been  thus  tempted,  that  hero  himself,.  Ber- 
nard, the  great  apostle  of  justice  and  of  truth,  would  have 
resented  my  so  doing  —  he  would  not  pardon  me  for  exalting 
himself  at  the  expense  of  his  predecessors  and  his  masters. 

The  subject,  thus  developed,  embraces  but  too  vast  a  field 
—  -it  belongs  at  once  to  the  present. and  to  the  past.  The 
links  which  attach  it  to  all  our  history  are  numerous  and 
manifest.  When  we  look  at  the  map  of  ancient  France,  or  of 
any  one  of  our  provinces,  no  matter  which,  we  encounter  at 
each  step  the  names  of  abbeys,  of  chapter-houses,  of  con- 
vents, of  priories,  of  hermitages,  which  mark  the  dwelling- 
place  of  so  many  monastic  colonies.  Wliere  is  the  town 
which  has  not  been  founded,  or  enriched,  or  protected  by 
some  religious  community?  Where  is  the  church  which 
owes  not  to  them  a  pation,  a  relic,  a  pious  and  popular  tradi- 
tion? Wherever  there  is  a  luxuriant  forest,  a  pure  stream, 
a  majestic  hill,  we  may  be  sure  that  Religion  has  there  left 
her  stamp  by  the  hand  of  the  monk.  That  impression  has 
also  marked  itself  in  universal  and  lasting  lines  upon  the 
laws,  the  arts,  the  manners  —  upon  the  entire  aspect  of  our 
ancient  society.  Christendom,  in  its  youth,  has  been 
throughout  vivified,  directed,  and  constituted  by  the  monas- 
tic spirit.  Wherever  we  interrogate  the  monuments  of  the 
past,  not  only  in  France  but  in  all  Europe  —  in  Spain  as  in 
Sweden,  in  Scotland  as  in  Sicily  —  everywhere  rises  before 
us  the  memory  of  the  monk,  —  the  traces,  ill-effaced,  of  his 
labors,  of  his  power,  of  his  benefactions,  from  the  humble 
furrow  which  he  has  been  the  first  to  draw  in  the  bogs  of 
Brittany  or  of  Ireland,  up  to  tlie  extinguished  splendors  of 
Marmoutier  and  Cluny,  of  Melrose  and  the  Escurial. 

And  there  is  also  a  contemporary  interest  by  the  side 
of  this  interest  of  the  past.  Universally  proscribed  and 
dishonored  during  the  eighteenth  century,  in  the  nineteenth 
the  religious  orders  everywhere  reappear.  Our  age  has 
witnessed,  at  the  same  time,  their  burial  and  their  resur. 
rcction.  Here  we  have  succeeded  in  rooting  out  their 
last  remnants,  and  there  they  have  already  renewed  their 
life.  Wherever  the  CatlioHc  religion  is  not  the  object  of 
open  p(3rsecution,  as  in  Sweden  —  wherever   she   has   been 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

able  to  obtain  her  legitimate  portion  of  modern  liberty — they 
reappear  as  of  themselves.  We  have  despoiled  and  pro- 
scribed them  —  we  see  them  everywhere  return,  sometimes 
under  new  names  and  appearances,  but  always  with  their 
ancient  spirit.  They  neither  reclaim  nor  regret  their  antique 
grandeur.  They  limit  themselves  to  living — to  preaching 
by  word  and  by  example  —  without  wealth,  without  pomp, 
without  legal  rights,  but  not  without  force  nor  without 
trials  —  not  without  friends,  nor,  above  all,  without  enemie;'. 
Friends  and  enemies  are  alike  interested  to  know  from 
whence  they  come,  and  whence;  they  have  drawn  the  secret 
of  a  life  so  tenacious  and  so  fruitful.  I  offer  to  the  one  as  to 
the  other  a  tale  which  shall  not  be  a  panegyric  nor  even  an 
apology,  but  the  sincere  testimony  of  a  friend,  of  an  admirer, 
who  desires  to  preserve  the  impartial  equity  which  history 
demands,  and  who  will  conceal  no  stain  that  he  may  have  the 
fuller  right  of  veiling  no  glory. 


CHAPTER   II. 

FUNDAMENTAL   CHARACTER   OF   MONASTIC    INSTITUTIONS. 

Quest'  altri  fuochi  tutti  contemplanti 
Uoniini  furo,  aceesi  di  quel  caldo 
Che  fa  nascer  i  tiori  e  i  frutti  santi. 

Qui  e  Macario.  qui  e  Romoaldo : 
Qui  son  li  I'rati  mioi,  cjie  do-ntro  a'  chiostri 
Fermaro  i  piedi,  e  tennero  '1  cor  saldo. 

St.  Benedict  to  Dante.  —  Paradiso,  xxii. 

Before  entering  npon  this  history,  it  seems  necessary  to 
make  some  observations  on  the  fundamental  character  of 
monastic  self-devotion — upon  that  which  has  been  the  prin- 
ciple at  once  of  the  services  it  has  rendered,  and  the  hate 
which  it  has  inspired. 

Some  years  ago,  who  understood  what  a  monk  really  was  ? 

For  myself,  I  had  no  doubt  on  the  subject  when  I  com- 
menced this  work.  I  believed  that  I  knew  something  which 
approached  to  the  idea  of  a  saint  —  to  that  of  the  Church; 
but  I  had  not  the  least,  notion  of  what  a  monk  might  be,  or  of 
the  monastic  order.  I  was  like  my  time.  In  all  the  course 
of  my  education,  dom.estic  or  public,  no  one,  not  even  among 
those  who  were  specially  charged  to  teach  me  religion  and 
1* 


6  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

history,  no  one  considered  it  necessary  to  give  me  the  least 
conception  of"  the  rehgions  orders.  Thirty  years  had  scarcely 
passed  since  their  ruin;  and  already  they  were  treated  as  a 
lost  species,  of  whom  fossil  bones  reappeared  from  time  to 
time,  exciting  curiosity  or  repugnance,  but  who  had  no 
longer  a  place  in  history  among  the  living.  I  imagine  that 
most  men  of  my  own  age  regarded  them  thus.  Have  not  we 
all  come  forth  from  college  knowing  by  heart  the  list  of  the 
mistresses  of  Jupiter,  but  ignorant  even  of  the  names  of  the 
iounders  of  those  religious  orders  which  have  civilized 
Europe,  and  so  often  saved  the  Church? 

The  first  time  that  1  saw  the  dress  of  a  monk  —  must  J 
confess  it?  —  was  on  the  boards  of  a  theatre,  in  one  of  those 
ignoble  parodies  which  hold,  too  often  among  modern  nations, 
the  place  of  the  pomps  and  solemnities  of  religion.  Some 
years  later  I  encountered,  for  the  first  time,  a  real  monk ;  it 
was  at  the  foot  of  the  Grande  Chartreuse,  at  the  entrance  of 
that  wild  gorge,  on  the  brink  of  that  bounding  torrent,  which 
no  one  can  ever  forget  who  has  once  visited  that  celebrated 
solitude.  I  knew  nothing  then  of  the  services  or  of  the 
glories  which  that  despised  cowl  ought  to  have  recalled  to 
the  least  instructed  Christian;  but  I  remember  still  the  sur- 
prise and  emotion  into  which  that  image  of  a  vanished  world 
threw  my  heart.  To-day,  even,  after  so  many  other  emotions, 
so  many  different  contests,  so  many  labors  which  have  re- 
vealed to  me  the  immortal  grandeur  of  the  part  taken  by  the 
religious  orders  in  the  Church,  this  recollection  survives,  and 
steals  over  me  with  infinite  sweetness.  How  much  I  wish 
that  this  book  may  leave  a  similar  impression  upon  those  who 
encounter  it  on  their  way,  and  inspire  some  not  only  with 
respect  lor  that  vanquished  grandeur,  but  with  the  desire  to 
stud}'  it,  and  the  duty  of  rendering  to  it  justice  ! 

We  ma}',  besides,  without  excess  of  ambition,  claim  for  the 
monk  a  justice  more  complete  than  that  which  he  has  yet 
obtained,  even  from  the  greater  number  of  the  Christian 
apologists  of  recent  times.  In  taking  up  the  defence  of  the 
religious  orders,  these  writers  have  seemed  to  demand  grace 
for  those  august  institutions  in  the  name  of  the  services 
which  they  have  rendered  to  the  sciences,  to  letters,  and  to 
agriculture.  This  is  to  boast  the  incidental  at  the  expense 
of  the  essential.  We  are  doubtless  obliged  to  acknowledge 
and  admire  the  cultivation  of  so  many  forests  and  deserts, 
the  transcription  and  preservation  of  so  many  literary  and 
historical  monuments,  and  that  monastic  erudition  which  we 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

know  nothing  to  replace ;  these  are  great  services  rendered 
to  humanity,  which  ought,  if  humanity  were  just,  to  shelter 
the  monks  under  a  celestial  shield.  But  there  is,  besides, 
something  far  more  worthy  of  admiration  and  gratitude  —  the 
peimanent  strife  of  moral  freedom  against  the  bondage  of  the 
flesh;  the  constant  effort  of  a  consecrated  will  in  the  pursuit 
and  conquest  of  Christian  virtue  ;  the  victorious  flight  of  the 
soul  into  those  supreme  regions  where  she  finds  again  her 
true,  her  immortal  grandeur.  Institutions  simply  human, 
powers  merely  temporal,  might  perhaps  confer  upon  society 
the  same  temporal  benefits :  that  which  human  powers  can- 
not do,  that  which  they  have  never  undertaken,  and  in  which 
they  never  could  succeed,  is  to  discipline  the  soul,  to  trans- 
form it  by  chastity,  by  obedience,  by  sacrifice  and  humility  : 
to  recreate  the  man  wasted  by  sin  into  such  virtue,  that  the 
prodigies  of  evangelical  perfection  have  become,  during  long 
centuries,  the  daily  history  of  the  Church.  It  is  in  this  that 
we  see  the  design  of  the  monks,  and  what  they  have  done. 
Among  so  many  founders  and  legislators  of  the  religious  life, 
not  one  has  dreamt  of  assigning  the  cultivation  of  the  soil, 
the  copying  of  manuscripts,  the  progress  of  arts  and  letters, 
the  preservation  of  historical  monuments,  as  a  special  aim  to 
his  disciples.  These  offices  have  been  only  accessory  —  the 
consequence,  often  indirect  and  involuntary,  of  an  institution 
which  had  in  view  nothing  but  the  education  of  the  human 
souljils  conformity  to  the  law  of  Christ,  and  the  expiation  of 
its  native  guilt  by  a  life  of  sacrifice  and  mortification.  This 
was  for  all  of  them  the  end  and  tne  beginning,  the  supreme 
object  of  existence,  the  unique  ambition,  the  sole  merit,  and 
the  sovereign  victory. 

For  those  Avho  do  not  acknowledge  the  original  fall,  and 
the  double  necessity  of  human  effort  and  divine  grace  to 
elevate  us  above  the  condition  of  fallen  nature,  it  is  clear  that 
the  monastic  life  can  be  nothing  but  a  grand  and  lamentable 
aberration.  For  those  who  neither  know  nor  comprehend 
the  struggles  of  the  soul  which  seeks,  in  the  love  of  God 
elevated  to  heroism,  a  victorious  weapon  and  sovereign 
remedy  against  the  inordinate  love  of  the  creature,  that  mj-s- 
terious  worship  of  chastity,  which  is  the  essential  condition 
of  the  life  of  the  cloister,  "must  always  remain  unintelligible. 
But,  to  such  minds,  the  Christian  revelation  and  the  priest- 
hood instituted  by  Jesus  Christ  are  equally  inadmissible. 
On  the  other  side,  every  man  who  believes  in  the  incarnation 
of  the  Son  of  God  and  the  divinity  of  the  Gospel,  ought  to 


8  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

recognize  in  monastic  life  the  most  noble  effort  which  ha& 
ever  been  made  to  overcome  corrupted  nature  and  to  ap- 
proach to  Christian  perfection.  Every  Christian  who  beheves 
in  the  perpetuity  of  the  Church  ought  to  discern  and  ven- 
erate in  this  institution,  let  its  scandals  and  abuses  be  what 
they  will,  the  imperishable  seed  of  ecclesiastical  self-devotion. 

Thus  is  explained,  on  one  side,  the  immense  importance  oi 
the  services  which  the  regular  clergy  have  rendered  to  re 
ligion,  and,  on  the  other,  the  special  and  constant  animosity 
which  the  enemies  of  the  Church  have  always  displayed 
against  them.  We  have  but  to  open  the  history  of  Catholic 
nations,  to  be  impressed  by  the  presence  of  this  double  spec- 
tacle. Since  the  end  of  the  Roman  persecution,  the  gran- 
deur, the  liberty,  and  the  prosperity  of  the  Church  have 
always  been  exactly  proportioned  to  the  power,  the  regular- 
ity, and  the  sanctity  of  the  religious  orders  which  she  em- 
braces within  her  bosom.'  We  can  aflSrm  it  without  fear. 
Everywhere  and  always  she  has  flourished  most  when  her 
religious  communities  have  been  most  numerous,  most  fer- 
vent, and  most  free. 

To  the  period  immediately  following  the  peace  of  the 
Church,  the  monks  of  the  Thebaide  and  of  Palestine,  of 
Lerins  and  of  Marmoutier,  secured  innumerable  champions  of 
orthodoxy  against  the  tyrannous  Arians  of  the  Lower  Empire. 
In  proportion  as  the  Franks  achieved  the  conquest  of  Gaul, 
and  became  the  preponderating  race  amongst  all  the  Ger- 
manic races,  they  permitted  themselves  to  be  influenced, 
converted,  and  directed  by  the  sons  of  St.  Benedict  and  of 
St.  Columba. 

From  the  seventh  to  the  ninth  century,  it  was  the  Bene- 

'  Tlie  religious  orders  may  generally  be  classed  in  four  great  categories  : 
1st,  The  Monks  properly  so  called,  which  comprehend  the  orders  of  St.  Basil 
and  St.  Benedict,  with  all  their  branches,  Cluny,  the  Camaldules,  the  Char- 
treux,  the  Cistercians,  the  Celestines,  Fontevrault,  Grandinont,  —  all  anterior 
to  tl)e  thirteenth  century;  2d,  The  Regular  Canons,  who  follow  the  rule  of 
Ht.  Augustine,  and  who  have  neither  gained  great  distinction  nor  rendered 
eminent  services,  but  to  whom  are  attached  two  illustrious  orders,  that  of 
Premontre,  and  that  of  La  Merci,  for  the  redemption  of  captives;  3d,  The 
Brothers,  or  religious  mendicants  (Frati),  which  comprehend  the  Domini- 
cans, tlie  Franciscans  (with  all  their  subdivisions,  Conventuals,  Obscrvantins, 
Kecollets,  Capucins),  the  Carmelites,  the  Augustines,  the  Servites,  the  Mini- 
nifs,  and,  generally,  all  tiie  orders  created  from  the  thirteenth  to  the  six- 
tecnlh  centuries;  4th  and  lastly,  The  Regular  Clerks,  a  form  affected  ex- 
clusively by  the  orders  created  since  the  sixteenth  century,  those  of  the 
Jet-uits,  the  Theatins,  the  Barnabites,  &c.  The  Lazarists,  the  Oratorians, 
tlie  Eudistes,  are  only,  like  the  Sulpiciens,  secular  priests  united  in  a  con 
K  egatiou. 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

dictines  who  gave  to  the  Church,  Belgium,  England,  Gev- 
mauy,  and  Scandinavia,  and  who  furnished,  to  the  founders 
of  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  West,  auxiliaries  indispensable  to 
the  establishment  of  a  Christian  civilization. 

In  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries,  the  same  Benedictines, 
ccmcent rated  under  the  strong  direction  of  the  order  of  Chiny, 
contended  victoriously  against  the  dangers  and  abuses  of  ihe 
feudal  system,  and  gave  to  St.  Gregory  VII.  the  army  which 
he  needed  to  save  the  independence  of  the  Church,  to  de- 
stroy the  concubinage  of  the  priests,  simony,  and  the  secular 
occupation  of  ecclesiastical  benefices. 

In  the  twelfth  century,  the  order  of  Citeaux,  crowned  by 
St.  Bernard  with  unrivalled  splendor,  became  the  principal 
instrument  of  the  beneficent  supremacy  of  the  Holy  See, 
served  as  an  asylum  to  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbur}',  and  as  a 
bulwark  to  the  liberty  of  the  Church,  till  the  time  of  Bom 
face  VIII  -^ 

In  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth,  the  new  orders  instituted 
by  St.  Francis,  St.  Dominic,  and  their  emulators,  maintained 
and  propagated  the  faith  among  the  souls  of  men  and  the 
social  institutions  throughout  the  empire  ;  renewed  the  con- 
test against  the  venom  of  heresy,  and  against  the  corruption 
of  morals ;  substituted  for  the  crusades  the  work  of  redeem- 
ing Christian  captives  ;  and  produced,  in  St.  Thomas  Aquinas, 
the  prince  of  Christian  doctors  and  moralists,  whom  faith 
consults  as  the  most  faithful  interpreter  of  Catholic  tradition, 
and  in  whom  reason  recognizes  the  glorious  rival  of  Aris- 
totle and  Descartes. 

In  the  fifteenth  century,  the  Church  underwent  the  great 
schism,  and  all  the  scandals  which  resulted  from  it.  The 
ancient  orders,  also,  had  lost  their  primitive  fervor,  and  no 
new  institution  came  to  renew  the  vigor  of  the  Christian 
bh)od. 

And  we  know  what  was,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  in- 
vincible progress  of  Reform,  until  the  day  when  the  Jesuits, 
solemnly  approved  by  the  last  General  Council,  came  fi^rward 
to  intercept  the  torrent,  and  preserve  to  the  Church  at  lca<t 
the  half  of  her  inheritance. 

In  the  seventeenth  century,  the  splendors  of  Catholic  elo- 
quence and  science  are  contemporary  Avith  the  great  reforms 
of  St.  Maur  and  of  La  Trappe,  with  the  foundations  of  St. 

-  It  is  told  that  this  Pope  gave  to  the  Abbot  of  Citeaux  tlie  privilege  re- 
served to  the  popes,  of  having  a  seal  wliere  that  prelate  was  represented  sit- 
ting —  saying  to  hinij  Qiioniam  tu  wecum  solus  Ktetisti,  solus  mecum  sedehis 


10  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

Francis  i^e  Sales  and  St.  Vincent  de  Paul,  and  with  the  marvel- 
lous blossoming  of  Christian  charity  in  all  these  congregations 
of  women,  mo.st  part  of  which  survive  ior  our  happiness. 

Finally,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  the  religious  orders, 
absorbed  definitively  by  the  Commende,  infected  by  the  cor- 
ruptions which  were  engendered  by  the  encroachments  of 
(lie  temporal  power,  or  decimated  b}'  persecntion,  succumbed 
almost  entirely,  but  at  the  same  time  the  Church  sustained 
the  most  humiliating  trials,  and  the  world  has  never  been 
able  to  believe  her  nearer  to  her  fall. 

Where  can  we  find  in  history  a  lesson  more  conclusive 
and  incontestable  than  this  perpetual  coincidence  ?  And  can 
wo  not  draw  the  same  inference  from  the  war,  more  or  less 
flagrant,  which  all  the  centuries  have  waged  against  the 
Church?  Is  it  not  the  monks  whom  the  enemies  and  oppres- 
sors '^  the  Church  have  always  most  detested  and  most 
pursued?  Without  denying  their  too  real  errors,  or  the  fatal 
pretexts  furnished  by  abuses  too  long  unpunished,  ought  we 
not  to  confess  that  wherever  it  has  been  resolved  to  strike 
at  the  heart  of  religion,  it  has  always  been  the  religious 
oi'ders  who  have  received  the  first  blows?  The  attempts 
against  the  authority  of  the  Roman  See,  against  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  episcopate,  against  the  constitution  and 
property  of  the  secular  clergy,  have  they  not  been  always 
and  ever}  where  preceded  by  the  suppression  and  spoliation 
of  the  regular  communities?  Have  not  Henrj^  VIII.  and 
the  first  Reformers  been  servilely  imitated  in  these  tactics 
by  Joseph  II.  and  the  French  Revolution  ?  And  if  we  had 
leisure  or  courage  to  throw  here  a  rapid  glance  over  the 
history  of  the  nineteenth  century,  should  we  not  see  the  ad- 
veisaries  of  Catholicism  everywhere  adjured  to  extirpate 
the  last  remnants  of  monastic  institutions,  and  to  smother 
the  germs  of  that  reviving  life  of  the  cloister  which  is 
always  to  be  found  accompanying  the  revival  of  the  faith 
and  usages  of  Christianity  itself? 

God  forbid  that  we  should  desire  to  deduce  from  these 
marvellous  coincidences  an  absolute  identity  between  the 
Church  and  the  religious  orders !  We  would  not  confound 
institutions  holy  and  salutary,  but  subject  to  all  human  in- 
firmities, with  the  sole  institution  founded  by  God  and  for 
eternity.  We  do  not  deny  that  the  Church  may  subsist  and 
triumph  without  them.  But  up  to  the  present  time  it  has 
pleased  God  to  establish  a  glorious  conjunction  between  the 
prosperity  of  the  Church  and   that  of  the  religious  orders  — 


INTRODUCTION.  ll 

between  their  liberty  and  liers.  During  ten  centuries  these 
orders  have  been  the  surest  bulwark  of  the  Church,  and  have 
supplied  her  most  illustrious  pontiffs.  During  ten  centuries 
the  secular  clergy,  naturally  too  much  exposed  to  the  influ- 
ences of  the  world,  have  almost  always  been  surpassed  in  de- 
votion, in  sanctity,  and  in  courage,  by  the  regulars,  withdrawn 
within  their  monasteries  as  within  citadels,  where  they  have 
regained  peace  and  strength  in  re-baptizing  themselves  in 
austerity,  discipline,  and  silence.  During  ten  centuries  tho 
Religious  have  been,  as  they  still  are  in  our  own  day,  the 
mjst  intrepid  missionaries,  the  most  indefatigable  propaga- 
tors of  the  Gospel.  And,  in  brief,  during  ten  centuries,  the 
religious  orders  have  endowed  the  Church  at  the  same  time 
with  an  army  active  and  permanent  and  with  a  trustworthy 
reserve.  Like  the  different  forces  of  the  same  army,  they 
have  displayed,  even  in  the  diversity  of  their  rules  and  ten- 
dencies, that  variety  in  unity  which  constitutes  the  fruitful 
loveliness  and  sovereign  majesty  of  Catholicism;  and,  be- 
yond this,  have  practised,  as  far  as  consists  with  human 
weakness,  those  evangelical  precepts,  the  accomplishment 
of  which  conducts  to  Christian  perfection.  Occupied,  above 
all,  in  opening  to  themselves  the  Vv'ay  to  heaven,  they  have 
given  to  the  world  the  grandest  and  most  noble  of  lessons, 
in  demonstrating  how  high  a  man  can  attain  upon  the  wings 
of  love  purified  by  sacrifice,  and  of  enthusiasm  regulated  by 
faith. 


CHAPTER   III. 

OF  THE  TRUE  NATURE  OF  THE  MONASTIC  VOCATION. 

Confortare,  et  esto  vir, 

3  Eeg.  ii.  2. 

.    .    .    Se  '1  mondo  sapesse  '1  cuor  ch'  egli  ebbe.    .    . 
Assai  lo  loda,  c  piii  lo  lodorcbbe. 

Dante,  I'arad.,  c.  6. 

But  scarcely  has  our  first  glance  discerned  the  prodigious 
influence  exercised  by  the  religious  orders  upon  Christian 
society,  when  we  are  led  to  inquire  from  whence  has  come 
that  great  body  of  men,  who  during  so  many  ages  have  peo- 
pled the  monasteries  and  recruited  the  permanent  army  of 
prayer  and  charity  ? 


J  2  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

In  tbe  depths  of  human  nature  there  exists  without  douht 
J,  tendency,  instinctive,  though  confused  ani,l  evanescent, 
towards  retirement  and  soh'tude.  Its  manifestations  arc 
found  in  all  the  epochs  of  iiistory,  in  all  relii^ions,  in  all  soci- 
eties, except,  perhaps,  among  savage  tribes,  or  in  the  bosom 
of  that  corrupt  civilization  which,  by  its  excess  and  over- 
refinement,  too  often  leads  humanity  back  to  a  savage  condi- 
tion. What  man,  unless  completely  depraved  by  vice,  or 
weighed  down  by  age  and  cupidit}-,  has  not  experienced, 
once  at  least,  before  his  death,  the  attraction  of  solitude  ?  Who 
lias  not  felt  the  ardent  desire  for  a  repose  lasting  and  regu- 
lai',  in  which  wisdom  and  virtue  might  furnish  a  perpetual 
aliment  to  the  life  of  the  heart  and  spirit,  to  science  and  to 
lo\'e  V  Where  is  the  Christian  soul,  however  enchained  it 
may  be  by  the  bonds  of  sin,  however  soiled  it  may  have  L)een 
by  contact  with  terrestrial  baseness,  who  has  not  sometimes 
sighed  after  the  charm  and  repose  of  the  religious  life,  and 
inhaled  from  afar  the  perfume  whicli  is  exhaled  from  some 
one  of  those  sweet  and  secret  as\'lums  '  inhabited  by  virtue 
and  devotion,  and  consecrated  to  meditations  on  eternity? 
Who  has  not  dreamt  of  a  future,  in  which,  for  one  day  at 
least,  he  might  say  of  himself  with  the  prophet,  "  Sedebit 
solitarius  et  iacehit?^^  Who  has  not  comprehended  that  it  is 
necessary  to  reserve  at  least  some  corners  of  the  world,  be- 
yond reach  of  the  revolutions,  the  agitations,  and  the  covet- 
ings  of  ordinar}'  life,  that  there  the  harmonies  of  human 
adoration  and  gratitude  may  be  added  to  all  the  voices  of 
nature,  to  those  choirs  of  creation  which  bless  and  adore  the 
Creator  of  all  ? 

But  in  order  that  this  inclination  towards  solitude  should 
not  degenerate  into  infirmity  of  spirit,  and  weak  desertion 
of  the  duties  and  trials  of  life.  Religion,  with  all  that  is  purest 
and  strongest  in  her,  must  come  to  justify  and  to  reguhite  it. 
'*  1  approve,"  said  an  illustrious  French  bishop  in  the  twelfth 
century, —  "  I  approve  the  life  of  those  men  for  whom  a  city 
is  but  a  prison,  who  find  their  paradise  in  solitude,  who  live 
there  by  the  labor  of  their  hands,  or,  who  seek  to  renew  their 
souls  by  the  sweetness  of  a  life  of  contemplation — men  who 
drink,  with  the  lips  of  their  hearts,  at  the  fountain  of  life, 
and  forget  all  that  is  behind  them  in  gazing  at  that  which  is 
before  ;  but  neither  the  profoundest  forests  nor  the  highest 
mountains  can  give  happiness  to  a  man,  if  he  has  not  in  him- 

'  "  Habent  montes  castelli  secreta  suavia,  ut  velut  anachoretae,  praBStantu 
Doiuino,  feliciter  esse  possitis."  —  Cassiodok.,  Divin.  Litter.,  c.  29. 


INTKODUCTION.  13 

self  the  solitude  of  the  soul,  the  peace  of  conscience,  the 
elevation  of  heart,  ascensiones  in  corde;  otherwise  there  is 
no  solitude  which  does  not  produce  idleness,  curiosity,  and 
vainglory,  with  storms  of  the  most  perilous  temptations."'^ 

Thus,  for  the  monks,  a  life  of  solitude  was  neither  a  weak- 
ness nor  a  caprice ;  it  was  an  institution  in  which  they  found, 
as  was  demonstrated  even  by  the  language  which  they 
spoke,  order  and  rule. 

It  was  not,  then,  save  in  the  exceptions  inseparable  from 
all  genei'al  phenomena,  an  unreflecting  instinct,  an  emotion 
evanescent  or  superficial,  which  enrolled  so  many  Christians, 
in  the  bloom  of  youth,  under  the  severe  discipline  of  the 
cloister.  On  the  contrary,  when  we  search  in  the  monu- 
ments of  history  for  the  natural  interpretation  and  human 
origin  of  monastic  vocations,  we  perceive  that  they  were 
born,  above  all,  of  a  conviction,  often  precocious,  but  always 
profound  and  reasonable,  of  the  vanity  of  human  things,  and 
of  the  constant  defeat  of  virtue  and  truth  upon  earth. 

The  triumph  of  evil  here  below,  under  its  most  repugnant 
fo]-m  —  that  of  falsehood  and  deceit  —  is  specially  impressed 
upon  us  by.  the  history  of  the  human  race,  as  well  as  by  the 
history  of  the  most  obscure  individual  life.  We  all  receive 
that  cruel  and  bitter  lesson.  We  have  all  before  us  that  poig- 
nant experience.  But  it  comes  to  us  tardily,  and,  if  I  dare 
to  say  so,  from  below.  It  proceeds  out  of  the  disappoint- 
ments and  fatigues  of  a  life  in  which  evil  too  often  disputes 
the  feeble  desires  of  good.  It  comes  at  an  age  when,  already 
enervated  by  our  faults,  depressed  by  our  disappointments, 
and  stained  by  our  falls,  we  are  no  longer  capable  of  chan- 
ging our  life,  of  coming  to  a  generous  resolution,  and  of 
throwing  oif  the  yoke. 

But  on  the  contrary,  for  those  monks  of  old  who  filled  the 
Christian  world  with  their  works  and  their  name,  that  con- 
viction came  from  above,  solely  by  the  revelations  of  faith, 
and  by  the  contemplation  of  God's  eternal  justice.  It  seized 
upon  them  in  the  dawn  of  their  existence,  at  that  decisive 
moment  when  the  freedom  of  soul  which  age  fetters  and 
annuls  existed  in  all   its  fulness  —  at   that   moment   when 

*  "  Anachoretarum  vitani  non  improbo,  .  .  .  quibus  est  solitudo  paradisus 
et  civitas  career.  .  .  .  Non  beatum  faciunt  hominem  secreta  sylvarum, 
cacuniina  montium,  si  secuiu  non  habet  solitudinem  mentis,  sabbatum  cordis, 
tranquillitatem  conscientiae,  ascensiones  in  corde,  sine  quibus  oinnem  solitudi- 
nem coniitantur  mentis  acedia,  curiositas,  vana  gloria,  periculosse  tentationum 
procellas." —  Yves  de  Chartres,  ep.  192.  See  also  his  fine  Epist.  256  upoJJ 
t!ie  advantages  of  the  cenobiiical  life  compared  with  that  of  t'le  anchorites. 
VOL.  I.  2 


14  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

every  noble  soul  aspires  to  all  that  is  great,  bcautifal.  and 
strong,  and  feels  itself  capable  of  all  efforts,  all  courage,  all 
devotion,  all  generous  impulses.  From  tbe  bosom  of  that 
fugitive  youth,  and  with  that  vigor,  that  moral  elasticity, 
which  so  often  vanishes  before  we  are  even  entirely  con- 
scious of  its  possession,  they  took  their  flight  towards  a 
region  where  virtue  and  truth  are  inaccessible  to  humili- 
ation. 

Resolute  to  escape,  as  much  as  was  in  nature,  from  the 
empire  of  falsehood  and  wickedness,  from  the  instability  of 
human  things  and  the  lamentable  weakness  of  old  age,  these 
young  athletes  sought  to  put  tlieir  life  in  harmony  with  their 
convictions;  and  by  the  warm  and  pure  inspiration  of  their 
free  will,  they  consecrated  to  the  service  of  their  neighbor, 
to  the  love  of  God,  to  the  profit  of  the  soul,  a  virgin  energy 
of  which  nothing  had  yet  tarnished  the  purity  or  enfeebled 
the  force. 

One  of  the  most  singular  of  the  errors  which  many  apolo- 
gists of  the  monastic  life  have  fallen  into,  has  been  to  regard 
it  as  a  refuge  for  sorrowful  souls,  fatigued  and  discontented 
with  their  lot  in  the  world,  unable  to  hold  the  place  from 
which  society  has  banished  them,  consumed  by  disappoint- 
ment, or  broken  by  melancholy.  ''If  there  are  refuges  for 
the  health  of  the  body,"  says  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  *'  ah  ! 
permit  religion  to  have  such  also  for  the  health  of  the  soul, 
which  is  still  more  subject  to  sickness,  and  the  infirmities  of 
which  are  so  much  more  sad,  so  much  more  tedious  and 
difficult  to  cure  ! "  The  idea  is  poetical  and  touching,  but 
it  is  not  true.  Monasteries  were  never  intended  to  collect 
the  invalids  of  the  world.  It  was  not  the  sick  souls,  but  on 
the  contrary,  the  most  vigorous  and  healthful  which  the 
human  lace  has  ever  produced,  who  presented  themselves 
in  crowds  to  fill  them.  The  religious  life,  far  from  being 
the  refuge  of  the  feeble,  was,  on  the  contrary,  the  arena  of 
the  strong. 

Sometimes,  it  is  true,  by  one  of  those  marvellous  contrasts 
which  abound  in  the  works  inspired  by  religion,  that  career 
full  of  supernatural  combats  and  triumphs,  that  life  in  which 
virtue  and  Christian  strength  attain  their  apotheosis,  was 
precisely  that  in  which  some  souls  naturally  infirm,  and  hearts 
wounded  in  the  combats  of  worldly  life,  found  for  them- 
selves a  refuge.  And  as  modern  civilization,  by  the  side  of 
its  incontestable  benefits,  has  too  often  the  drawback  of  aug- 
menting the  number  and  the  intensity  of  the  maladies  of  tlie 


INTRODJCTION.  16 

Houl,  it  cannot  be  without  intortist,  from  a  point  ol  view 
purely  social,  to  preserve  for  such  a  shelter,  and  to  secure 
ibr  them  due  treatment.  It  is  very  possible  tliat,  even  on 
this  account,  the  ruin  of  the  religious  orders  has  been  a 
public  calamity,  and  has  not  been  without  some  influence 
upon  that  I'rightlul  increase  in  the  number  of  suicides  whicli 
is  certified  each  year  by  the  criminal  statistics.^ 

But,  to  tell  the  trutli,  it  is  only  in  romance  that  we  find 
disappointments,  grief,  and  melancholy  conducting  to  the 
(;loisLer.  1  have  Ibund  no  serit)us  or  important  trace  of  it  in 
history,  not  even  in  the  traditions  of  the  degenerated  com- 
munities of  modern  times,  and  much  less  in  the  heroic  ages 
oi"  their  chronicles.  Without  doul)t,  some  have  been  thrown 
into  the  cloister  by  great  unhappiness,  by  irretrievable  mis- 
fortune, by  the  loss  ot"  some  one  passionately  loved :  and  I 
could  cite  some  curious  and  touching  examples  of  such.  But 
they  are  exceedingly  rare.  To  present  us  with  a  general 
theory  of  the  religious  life  as  an  asylum  for  feebleness  and 
sadness,  as  a  place  of  refuge  for  that  melancholy  which  was 
distinctly  proscril)ed  and  expelled  from  the  life  of  the  cloister 
as  a  vice,  under  the  name  ot'  acedia,  is  to  go  in  the  face  both 
of  facts  and  reason. 

The  distinctive  characteristic  which  shines  from  all  the 
series  of  great  monastic  creations  and  existences,  and  which 
I  desire  to  exhibit  before  my  readers,  is  strength  :  not  that 
strength  which  man  has  in  common  with  animals  ;  not  that 
.material  strength  which  demoralizes  the  world  with  its  com- 
:emptible  triumphs ;  not  that  external  strength,  the  danger- 
ous help  of  which  is  invoked  too  often  by  blind  and  cowardly 
Christians;  not  that  strength  which  consists  in  imposing  on 
others  one's  own  convictions  or  interests  :  but  that  which 
signifies  the  discipline  of  self,  the  power  of  ruling,  of  re- 
straining, of  subduing  rebellious  nature — that  strength 
which  is  a  cardinal  virtue,  and  which  overcomes  the  world 
)y  courage  and  sacrifice.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  affirm  that 
he  monks,  the  true  monks  o^  the  great  ages  of  the  Church, 

'  "The  number  of  suicides  ba?  not  ceased  to  increase  each  year  since  the 
criminal  statistics  included  '■'leni."  —  Report  of  M.  Odillon  Barrot,  Keeper 
if  the  Seals,  to  the  President  of  the  Republic,  29tb  September,  1849.  Tliis 
number  was  in  18zt),  i739;  in  1846,  3102;  in  1852.  3074.  It  increased  in 
1856  to  4189.  In  the  space  of  27  years,  from  1S26  to  1853,  71,418  persons 
have  in  France  voluntarily  met  their  death.  In  England,  despite  the  pre- 
judice to  the  contrary,  the  number  is  not  so  great  —  from  1852  to  185G  it  is 
ascertained  that  in  the  United  Kingdom,  amongst  24  millions  of  inhabitantSi 
there  were  but  5415  suicides,  which  makes  only  1100  per  annum. 


iC  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

are  the  representatives  of  manhood  under  its  most  pure  and 
most  energetic  form — of  manhood  intellectual  and  moral  — 
of  manhood,  in  some  manner  condensed  bj  celibacj^  protest- 
ing against  all  vulgarity*  and  baseness,  condemning  itself  to 
efforts  more  great,  sustained,  and  profound  than  are  exacted 
by  any  worldly  career,  and  by  this  means  making  of  earth 
only  a  stopping-stone  to  heaven,  and  of  life  but  a  long  series 
of  victories. 

Yes  !  thanks  to  the  robust  constitution  which  they  have 
rei^eived  from  their  founders  —  thanks  to  that  incomparable 
discipline  of  soul  which  all  the  monastic  legislators  have 
succeeded  in  establishing  —  tlie  monk  draws  from  his  soli- 
tude the  treasure  of  a  strength  which  the  world  has  never 
surpassed,  nor,  indeed,  equalled.  '•  Solitude,"  says  a  vener- 
able ecclesiastic  of  our  day,  "solitude  is  the  mother-country 
of  the  strong — silence  is  their  prayer.'*'  The  entire  mo- 
nastic history  is  but  a  demonstration  of  this  truth.  And  how 
could  it  have  been  otherwise  ?  What  was  this  life,  if  not  a 
permanent  protest  against  human  weakness  —  a  reaction 
renewed  every  day  against  all  that  degrades  and  enervates 
man — a  perpetual  aspiration  towards  all  that  soars  above 
this  terrestrial  life  and  fallen  nature  ?  In  all  monasteries, 
faithful  to  their  primitive  constitution,  that  scorn  of  life 
which  is  the  secret  of  heroism,  was  taught  and  practised  at 
every  moment  of  the  day.  The  soul,  elevated  to  God  even 
by  the  least  important  practices  of  its  daily  rule,  offered  to 
Him  without  ceasing  that  triumph  which  the  purest  forces 
and  most  generous  instincts  of  human  nature  gained  over  the 
senses  and  the  passions. 

It  results  from  this,  that  the  monastic  life  has  always  been 
compared  to  a  warfare.  "  Come  and  see,"  said  St  John 
Chrysostom,  "  come  and  see  the  tents  of  the  soldiers  of 
Christ,  come  and  see  their  order  of  battle  ;  they  fight  every 
day,  and  every  day  they  defeat  and  immolate  the  passions 
which  assail  us.'"  Milites  Christi  they  had  been  previously 
designated  by  St.  Augustine '  and   Cassiodorus.'     The  term 

*  "  It  is  certain  that  in  losing  the  institutions  of  monastic  life,  the  human 
mind  lias  lost  a  great  scnool  of  originality.  Now,  all  that  contributes  to 
maintain  in  humanity  a  tradition  of  moral  nobleness  is  worthy  of  respect,  and, 
in  one  sense,  of  regret,  even  when  that  result  has  been  obtained  through 
many  abuses  and  prejudices."  —  Ernest  Renan,  Journal  des  Debats  of  the 
I6th  January  1855. 

*  Le  p.  de  Ravignam,  De  VInstitut  des  Jesidtes,  p.  31. 

S.  Joan.  Chrysost.,  Homil.  in  Matth.,  69-70,  p.  771-779,  ed.  Gaume. 
'  Ed.  Gaume,  t.  ii.  1237,  and  viii.  336.  »  De  Divin.  histit.,  c.  30. 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

of  miles,  which  had  been  originally  borne  by  armecl  citizens  of 
the  Roman  republic,  signified,  at  a  later  period,  nothing  more 
than  mercenaries  of  the  imperial  armies  ;  but  when,  later, 
and  in  proportion  as  the  noble  and  free  institutions  of  the 
Germanic  races  developed  themselves,  the  word  miles  once 
more  changed  its  acceptation  and  served  to  distinguish  the 
chevalier  of  feudal  times,  that  new  analogy  was  adopted  by 
the  unanimous  voice  of  the  new  nations.  Charlemagne 
entitled  the  abbots  of  his  empire  Chevaliers  de  VUjlise,^  and 
all  the  biographers,  all  the  historians,  all  the  writers  who 
have  issued  from  the  cloister,  continue  to  recognize  in  the 
monastic  order  the  Chevalerie  de  Dieu.  That  comparison 
between  the  two  knighthoods,  lay  and  monastic,  is,  we  can 
affirm,  the  everyday  language  of  the  history  of  the  religious 
orders,  and  of  the  biography  of  those  saints  who  have 
founded  and  illustrated  them.  St.  Anselm  and  St.  Bernard 
employ  it  in  almost  every  page  of  their  writings.  A  century 
late^.  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  understood  his  mission  in  no  other 
fashion.  He  said,  in  speaking  of  his  chosen  disciples,  "  These 
are  my  paladins  of  the  Round  Table."  In  the  dreams  of  his 
youth,  this  son  of  a  wool-merchant  had  seen  the  shop  of  his 
father  full  of  bucklers,  of  lances,  of  military  harness  —  a 
prophetic  vision  of  the  war  which  he  should  wage  with  the 
enemy  of  the  human  race  :  and  in  the  decline  of  his  life,  the 
stigmata  of  the  Passion,  the  marks  of  which  he  received, 
seemed  to  the  eyes  of  his  contemporaries  the  badge  and 
emblazonry  of  Christ,  whose  invincible  and  valiant  knight  he 
was.^" 

And  as  the  sacrifice  of  self  is  the  principle  of  military 
courage,  and  the  cause  of  that  prestige  which  attaches  itself 
to  military  glory  above  all  other  human  renown,  so,  in  the 
spiritual  order,  the  daily  sacrifice  of  self  by  monastic  obe- 
dience explains  and  justifies  the  supreme  regard  which  the 
Church  has  always  accorded  to  the  Monk.     Thus  also  is  ex- 

*  "  Optamus  cnim  vos,  sicut  decet  Ucclesics  milites,  et  interius  devotos  et 
estenus  doctos  esse." 

'"  "  Nocte  quadam  .  .  .  videbatur  ei  domum  suam  totam  habere  plenam 
.  .  .  sellis,  clypeis,  lanceis,  et  ceteris  apparatibus.  .  .  .  Non  consueverat 
talia  in  domo  sua  videre,  sed  potius  pannorum  cumulos  ad  vendendum.  .  .  . 
Responsum  est  ei  omnia  haec  arma  sua  fore  niilituraque  suorum.  .  .  .  Op- 
portune multum  arma  traduntur  contra  Fortem  armatum  militi  pugnaturo."  — 
Thomas  de  Celano,  Vita  prima,  ap.  Boll.vnd,  t.  11th  Oct.,  p.  685.  "Eia 
nunc,  strenuissime  miles,  ipsius  fer  arma  invictissimi  ducis.  .  .  .  Fer  vexil- 
lum.  .  .  .  Fer  sigillum.  .  .  .  Dux  in  militia  Christi  futurus,  armis  deberes 
coelestibus  signoque  crucis  insignibus  decorari."  —  S.  Bonavent.,  Vii.  altera, 
ibid,,  p.  779. 

2* 


18  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

plaiiK^d  tlie  necessity  of  minute  and  continual  subjection  in 
ail  monastic  government,  just  as  we  meet  in  every  army  with 
lules  of  discipline  sometimes  puerile  and  vexatious  in  , ap- 
pearance, but  the  least  infraction  of  which,  in  time  of  war,  is 
punished  with  death. 

The  chivalrous  courage  which  they  displayed  every  day 
against  sin  and  their  own  weakness,  still  animated  them 
when  they  encountered  princes  and  potentates  who  abused 
their  authority.  It  is  in  this  above  all  that  we  discover  that 
moral  eneigy  which  gives  to  man  both  the  will  and  the  might 
to  resist  injustice  and  to  protest  against  the  abuses  of  power, 
even  when  these  abuses  and  iniquities  do  not  fall  directly 
upon  himself  That  energy,  without  which  all  the  guaran- 
tees of  order,  of  security,  and  of  independence  invented  in 
politics  are  illusor}',  was  inherent  in  the  character  and  pro- 
fession of  the  monks.  From  the  earliest  times  of  their  history, 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  abject  baseness  of  the  Byzantine 
Court,  they  were  remarked  as  the  men  who  of  all  others 
spoke  with  the  greatest  freedom  to  kings."  From  century 
to  century,  and  so  long  as  they  remained  free  from  the  cor- 
ruptions of  temporal  power,  they  pursued  this  glorious  privi- 
lege. We  shall  see  it  on  every  page  of  this  narrative  ;  we 
shall  see  the  monks  armed  with  an  intrepid  freedom,  a  cour- 
age indomitable  against  oppression  ;  and  we  shall  comprehend 
what  succor  the  innocent  and  unfortunate  could  deiive  from 
them,  in  those  times  when  no  one  thought  himself  defence- 
less so  long  as  he  could  invoke  against  his  oppressor  the 
curse  of  God  and  of  the  cowled  heads.'*  At  the  distance  of 
a  thousand  3'ears  we  find  the  same  calm  and  indomitable 
courage  in  the  reprimand  which  St.  Benedict  addressed  to 
King  Totila,'''  and  in  the  answer  of  the  obscure  prior  of 
Solesmes  to  the  Lord  of  Sable,  against  whom  he  found  it 
necessary  to  maintain  the  privileges  of  his  priory.  This 
nobleman,  having  met  him  one  day  upon  the  bridge  of  the 
town,  said  to  him,  "  Monk,  if  I  did  not  fear  God,  I  would 
throw  thee  into  the  Sarthe  !  "  *'  iSIonseigneur,"  answered 
the  monk,  "  if  you  fear  God,  I  have  nothing  to  fear.','** 

"  ■'  Hoc  enim  niaxime  genus  hominum  summa  cum  libertate  regibus  col- 
locuii  sunt."  Thus  Montfaucon  translates  the  passage  from  St.  John  Chi'ys- 
ostoni,  Adv.  Oppugn.  Vit.  Mon.,  p.  85,  ed.  Gaunie. 

'^  Cucullati.     Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle,  ed.  Gibson. 

'•'  S.  Gkkgori:  Maoni,    Vit.  S.  Pair.  Bened.,  c.  15. 

'^  MS.  de  la  iiiLl.  lloyalt.  cited  in  tlie  Ecuai  Hist,  svr  V Ahhaye  de  Soles- 
mes,  184(5,  p.  4(i.  The  prior  was  named  Jean  Bougler;  he  was  elected  in 
1515,  and  decorated  his  church  with  the  remarkable  sculptures  which  are 
itill  admired  ihure. 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

It  was  thTi>  under  the  dictation  of  the  monks  tliat  those 
civil  and  political  guarantees  were  written,  which  the  Chris- 
tian rebels  against  the  abuses  of  power  wrested  from  their 
unjust  masters.  It  was  to  the  care  of  the  monks  that  they 
confided  these  charters  of  liberty,  in  which  the  conditions  of 
their  obedience  were  inscribed.'''  It  was  in  tlie  cloister  of 
the  monks  that  they  sought  a  sepulchre  not  only  for  the 
kings,  the  great  men,  and  the  conquerors,  but  also  for  the 
feeble  and  the  vanquished.  There  the  victims  of  tyranny,  of 
injustice,  of  all  the. excesses  of  human  power,  found  a  last 
asylum.'"  There  slept  in  peace,  in  the  midst  of  perpetual 
prayer,  the  exile,  the  outlawed,  the  doomed."  These  admi- 
rable verses  of  Statins  upon  the  temple  of  Clemency,  at 
Athens,  which  the  monks  have  preserved  to  us,  found  their 
realization  in  the  bosom  of  monastic  life  — 

"  Sic  tutum  sacrasse  loco  mortalibus  regi'is 
Confugium,  unde  procul  starent  ira3que  minajque 
Rcgnnque.  et  a  justis  Fortuna  recederet  aris.   .  .  . 
Hue  victi  bcllis,  patriaque  e  sede  f'ugati,  .  ,  . 
Conveniunt,  pacemque  rogant."  '* 

No  men  have  ever  showed  less  terror  of  the  strongest,  less 
weak  complaisance  towards  power,  than  the  monks.  Amidst 
the  peace  and  obedience  of  the  cloister  they  tempered  their 
hearts  every  day,  as  indomitable  champions  of  right  and 
truth,  for  the  war  against  injustice.  Noble  spirits,  hearts 
truly  independent,  were  to  be  found  nowhere  more  frequently 
than  under  the  cowl.  Souls  calm  and  brave,  upright  and 
lofty,  as  well  as  humble  and  fervent,  were  there  and  abounded 
—  souls  such  as  Pascal  calls  'perfectly  heroic. 

"  Freedom,"  says  a  holy  monk  of  the  eighth  centur}^  "  is 
not  given  up  because  humility  freely  bows  its  head."  '"  And 
at  the  height  of  the  middle  ages  another  monk,  Pierre  de 
Blois,  wrote  those  proud  words,  which  express  at  once  the 
political  code  of  that  epoch  and  the  history  of  the  monastic 

''  In  testimony  of  this,  to  quote  one  example  among  a  thousand,  the  Char- 
ter de  libertatibus  comitatus  Devonice  was  preserved  at  Tavistock  Abbey, 
DlGBY,  X.   167. 

1®  See  in  the  Formvles  Inedites  de  la  Bibl.  de  Saint  Gall,  published  by  M. 
de  Roziere,  how  tlie  abbots  interceded  with  the  nobles  to  obtain  forgiveness 
for  the  serfs  who  had  incurred  the  anger  of  their  masters. 

'^  See  in  Ingulph  of  Croyland,  the  fine  iiistory  of  Earl  Waltheof,  victim 
of  the  Normans,  of  whom  we  shall  speak  further  on.   i 

"*   Theb.  xii.  v.  481. 

*'  "  Nee  ideo  libertas  succubuit,  quia  huniilitas  semetipsam  libere  prostra- 
Tit."  —  Ambkosius  Autpehtus,  Abb.  S.  Vincentii,  ad  Vulturn.,  ann.  7G8. 


20  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

order :  — ''  There  are  two  things  for  which  all  the  faithful 
ou.cclit  to  resist  to  blood  — justice  and  liberty." """ 

it  is  sufficient  to  say,  that  we  find  them  little  infected  with 
that  political  servility  which  has  so  often  and  so  lamentably 
disfigured  the  annals  of  the  clergy,  which  began  Avith  Con- 
stantine,  and  which,  sometimes  forgotten  or  thrown  off  in 
those  great  emergencies,  when  human  liberty  and  dignity 
have  triumphantly  displayed  themselves,  continually  re-ap- 
pears, like  an  incurable  leprosy,  in  those  other  periods,  far 
more  prolonged  and  frequent,  of  debasement  and  servitude. 
'I'he  saints  themselves  have  not  always  been  able  to  escape 
tlie  contagion  of  that  fatal  delusion,  which  has  induced  too 
many  pontiffs  and  doctors  to  seek  the  ideal  of  Christian  so- 
ciety in  a  resurrection  of  the  Roman  empire  transformed  into 
a  Catholic  monarchy.  The  monks,  more  than  any  other  por- 
tion of  the  Christian  community,  more  than  any  other  ecclesi- 
astical corporation,  have  kept  themselves  free  of  it.  Seldom, 
very  seldom,  do  we  find  among  them  the  instruments  or 
apostles  of  absolute  power.  When  that  anomaly  presents  it- 
self, it  disgusts  us  more  here  than  elsewhere.  I  have  noted 
some  traces  of  that  baseness,  the  contrast  of  which  brings  out 
all  the  clearer  the  masculine  and  noble  independence  which, 
in  social  and  political  matters,  has  always  distinguished  the 
monks  of  the  ages  of  faith. 

Mixing  in  the  world,  more  perhaps  than  was  expedient, 
and  drawn,  even  by  the  trust  and  affection  which  they  in- 
spired, into  the  midst  of  interests  and  of  conflicts  to  which 
they  were  strangers,  tliey  did  not  always  issue  out  of  these 
uninjured  ;  but,  on  the  other  lumd,  they  carried  with  them 
qualities  of  which  the  world  stand  always  in  great  need,  and 
for  which  it  ought  to  have  been  more  grateful.  They  did 
not  believe  that  piety,  orthodox}',  or  even  sanctity  itself, 
could  dispense  with  integrity  and  honor.  When  such  a  ca- 
lamity befell, —  wlien  prelates  or  monks  showed  themselves 
indift'erent  or  unfaithful  to  the  duties  of  public  life,  to  the 
obligations  of  uprightness,  to  the  laws  of  humanity,  of  grati- 
tude, or  of  friendship,  their  indignation  was  roused,  and  they 
did  not  fail  to  mark  and  stigmatize  the  culprits  in  their  an- 
nals. We  see  that  they  invariably  place  the  natural  virtues, 
tlie  services  rendered  to  a  countr}'  or  to  human  society,  side 
by  side  with  those  marvels  of  penitence  and  of  the  love  of  God 
which  they  have  registered  so  carefully ;  and  we  love  to  fol- 

^^  •'  Duo  sunt,  justitia  et  libertas,  pro  quibus  quisque  fidelis  usque  ad 
sanguinem  stare  debeat." — Petr.  Blesens.,  De  Inst.  Episcop. 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

low  tbroiigh  alJ  ages  the  long-  succession  of  monks,  us  active 
as  they  were  pious,  as  courageous  as  iervent,  to  whom  we 
may  justly  apply  that  brief  and  noble  eulogium  pronounced 
by  the  Saxon  Chronicle  upon  an  abbot  who  distinguished 
himself  during  the  convulsions  of  the  Norman  Conquest. 
"He  was  a  good  monk  and  a  good  man,  loved  uf  God  and  of 
good  men." ''' 

For  myself,  who  for  more  than  twenty  years  have  lived  in 
the  good  and  great  company  of  the  monks  of  otlier  times,  1 
declare  that  it  is  there  above  all,  and  perhaps  there  only,  tnat 
I  have  recognized  the  school  of  true  courage,  true  freedom, 
and  true  dignity:  when,  after  long  intervals,  and  from  the 
midst  of  the  painful  experiences  of  political  life,  I  returned 
to  the  study  of  their  acts  and  writings,  I  met  there  another 
race,  of  other  hearts  and  heroisms.  I  owe  to  them,  in  a  point 
of  view  merely  human,  my  thanks  for  having  reconciled  me 
to  men,  by  opening  to  me  a  world  in  whicli  1  hardly  ever 
found  either  an  egotist  or  a  liar,  an  ungrateful  or  servile  soul. 
There  1  have  beheld,  there  I  have  tasted,  that  noble  inde- 
pendence which  belongs,  by  right  of  their  humility  itself,  to 
Fiumble  and  magnanimous  souls.  There  I  have  learned  to 
understand  how,  and  by  what  means,  great  corporations  and 
successive  generations  of  good  men  have  been  able  to  live  at 
an  equal  distance  from  the  unrestrained  license  and  the  ab- 
ject servility  which  alternately  characterize  our  modern 
society,  in  which  individual  man,  conscious  that  he  is  noth- 
ing, that  he  has  neither  a  root  in  the  past  nor  an  influence 
upon  the  future,  prostrates  himself  entirely  before  the.  idol 
of  the  moment,  reserving  to  himself  only  the  right  of  demol- 
ishing, of  betraj'ing,  and  of  forgetting  it  on  the  morrow. 

And  besides — why  should  not  I  acknowledge  it?  —  even 
in  the  midst  of  this  contemporary  Avorld,  the  downfalls  and 
miseries  of  which  have  been  to  me  so  bitter,  the  Divine  good- 
ness  brought  me  acquainted  in  my  youth  with  the  t}pe  of  a 
monk  of  ancient  times,  in  a  man  whose  name  and  glory  be- 
long to  our  time  and  country .^^  Although  he  was  not  j'et 
professed  at  the  time  when  our  souls  and  our  lives  drew 
close  to  each  other,  and  although  he  has  since  entered  an  or- 
der apart  from  the  monastic  family  of  which  I  have  become 
the  historian,  he  revealed  to  me,  better  than  all  books,  and 

^'  "Fuit  enim  bonus  monachus  et  bonus  vir :  proptoreaque  eum  dilexor'mt 
Deus  et  boni  viri." —  Chron.  Saxon.,  ad  ann.  1137,  p.  240,  ed.  Gibson. 

^^  Father  Lacordaire,  the  regenerator  of  the  Dominican  Order  in  Franc*;, 
and  the  most  celebrated  preacher  of  the  day. 


22  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

more  clearly  than  all  my  studies  of  the  past,  the  great  and 
noble  qualities  which  go  to  the  making  of  a  true  monk  —  self- 
abnegation,  fortitude,  devotion,  disinterestedness,  solid  and 
fervent  piet}^,  and  that  ti'ue  independence  which  does  not  ex- 
clude filial  obedience.  His  eloquence  has  astonished  a  coun- 
try and  a  time  accustomed  to  the  victories  of  eloquence  ;  his 
noble  genius  has  conquered  the  admiration  of  the  most  rebel- 
lious critics.  But  he  will  be  honored  by  God  and  by  a  Chris- 
tian posterity,  not  so  much  as  a  writer  and  an  orator,  but  as 
a  monk  austere  and  sincere. 

His  name  is  not  needed  here  —  all  who  read  will  have  di- 
vined it.  All  will  pardon  me  for  this  impulse-  of  a  heart 
younger  than  its  age,  and  for  this  homage  to  the  community 
of  contests,  ideas,  and  belief,  whicli  has  united  us  for  thirty 
years,  and  which  has  lasted  through  differences  of  sentiment 
as  well  as  diversity  of  career.  Our  union,  born  amid  the 
charming  dreams  and  confidence  of  youth,  has  survived  the 
reverses,  the  betrayals,  the  inconstancy,  and  the  cowardices 
which  have  overshadowed  our  mature  age,  and  has  helped 
me  to  overleap  the  abyss  which  separates  the  present  from 
the  past. 

Such  an  example,  in  spite  of  all  the  differences  of  times 
and  institutions,  helps  us  also  to  comprehend  the  influence 
of  the  noble  character  and  powerful  associations  with  which 
the  monastic  order  has  so  long  enriched  the  Church  and  the 
world.  For  the  reality  of  that  influence  is  incontestable. 
We  are  obliged  to  acknowledge,  under  pain  of  denying  the 
best  ascertained  facts  of  history,  those  succors  which  the 
most  difficult  virtues  and  the  most  generous  instincts  of  man, 
even  in  temporal  affairs,  have  drawn  from  the  bosom  of  the 
cloister,  when  the  whole  of  Europe  was  covered  with  these 
asylums,  open  to  the  best  intellects  and  highest  hearts. 

None  can  deny  the  ascendency  which  a  solitude  thus  peo- 
pled exercised  upon  the  age.  None  can  deny  that  the  world 
yielded  the  empire  of  virtue  to  those  who  intended  to  flee 
from  the  world,  and  that  a  simple  monk  might  become,  in  the 
depths  of  his  cell,  like  St.  Jerome  or  St.  Bernard,  the  centre 
of  his  epoch  and  the  lever  of  its  movements. 

Let  us  then  banish  into  the  world  of  fiction  that  affirma- 
tion, so  long  repeated  by  foolish  credulity,  which  made  mon- 
asteries, and  even  religion  itself,  an  asylum  for  indolence  and 
incapacity,  for  misanthropy  and  pusillanimity,  for  feeble  and 
melancholy  temperaments,  and  for  men  who  were  no  longer 
dt  to  serve  society  in  the  world.     Tlie  very  incomplete  nar- 


IXTRODUCTION.  23 

rative  which  I  shall  place  before  my  readers,  will,  T  venture 
to  believe,  suffice  to  prove  that  there  has  never  been  in  any 
society,  or  at  any  epoch,  men  more  energetic,  more  active  or 
more  practical,  than  the  monks  of"  the  middle  ages. 

We  shall  see  how  these  idlers  were  associated  dui-ing  ten 
centuries  with  all  the  greatest  events  of  t!ie  Church  and  of 
the  world  —  always  the  fii'st  in  labor  and  in  combat.  We 
shall  see  them  issuing  from  the  cloister  to  occupy  pulpits  and 
professors'  chairs,  to  direct  councils  and  conclaves,  parlia- 
ments and  crnsades;  and  returning  thither  to  rai^■e  monu- 
ments of  art  and  science,  to  erect  churches  and  produce 
books,  Avhich  astonish  and  defy  modern  pride.  We  shall  see 
that  these  dreamers  were,  above  all,  men  in  every  meaning  of 
the  word,  viri  —  men  of  heart  and  of  will,  with  whom  the 
most  .tender  charity,  and  humility  the  most  fervent,  excluded 
neither  perseverance,  nor  decision,  nor  boldness.  They  were 
masters  of  their  will.  Throughout  the  whole  duration  of  the 
Christian  ages,  the  cloister  was  the  permanent  nursery  of 
great  souls  —  that  is  to  say,  of  that  in  which  modern  civiliza- 
tion most  fails.  And  for  that  reason  we  repeat  it  without 
ceasing.  The  most  brilliant  and  enduring  glory  of  the  mo- 
nastic institution  was  the  vigorous  temper  which  it  gave  to 
Christian  souls  —  the  fertile  and  generous  discipline  which  it 
imposed  upon  thousands  of  heroic  hearts. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SERVICES   RENDERED  TO  CHRISTIANITY  BY  THE  MONKS.     ' 

Sine  fictione  didici,  et  sine  invidia  communico,  et  honestatem  (illorum)  non 
abscoudo.  —  Sap.  vii.  i:{. 

There  are  some  services  and  ti-iumphs  of  a  deep  and  silent 
kind  which  acquire  their  due  lK)nor  only  from  posterity,  and 
under  the  survey  of  history.  Such  are  those  which  we  have 
just  described.  But  there  are  otliers  more  visible  and  more 
palpable,  which  seize  at  once  upon  the  admiration  and  grati- 
tude of  contemporaries.  When  we  inquire  into  the  causes 
which  have  given  to  the  religious  orders,  from  their  origin, 
and  as  long  as  their  fervent  spirit  lasted,  a  part  so  important 
in  the  destinies  of  the  Church,  and  so  high  a  place  iu  the 


24  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

heart  of  all  the  Christian  populations,  it  seems  easy  to  recog 
nize  them  in  the  two  great  functions  common  to  all  the  or* 
ders  and  to  all  their  branches  —  Prayer  and  Alms. 

The  first  of  all  the  services  which  the  monks  have  con 
ferred  upon  Christian  society  was  that  of  praying  —  of  pray- 
ing much,  of  praying  always  for  those  whose  praj^ers  were 
evil  or  who  prayed  not  at  all.  Christianity  honored  and  es- 
teemed in  them,  above  all,  that  great  force  of  intercession; 
these  supplications,  always  active,  always  fervent;  these  tor- 
rents of  prayers,  poured  forth  unceasingly  at  the  feet  of  God, 
who  wills  that  w^o  should  supplicate  Him.  Thus  they  turned 
aside  the  wrath  of  God  ;  they  lightened  the  weight  of  the 
iniquities  of  the  world ;  they  re-established  the  equilibrium 
between  the  empire  of  heaven  and  the  empire  of  earth.  To 
the  eyes  of  our  fathers,  it  was  this  equilibrium  between 
prayer  and  action,  between  the  suppliant  voices  of  humanity, 
timorous  or  grateful,  and  the  incessant  din  of  its  passions  and 
labors,  which  maintained  the  world  in  its  place.  In  the  main- 
tenance of  this  equilibrium  lay  the  strength  and  life  of  the 
middle  ages ;  and  when  it  is  disturbed,  all  is  disturbed  in  the 
soul,  as  in  the  world. 

We  Avill  not  inquire  to  what  extent  this  disturbance  exists 
m  our  modern  world.  It  would  be  too  sad  to  enumerate  all 
the  points  of  the  globe  where  prayer  is  extinct,  and  where 
God  listens  for,  without  hearing,  the  voice  of  man.  We 
know  only  that  the  universal  need  of  prayer,  and  that  ardent 
trust  in  its  efficacy  which  characterized  the  middle  ages,  and 
which  their  detractors  instance  as  a  mark  of  childish  simpli- 
city, had  been  bequeathed  to  them  by  two  antiquities,  from 
whom  they  accepted  the  inheritance.  The  wisest  of  men  has 
said,  "  The  prayer  of  the  humble  pierceth  the  clouds :  and 
till  it  come  nigh,  he  will  not  be  comforted  ;  and  will  not  de- 
part till  the  Most  High  shall  behold  to  judge  righteously,  and 
.execute  judgment."  '  Homer,  who  was  nearly  contemporary 
with  Solomon,  brightened  his  mythology  Avith  a  light  almost 
divine,  when  he  made  Phoenix  say  to  Achilles,  in  that  famous 
address  which  survives  in  all  memories,  "  Even  the  gods  per- 
mit themselves  to  be  persuaded.  Ev'ery  day  men,  after  hav- 
ing offended  them,  succeed  in  appeasing  them  with  vows, 
with  offerings,  with  sacrifices,  libations,  and  prayers.  The 
Prayers  are  daughters  of  the  great  Jupiter.     Tottering,  and 

'  ••  Oratio  humiliantis  se  nubes  penetrabit :  et  donee  propinquet  non  con 
eolabitur;  et  nou  discedet,  donee  Altissimus  aspiciat."  —  Ecclic.  xxxv.  17. 


INTRODUCTION.  25 

with  a  wn'nkled  brow,  scarcely  lifting  their  humble  eyes, 
they  hasten  anxiously  after  the  steps  of  Wrong.  For  Wrong 
is  haughty  and  vigorous,  and  with  a  light  step  always  pre- 
cedes them.  She  hastens  throughout  the  earth  outraging 
men,  but  the  humble  Prayers  follow  her  to  heal  the  wounds 
which  she  has  made.  These  daughters  of  Jupiter  approach 
to  him  who  respects  and  listens  to  them.  They  bring  aid  to 
him,  they  hearken  in  their  turn,  and  grant  his  requests.  But 
if  a  man,  deaf  to  their  desires,  repulses  them,  they  fly  to- 
wards their  father,  and  implore  of  him  that  Wrong  may  at- 
tach herself  to  the  steps  of  that  man,  and  rigorously  avenge 
them."  ' 

I  cannot  imagine  a  finer  subject  than  the  history  of  prayer 
—  that  is  to  say.  the  history  of  that  which  the  creature  has 
said  to  her  Creator ;  the  tale  which  should  instruct  us  when, 
and  wherefore,  and  how  she  places  herself  to  recount  to  God 
her  miseries  and  joys,  her  fears  and  her  desires.  If  it  was 
given  to  a  human  pen  to  write  it,  that  history  should  be  the 
history  of  tlie  monks.  For  no  men  have  known,  as  they  did, 
how  to  wield  that  weapon  of  prayer,  so  well  defined  by  the 
most  illustrious  bishop  of  cur  days,  who  has  lately  showed  us 
how  "  the  great  witness  of  our  weakness  becomes,  in  the 
poor  and  feeble  breast,  a  power  redoubtable  and  irresistible 
to  heaven  itself :  Omnipotentia  supj^lex.''  "  God,"  continues 
that  eloquent  prelate,  "■  in  throwing  us  into  the  depths  of  this 
valley  of  miser}',  has  willed  to  bestow  upon  our  feebleness, 
upon  our  crimes  even,  the  potency  of  prayer  against  Himself 
and  His  justice.  When  a  man  makes  up  his  mind  to  proy, 
and  when  he  prays  well,  his  weakness  itself  becomes  a 
strength.  Prayer  equals  and  surpasses  sometimes  the  power 
of  God.  It  triumphs  over  His  will,  His  wrath,  even  over 
His  justice."* 

The  Gospel  has  assured  us  of  nothing  more  certain  than  this 
omnipotence  of  prayer.  "  If  ye  shall  say  unto  this  mountain. 
Be  thou  removed,  and  be  thou  cast  into  the  sea,  it  shall  be 
done.  And  all  things  whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  in  prayer^ 
believing,  ye  shall  receive."  '  "  Jesus  Christ,"  says  Bossuet, 
*'  expressly  uses  comparisons  so  extraordinary  to  show  that  all 

2  Iliad,  ix.  497-512. 

^  M.  DuPANLonp,  Bishop  of  Orleans  —  First  Sermon  upon  Prayer,  Lent, 
1858. 

■*  Matth.  xxi.  21,  22;  Mark  xi.  23.  It  is  said  elsewhere:  "  He  will  fulfil 
the  desire  of  them  that  fear  Him"  (Ps.  cxlv.  19).  And  again:  "Ye  shall 
ask  what  ye  will,  and  it  shall  he  done  unto  you"  (John  xv.  7).  The  Fiat  lu3 
is  not  more  energetic. 

VOL.  I.  "^ 


26  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

is  possible  to  him  who  prays."  And  he  adds,  "  Behold  her« 
the  prodigy  of  prodigies  —  man  reclothed  with  the  omnipo- 
tence of  God  !"5 

Penetrated  by  this  conviction,  men  of  old  neglected  no 
means  and  no  occasion  of  augmenting  and  maintaining  the 
intensity  of  prayer  in  its  highest  form.  Of  old,  as  to-day, 
there  were  doubtless  many  Christians  no  better  instructed 
how  to  pray  than  he  who  writes  these  lines.  But  all  rec- 
ognized the  importance  —  the  grandeur  —  the  necessity  of 
prayer.  All  admitted  that  the  greatest  blessing  of  Heaven  to 
a  nation,  to  a  family,  or  to  a  soul,  was  to  shed  abroad  npon  it 
the  spirit  of  prayer.  All  understood  and  all  acknowledged 
that  this  flame  of  the  heart  should  ascend  to  God  by  hands 
specially  consecrated  to  that  august  mission.  All  passion- 
ately invoked  that  pledge  of  true  fraternity.  All  thirsted 
for  that  alms  ;  and,  to  obtain  it,  all  turned  towards  the  monks. 

Thus,  as  long  as  the  monks  remained  faithful  to  the  spirit 
of  their  institution,  their  special  mission,  their  first  duty  was 
to  pray,  not  only  for  themselves,  but  for  all.  They  had  been 
the  veteran  and  indefatigable  champions  of  Christianity  in 
the  "  holy  and  perpetual  struggle  of  human  prayer  with  the 
divine  omnipotence."^  Gathered  together  and  constituted 
by  rule  for  prayer  in  common,  they  were  regarded  with 
reason  by  the  good  sense  of  the  Christian  populations  as  a 
potency  of  intercession,  instituted  for  the  salvation  of  souls 
and  of  nations.  Thanks  to  them,  prayer  existed  in  the 
character  of  an  institution  of  permanent  and  public  force, 
universally  recognized  and  blessed  by  God  and  by  man. 

''  Where  goest  thou  ?  "  said  the  Emperor  Valens  one  day 
to  a  noble  Persian,  Aphraate,  Avho  had  become  a  monk  and 
missionary  of  the  Nicean  faith.  '•  I  go  to  pray  for  your 
empire,"  answered  the  monk. "'  In  the  midst  of  the  pomps  of 
the  Byzantine  Court,  the  most  ancient  and  eloquent  apologist 
of  the  order,  St.  John  Chrysostom,  declared  in  words  which 
have  not  grown  old,  the  sovereign  efficacy  of  monastic 
prayer  —  "  The  beneficence  of  the  monks  is  more  than  royal : 
the  king,  if  he  is  good,  can  solace  the  hardships  of  the  body  ; 
but  the  monk,  by  his  prayers,  frees  souls  from  the  tyranny 
of  demons.     A  man  who  is   struck  by  a  spiritual  affliction 

»  Meditations  on  the  GQspel,  part  i.,  39th  day ;  part  ii.,  21st  day. 

6    M.   UUPANLOUP,  1.   C. 

^  "  Imperator  ad  ilium:  Die,  inquit,  quo  vadis?  Pro  tuo,  inquit,  regno 
precaturus."  —  Theodobeti,  Ecclesiast.  Histor.,  lib,  iv.,  c.  26,  t.  iii.  p.  28i, 
edit.  Cantabr. 


INTRODUCTION.  27 

passes  before  a  king  as  before  a  body  without  life,  and  flies 
to  the  dwelling  of  the  monks,  as  a  peasant  terrified  by  the 
sight  of  a  wolf,  takes  refuge  near  the  huntsman  armed  with 
a  sword.  What  a  sword  is  to  the  huntsman,  pra3'er  is  to  the 
monk.  ,  .  .  Nor  is  it  we  alone  who  seek  that  shelter  in 
our  necessities;  kings  themselves  invoke  them  in  their 
dangers, — all,  like  mendicants  fleeing,  as  in  time  of  famine, 
to  the  houses  of  the  rich."  ® 

The  words  of  St.  John  Chiysostom  became  a  historical 
truth  when  the  Christian  royalty  had  replaced,  at  the  head 
of  new  nations,  the  dishonored  majesty  of  the  Ccesars.  Dur- 
ing a  thousand  years,  and  among  all  the  Catholic  popula- 
tions, we  perceive  what  an  enviable  resource  the  princes 
find  in  the  prayers  of  the  monks,  and  how  the}^  glorify  them- 
selves by  confidence  in  them.  At  the  apotheosis  of  the 
feudal  age,  when  the  fleet  of  Philip  Augustus,  sailing  towards 
the  Holy  Land,  was  assailed  in  the  Sicilian  seas  by  a  horrible 
tempest,  the  king  reanimated  courage  and  confidence  in  the 
breasts  of  the  sailors  by  reminding  them  what  intercessors 
they  had  left  upon  the  soil  of  their  country.  "  it  is  midnight," 
he  said  to  them  ;  '^  it  is  the  hour  when  the  community  of  Clair- 
vaux  arise  to  sing  matins.  These  holy  monks  never  forget 
us  — they  are  going  to  appease  Christ —  they  go  to  pray  for 
us  ;  and  their  prayers  will  deliver  us  out  of  peril."  ^ 

A  similar  story  is  told  of  Charles  V.,  a  great  emperor  iu 
spite  of  his  errors,  who,  in  the  decline  of  the  Catholic  ages, 
fired  by  a  last  breath  of  that  flame  which  had  illuminated  the 
Crusades,  twice  led  his  fleets  and  his  armies  against  the 
infidels  ;  first  to  victory,  and  afterwards  to  defeat,  on  those 
coasts  of  Africa  where  St.  Louis  died. 

Like  its  chiefs,  the  entire  mass  of  Christian  society,  during 
the  whole  period  of  the  middle  age,  showed  a  profound  con- 
fidence in  the  superior  and  invincible  power  of  monastic 
prayer ;  and  for  this  reason  endowed  with  its  best  gifts  those 
who  interceded  the  best  for  it.    All  the  generations  repeated, 

8  S.  Joan.    Ciirys.,    Comparatio   Regis  et   MonacJii,   c.  4;  cf.  Homel.  in 
ifatih.,  G8-72,  et  in  B,  P/nlogomum,  c.  3,  ed.  Gaume,  i.,  607. 
*  "Jam  inatutinas  Claravallensis  ad  lioras 

Concio  surrexit :  jam  sancta  oracula  sancti, 
Nostri  baud  immemores,  in  Christi  laude  resolvunt; 
Quorum  pacificat  nobis  oratio  Christum, 
Quorum  nos  tanto  prece  liberal  ecce  periclo. 
Vix  bene  finierat,  et  jam  fragor  omnis  et  sestus, 
Ventorumque  cadit  rabies,  pulsisque  tenebris, 
Splendiflua  radiant  et  luna  et  sidera  luce." 

GuiLLELM.  Bbktoriis  Pkilippidos,  iv.  Ht 


28  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

one  after  the  other,  with  an  inexhaustible  diversity  in  form, 
but  with  a  steadfast  unanimity  in  spirit,  the  formula  used  by 
St.  Eloysius  in  631,  in  his  charter  of  donation  to  the  monks  of 
Solignac — I,  your  supplicant,  in  sight  of  the  mass  of  my 
sins,  and  in  hope  of  being  delivered  from  them  by  God,  give 
to  you  a  little  thing  for  a  great,  earth  in  exchange  for 
heaven,  tliat  which  passes  away  for  that  which  is  eternal,"  ^^ 
Thus,  in  receiving  perishable  riches  from  the  hand  of  the 
faithful,  the  monks  appeared  to  all  to  return  the  price  of 
them  in  the  unmeasured  and  unparalleled  beneficence  of 
prayer.  By  their  mouth  the  voice  of  the  Church  rose  with- 
out ceasing  to  heaven,  drawing  down,  the  dew  of  divine 
benedictions.  They  inundated  the  whole  soil  of  Christen- 
dom with  a  fertilizing  moisture,  inexhaustible  source  of 
grace  and  consolation.  If  it  is  true,  as  human  wisdom  has 
said,  that  he  who  works  prays,  ma)'  we  not  also  believe  that 
he  who  prays  works,  and  that  such  work  is  the  most  fruitful 
and  the  most  meritorious  of  all  ?  '*  To  occupy  one's  self 
with  God,"  said  St.  Bernard,  "is  not  to  be  idle  —  it  is  the 
occupation  of  all  occupations."  ^^  It  is  this,  then,  which  has 
justified  and  glorified  in  the  eyes  of  Christian  people  all  the 
orders,  and  specially  those  whom  the  world  has  comprehended 
least  —  those  whom  it  has  blamed  for  idle  contemplations  and 
prolonged  prayers.  How  can  we  forget  that  it  is  precisely 
those  who  have  merited  and  obtained  the  first  place  in  the 
esteem  of  the  Church  and  the  gratitude  of  Christians?  Has 
not  St.  Augustine  even  said,  "  The  less  a  monk  labors  in  any 
thing  else  but  prayer,  the  more  serviceable  is  he  to  men?"  ^^ 
To  deny  that,  is  it  not  to  deny  the  Gospel?  Did  not  God 
himself  judge  that  cause  and  determine  that  question,  when 
he  took  the  part  of  Mary  against  Martha  ?i^ 

But  have  the  monks  confined  themselves  to  this  solitary 
class  of  benefits?  Has  prayer  been  the  only  proof  of  solici- 
tude, of  affection,  of  gratitude,  which  they  believed  them- 

10  u  j^gQ  supplex  vestcr,  coiisiderans  molem  peccatorum  meorum,  ut 
merear  ab  ipsis  erui  et  a  Doinino  sublevaii,  cedo  \obis  parva  pro  inagnis, 
terrena  pro  ccelestibus,  tenipnralia  pro  seternis."  —  Ap.  Mabil.,  Acta  SS. 
0.  B.,  t.  ii.,  p.  1092. 

"  "  Otiosuni  non  est  vacare  Deo,  sed  negotium  negotiorum  omnium." 

'*  "  Monachi  si  non  fideliuni  eleemosynis  juventur,  nccesse  est  eos  opere 
terreno,  quanto  fiddium  damno,  plus  solito  occupari." —  S.  Augustin.,  t.  v., 
p.  3192,  ed.  Gaume. 

'■*  "Creator  omnium  Deus,  per  hoc  quod  Mariai  causam  contra  Martliam 
assumpsit,  evidentius  patefecit."  —  Eugenii  Pap^  111.,  Epist.  ad  Wibald. 
Corbeiens.,  iu  Amplissima  Collect.,  t.  ii.,  p.  293. 


INTRODUCTION.  29 

selves  able  to  f^ive  to  their  brother?,  to  their  bencf^ictors,  to 
all  the  Christian  coinmtinity?  Did  they  practise  the  giving 
of  alms  only  under  this  purely  spiritual  form?  No;  all  his- 
tory witnesses  to  the  contrary.  All  her  monuments  prove 
that  the  religious  orders  have  practised  a  charity,  active  and 
palpable,  such  as  had  never  been  before  them,  and  can  never 
be  exercised  by  otlier  hands.  They  have  displayed  in  that 
task  all  the  intelligence  and  devotedness  that  is  given  to  man. 
To  that  unfortunate  multitude  condemned  to  labor  and  priva- 
tion, which  constitutes  the  immense  majority  of  the  human 
race,  the  monks  have  always  been  prodigal,  not  only  of  bread, 
but  at  the  same  time  of  a  sympathy  efficacious  and  indefat- 
igable—  a  nourislnnent  of  the  soul  not  less  important  than 
thnt  of  the  body.^*  What  delicate  cares,  what  tender  fore- 
sight, what  ingenious  precautions,  have  been  invented  and 
practised  during  twelve  centuries  in  these  houses  of  prayer, 
which  count  among  their  dignitaries  les  injirmiers  des  paa- 
vres,  the  nurses  of  the  poor.^^  After  having  given  an  inces- 
sant and  generous  hospitality  to  the  indigent  crowd  whom 
they  never  found  too  numerous,^^  after  having  edified  and  re- 
joiced them  by  the  sight  of  their  own  peaceful  and  gentle 
life,  they  offered  to  them,  besides,  in  time  of  war,  a  shelter, 
an  asylum  almost  always  respected  by  Catholic  conquerors. 
After  having  given  all  that  they  could  give  on  their  own 
account,  they  inspired  to  marvels  of  generosity  all  those  who 
loved  and  surrounded  them.  Their  aspect  alone  seems  to  have 
been  a  permanent  sermon  to  the  profit  of  charity.  Their 
habitual  familiarity  with  the  great  has  always  benefited  the 

'*  To  quote  only  one  example  among  a  thousand,  we  see,  in  the  fifth 
century,  Ht.  Lie,  Abbot  of  Mantenay,  in  Champagne,  working  wiih  his  own 
hands  in  the  vineyard  of  the  convent,  carrying  with  him  bread  to  distribute 
to  the  poor;  and,  whilst  they  ate  it,  preaching  to  them  the  fear  and  the  love 
of  God.  — Desguerrois,  Histoire  du  Diocese  de  Troycs,  p.  110. 

'*  Infirmarii  pauperum.  There  were  such  at  Clairvaux  to  whom  Thiemar 
of  Juvencourt  bequeathed  in  1244  twelve  deniers  of  annual  income,  payable 
at  Martinmas.  —  Extracts  MSS.  made  by  D.  Guitton  from  the  Archives  oj 
Clairvaux,  t.  ii.,  fol.  79. 

'^  They  were  no  sooner  escaped  from  proscription  and  ruin,  than  they  re- 
sumed faitlifully  and  universally  the  habits  of  their  fathers.  After  the  Cis- 
tercians or  English  Trappists  of  Melleray  had  been  expelled  from  that  abbey 
in  1831,  some  few  from  among  them  returned  to  England,  and,  favored  by 
the  religious  liberty  which  reigned  there,  and  by  the  munificence  of  Mr.  Am- 
brose Lisle  Philips,  they  were  able  to  settle  in  an  uncultivated  region  called 
Charnwood  Forest,  in  the  centre  of  a  province  in  which  monks  had  not  been 
seen  for  three  centuries.  In  this  new  monastery  they  have  so  well  followed 
the  traditions  of  their  fathers,  that,  from  the  1st  of  January  1845  to  the  21st 
of  April  of  thfe  same  year,  they  have  given  alms  and  hospitality  to  6327  of  th« 
poor  —  and  lived  tliemselves  only  on  charity! 
3* 


30  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

small.  If  they  were  richly  endowed  by  rich  Christians,  they 
in  their  turn  endowed  the  poor  with  this  purified  wealth. 
and  became  thus  the  intermediar}^  agents,  delicate  and  inde- 
fatigable, from  whose  hands  the  alms  once  bestowed  by  the 
rich  descended  in  perpetuity  upon  the  poor.^" 

They  have  nobly  and  faithfully  fulfilled  that  mission  ;  and 
everywhere,  even  in  the  depths  of  their  modern  decadence, 
that  supreme  virtue  of  charity  has  specially  distinguished 
them.  In  recent  ages,  the  spirit  of  the  world  had  every- 
where invaded  them,  but  had  never  been  able  to  extirpate 
from  their  hearts  the  pious  prodigality  of  their  ancestors. 
The  world  had  never  succeeded  in  closing  that  door,  from 
which  has  flowed  forth  upon  the  surrounding  population  the 
inexhaustible  current  of  their  benefits,  so  well  symbolized 
by  that  wicket  of  Clairvaux,  which,  in  the  time  of  the 
monks,  was  called  La  Donne,^^  and  which  we  can  still  see 
standing,  though  defaced  and  blocked  up  by  the  modern 
desecrators  of  the  monastery  of  St.  Bernard.  No  ;  the  most 
enterprising  traveller,  the  most  unfriendly  investigator,  may 
search  thorouglily,  as  we  have  done,  through  the  ruins  and 
traditions  of  the  cloisters  ;  he  shall  nowhere  find  a  single 
monastery,  however  it  may  have  been  in  its  last  days,  wliich 
has  not  deserved  the  funeral  oration,  which  we  heard  on 
visiting  the  remains  of  the  Val-des  Choux,  in  Champagne, 
from  the  lips  of  an  old  woman  contemporary  with  the  monks, 
—  "  It  was  a  true  convent  of  charity  ! "' 

Our  modern  experience  can,  doubtless,  easily  conceive  of 
means  more  intelligent  and  eflScacious  for  relieving  poverty, 

"  In  March  1228  Elizabeth,  lady  of  Chateauvillain,  gave  to  tlio  Cistercians 
of  Clairvaux  620  livres  de  Provins  in  alms.  They  employed  that  sum  in 
buying  the  great  titlie  of  Morinvilliers,  and  consecrating  the  produce  of  it  to 
distribute  clothes  and  shoes  every  year,  on  the  day  of  the  Nativity  of  Our 
Lady,  to  eiglity  poor:  Quod  unusquisque  pauper  quinque  alnas  de  burello 
novo  et  sotulares  novos  .  .  .  percipiet.  If  this  tithe  produced  more  than  was 
necessary  for  the  number  appointed,  this  surplus  was  to  be  employed  ex- 
clusively in  buying  shoes  for  other  poor,  all  for  the  good  of  the  soul  of  the 
said  lad}'. —  MSS,  Gcitton,  p.  421,  from  the  copy  of  Langres.  It  would  be 
easy  to  quote  ten  thousand  analogous  examples ;  we  limit  ourselves  here  to 
two  or  three  of  those  which  belong  to  the  same  Abbey  of  St.  Bernard. 

'*  Information  furnished  to  the  author  in  183'J  by  the  octogenarian  Postel, 
who  had  been  plumber  of  the  ancient  abbey,  now  transformed  into  a  central 
police-office.  Elisende,  Countess  of  Bar-sur-Seine,  gave  in  1224  a  villa  to 
tlie  abbey,  with  the  intention  of  providing  specially  the  alms  which  were 
bestowed  at  that  gate.  We  find  also  a  gate  called  La  Donne,  in  the  sad  ruins 
of  Echarlis,  a  Cistercian  abbey,  situated  between  Joigny  and  Courtena)'. 
At  least  it  still  existed  in  1846.  At  Aubrac,  a  monastic  hospital  of  Rouergue, 
there  was  a  gate  called  De  la  Miche,  because  they  gave  there  a  loaf  of  bread 
to  all  who  came  to  ask  it.  —  Bousquet,  UAnc.  Ildpital  d' Aubrac,  p.  150. 


INTRODUCTION.  31 

and,  above  all,  for  preventing  it;  but  how  can  we  refrain 
from  feeling  and  acknowledging  gratitude  to  those  who, 
during  «o  long  a  time  and  with  such  an  inexhaustible  mu- 
nififenGe,  have  accomplished  all  the  duties  of  charity  and 
Christian  brotherhood,  according  to  the  measure  of  the  light 
of  their  times?  Besides,  it  was  not  solely  by  direct  alms- 
giving that  they  served,  and  softened,  and  improved  Christian 
society  :  it  was  still  more  by  the  honor  which  they  rendered 
to  poverty.  This,  as  one  of  their  most  courageous  and  most 
regretted  defenders  among  ourselves  has  already  indicated,^^ 
is  one  of  the  principal  advantages  which  the  religious  orders 
offer  to  the  world,  but  it  is  also  one  of  the  aspects  which  is 
most  repugnant  to  that  spirit  which  would  fain  exclude  God 
from  modern  society.  The  infidel  loves  not  the  poor  —  they 
remind  him  too  much  of  a  compensating  justice,  of  a  future 
in  which  ever}''  one  shall  be  put  in  his  proper  place  for  eter- 
nity. He  loves  not  those  who  regard  them  with  kindness 
and  sympathy.  He  knows  well  that  the  power  of  the  priest 
is  enrooted  in  the  miseries  of  this  life.  Pie  would  willingly 
say  with  Barrere,  "  Almsgiving  is  an  invention  of  sacerdotal 
vanity."  He  will  never  be  able  to  .eradicate  the  laws  and 
necessities  of  afflicted  nature  ;  but  wc  know  that  he  has  too 
often  succeeded  in  securing  a  temporary  triumph  for  that 
fatal  system  which  seeks  to  make  charity  a  humiliation,-'^ 
alms  an  impost,  and  mendicity  a  crime  ;  and  by  which  the 
wicked  rich  man,  more  pitiless  than  he  of  the  Gospel,  will 
not  even  tolerate  Lazarus  upon  the  steps  of  his  palace. 

It  is  precisely  the  reverse  of  this  that  the  religious  orders 
have  designed  and  accomplished.  They  were  not  satisfied 
simply  to  solace  poverty;  they  honored  it,  consecrated  it, 
adopted,  espoused  it,  as  that  which  was  greatest  and  most 
royal  here  below.  "  The  friendship  of  the  poor,"  says  St. 
Bernard,  "  constitutes  us  the  friends  of  kings,  but  the  love 
of  poverty  makes  kings  of  us."^i  *'  We  are  the  poor  of 
Christ."  Pauperis  Christi  is  the  enviable  distinction  of  the 
monks:  and  to  prove  it  the  better,  we  see,  when  the  great 
orders  proceeding  ou^"  of  the  Benedictine  stock  declined,  an 
entirely  new  family  of  Religious  arise,  taking  as  the  basis  of 

'^  Ch.  Lenokmant,  Des  Associations  Religieuses  dans  le  Catliolicisme, 
Paris,  1815,  p.  182. 

-"  "  Cliarity  degrades  and  lowers  those  who  receive  it:  beneficence  does 
not  so."  —  Extract  of  the  Report  after  which  the  Boards  of  Cliaritj  continued 
to  take  tlie  name  of  Boards  of  Beneficence  in  1831,  quoted  in  the  Annales  dt 
la  Qharite,  t.  i.,  p.  597,  Oct.  1845. 

^'  "  Amicitia  jiauperum  regum  amicos  constituit :  amor  paupertatis  reges.' 
—  S.  Bern.,  ep.  ciii. 


32  THE  r.ioNKS  of  the  west. 

their  existence  the  voluntary  exercise  of  poverty  in  its  most 
repulsive  aspect — that  is  to  say,  mendicity  —  and  lasting 
until  our  own  days  under  the  name  of  Ilendicant  Orders. 
But  long  before  this,  and  at  all  times,  the  monks  knew  well 
how  to  ennoble  poverty.  At  the  beginning  they  opened 
their  ranks,  and  placed  there,  from  the  origin  of  their  insti- 
tution, slaves,  serfs,  and  men  of  the  extremest  indigence, 
beside,  and  sometimes  above,  princes  and  nobles :  for  it  is 
above  all  to  the  monastic  condition  that  the  fine  expression 
of  the  Comte  de  Maistre  upon  the  priesthood  in  ancient  soci 
ety  applies  :  "  It  Avas  neither  above  the  last  man  of  the  State, 
nor  beneath  the  first."  ^^ 

And  even  to  the  poor  who  did  not  enter  into  their  ranks, 
the  monastic  order  presented  a  spectacle  more  adapted  than 
any  other  to  console  them,  and  to  elevate  them  in  their  own 
eyes  —  that  of  the  poverty  and  voluntary  humiliation  of  the 
great  men  of  the  earth  who  enrolled  themselves  in  a  cro-wd 
under  the  frock^^a  Prom  the  cradle  of  the  institution,  the 
fathers  and  the  doctors  of  the  Church  had  already  ascertained 
the  consolation  which  the  poor  experienced  in  seeing  the 
sons  of  the  greatest  families  clothed  in  these  miserable  monk- 
ish habits,  which  the  most  indigent  would  have  disdained, 
and  the  laborer  seated  upon  the  same  straw  as  the  noble,  or 
the  general  of  an  army  :  the  one  as  free  as  the  other  in  the 
same  libert}^,  ennobled  by  the  same  nobility,  serfs  of  the  same 
servitude,'-^^  all  blended  in  the  holy  equality  of  a  voluntary 
humility .25  During  the  whole  course  of  the  middle  age,  each 
year,  each  country,  saw  the  perpetual  renewal  of  that  ma;> 
vellous  sacrifice  of  the  most  precious  and  envied  possessions 
in  the  world,  which  their  possessors  immolated  as  they  im- 
molated themselves  upon  the  altar  of  some  obscure  monastery. 
What  lesson  of  resignation  or  humility  is  it  possible  to  im- 
agine for  the  poor,  more  eloquent  than  the  sight  of  a  queen, 
of  the  son  of  a  king,  or  the  nephew  of  an  emperor,  occupied 
by  an  effort  of  their  own  free  choice  in  washing  the  plates, 
or  oiling  the  shoes  of  the  last  peasant  who  had  become  a 
novice? 2^     Now  we   can  reckon  by  thousands,  sovereigns, 

^^  Lettre  inedite  sur  V Instruction  Publique  en  Russie,  Ami  de  la  R£ligion, 
t.  cxix.  p.  212. 

*^  S.  John  Chrtsost.,  in  Matthceum  Ilomil.,  G8  et  69;  ed.  Gaume,  t.  vii. 
p.  761  et  773. 

^  Advers.  Oppug.   Vit.  Monast.,  lib.  iii.  t.  i.  p.  115. 

**  Uomil.  in  Matth.,  G2,  p.  795. 

*®  Let  us  quote,  among  many  otiiers  of  whom  we  shall  speak  later,  St 
Ftadegund,  wife  of  Clotharius  1.;  Carloman,  son   of  Pepin  the   Short;  St 


INTRODUCTION.  33 

dukes,  counts,  nobles  of  every  order,  and  women  of  equal 
rank,  who  have  given  themselves  to  such  vile  offices,  burying 
in  the  cloister  a  grandeur  and  a  power,  of  which  the  dimin- 
ished grandeurs,  ephemeral  and  xmconsidered,  of  our  modern 
society  can  give  no  idea.-^  And  even  now,  in  our  own  days, 
wherever  the  cloister  is  permitted  to  survive  or  to  be  resus- 
citated, the  same  sacrifices,  in  proportion  to  our  social  infe- 
riority, reappear  —  the  same  homage  is  rendered  to  poverty 
!>y  the  free  will  of  tlie  rich  —  so  natural  has  the  immolation 
of  self  become  to  a  man  who  is  governed  by  grace,  and  so 
inexhaustible  is  the  treasure  of  consolation  and  respect  which 
the  Church,  mother  of  all  the  religious  orders,  holds  always 
open  to  the  poorest  among  her  children. 

These  first  foundations  laid,  and  these  primary  conditions 
of  the  true  grandeur  and  supreme  utility  of  the  monks  suf- 
ficiently indicated,  let  us  pass  to  those  services  less  brilliant, 
but  also  less  disputed,  which  all  agree  in  reckoning  to  their 
credit. 

And  if  you  would  have  us  speak,  in  the  first  place,  of  the 
services  which  they  have  rendered  to  knowledge,  we  desire 
no  better.  We  can  never  adequately  tell  how  marvellously 
their  life  was  adapted  for  study,  for  the  ardent,  active,  and 
assiduous  cultivation  of  letters.  We  can  never  sufficiently 
celebrate  their  touching  modesty,  their  indefiitigable  re- 
searches, their  penetration  almost  supernatural.  We  can 
never  sufficiently  regret  the  resources  and  the  guarantees 
offered  by  these  great  centres  of  literature  to  the  most  ele- 
vated works  of  erudition,  of  history,  of  criticism,  by  that 
spirit  of  succession,  that  transmission  of  an  intellectual  and 
moral  inheritance,  which  encouraged  them  to  the  longest  and 
most  thankless  undertakings.  Ah  !  who  shall  restore,  not 
only  to  studious  readers,  but,  above  all,  to  authors,  these  vast 
and  innumerable  libraries,  always  keeping  up  to  the  day,  and 
receiving  the  contemporary  stream  of  all  publications  se- 
riously useful,  which,  by  that  very  fact,  secured  to  these 
publications  an  utterance  which  they  lack  at  the  present 

Frederick,  cousin  of  the  emperor  St.  Henry;  St.  Amedeus  of  Bonnevaux; 
Henri,  brother  of  Louis  the  Fat,  monk  at  Clairvaux. 

*^  To  measure  the  abyss  wiiich  separates  modern  ranks  and  titles  from 
those  which  were  sacrificed  in  the  middle  age  by  embracing  cloistral  life,  one 
has  only  to  picture  to  one's  self  the  difference  t)etween  a  count  of  to-day  and 
a  count  of  the  twelfth  century.  And  with  the  exception  of  ecclesiastical 
dignities  alone,  is  it  not  very  much  the  same  with  all  titles  and  distinctions 
whatsoever? 


34  THE  MONKS  CF  THE  WEST. 

time,  and  wliich  they  ask,  like  everything  else,  with  anxious 
servility  from  the  State?  Let  us  add,  that  we  can  never  re- 
gret sufficiently  that  disinterested  devotion  to  science,  apart 
I'rom  the  self-satisfaction  of  vanity  or  any  material  advantage, 
wliich  seems  to  have  perished  with  them.^^ 

But  the  service  which  we  should  most  desire  to  secure 
oui'selves  from  forgetting,  and  which  the  religious  orders 
have  rendered  longest  and  with  most  success  to  the  human 
mind,  has  been  the  purifying  it  by  charity  and  subduing  it 
by  humility.  They  have  thus  conveiied  a  larger  number  of 
savants  than  they  have  made ;  and  these  were,  of  all  conver- 
sions, the  ones  most  highly  considered  in  the  middle  age, 
Avhich  understood  that  of  all  pride  the  most  dangerous  and 
incurable  is  that  of  knowledge.  We  owe  to  a  monk  that  say- 
ing which  pronounces  the  eternal  condemnation  of  intellec- 
tual pride  —  "  To  know,  is  to  love."^^ 

And  let  us  once  more  celebrate  all  that  they  have  done  to 
cultivate  and  people  the  West.  There  we  can  say  nothing 
that  does  not  fall  short  of  the  truth.  But  every  attempt  at 
justice,  however  tardy  and  incomplete,  will  be  at  least  a 
commencement  of  reparation  towards  those  pretended  slug- 
gaids,  so  long  and  so  unjustly  calumniated,  and  of  legitimate 
protest  against  the  odious  ingratitude  of  which  they  have 
been  victims.-  Who  will  be  able  to  believe,  hereafter,  that 
the  French  people  has  permitted  the  men  and  the  institutions 
to  which  three-eighths  of  the  cities  and  towns  of  our  country 
owe  their  existence,  to  be,  in  their  name,  ignominiously 
driven  forth,  pursued,  and  pi-oscribed?^^  Let  us  unfold  the 
map  of  France.  Let  us  mention  the  names  of  towns  actually 
existing.  St.  Brieuc,  St.  Malo,  St.  Leonard,  St.  Yrieix,  St. 
Jnnien,  St.  Calais,  St.  Maixent,  St.  Servan,  St.  Valery,  St. 
Riquier,  St.  Omer,  St  Pol,  St.  Amand,  St.  Quentin,  St,  Venant, 
Bergues  St.  Vinox,  St.  Germain,  St.  Pourgain,  St.  Pardoux,  St. 
Diey,  St.  Avoid,  St.  Sever.  All  these  bear  the  names  of  men  ; 
yes,  and  the  names  of  saints,  and,  what  is  more,  the  names 
of  monks  !     The  names  of  men  admirable,  but  now  unknown, 

***  Lt't  us  recall,  in  connection  with  this,  the  nohle  homage  which  lias  been 
rctidcrfd  in  our  day  to  the  Benedictines  of  Saint-Germain-des-Pres,  by  one 
of  the  iiiofit  illustrious  of  our  modern  scholars,  by  a  man  of  whom  it  may  be 
said  with  justice  that  he  was  worthy  to  belong  to  the  body  which  he  has  so 
well  comprihended  and  so  much  praised  —  M.  Guerard,  in  his  prolegomena 
of  the  I'oli/^jtique  d' Irminon. 

'^^  Tritliemius,  Abbot  of  Spanheim. 

^^  According  to  the  calculation  of  P.  Loncdevll,  Histoire  de  VEglist 
Gallicane. 


INTRODUCTION.  35 

forgotten,  disdained,  even  in  the  midst  of  tl/ese  nngratcfnl 
towns,  which  owe  their  existence  to  tlie  devoted  labors  of 
these  ancient  fanatics  !  Ask  an  actnal  inhabitant  of  one  of 
these  towns,  it  matters  not  which,  who  was  the  founder  whose 
name  and  memory  ought,  we  might  suppose,  to  be  identified 
with  his  earliest  and  most  lasting  impressions.  He  cannot 
answer.  Yet  the  pagans  themselves  felt,  acknowledged,  and 
consecrated,  a  sweet  and  innoffensive  respect  for  municipal 
traditions,  for  the  genealogies  of  places,  and  that  holy  old  ago 
of  cities,  which  Pliny,  in  his  admirable  epistle,  loves  to  de- 
scribe and  identify  with  their  dignity  and  liberty  itself.^^ 

But  besides  these,  how  many  other  flourishing  towns  are 
there  everywhere,  which,  without  bearing  their  origin  writ- 
ten in  their  name,  are  not  the  less  born  in  the  shadow  of  the 
cloister,  and  under  the  protection  of  the  paternal  government 
of  the  monks  !  In  France,  for  example  :  Gueret,^^  Pamiers,^^ 
Perpignan,  Aurillac,  Lu^on,  Tulle,  St.  Pons,  St.  Papoul,  St. 
Girons,  St.  Lizier,  Lescar,  St.  Denis,  Redon,  La  Rdole,  Nantua, 
Sarlat,  Abbeville,  Domfront,  Altkirch,  Remiremont,  Uzerches, 
Brives,St.  Jean  d'Angely,Gaillac,  Mauriac,  Brioude,  St.Amand 
en  Berry.s^  In  Franche  Comte  alone  :  Lure,  Luxeuil,  the 
two  Bauraes,  Faverney,  Chateau-Chalon,  Salins,  Morteau, 
Mouthe,  Montbenoit,  and  St.  Claude,  all  founded  by  the 
monks,  Avho  have  peopled  the  Jura  and  its  hillsides.  In  Bel- 
gium :  Ghent,  Bruges,  Mons,  Maubeuge,  Nivolle,  Stavelot, 
Malmi^dy,  Malines,  Dunkirk,  St.  Trend,  Soignies,  Ninove,  Re- 
naix,  Liege.  In  Germany  :  Fulda,  Fritztar,  Wissemburg,  St. 
Goar,   Werden,  Hoxter,   Gandersheim,    Quedlinburg,    Nord- 

^^  "  Eeverere  conditorcs  deos,  nomina  deorum ;  reverere  gloriam  veterem 
et  banc  ipsara  senectutom,  quce  in  homine  veiierahilis,  in  urhibus  sacra  est. 
Sit  apud  te  lionor  antiquitati,  sit  ingentibus  factis,  sit  fabulis  quoque  :  niliil 
ex  cujusquam  dignitate,  niliil  ex  libertate,  nihil  etiam  ex  jactatione  decerpse- 
ris."  —  C.  Plinius  sec,  Ad  Maximum,  epist.  viii.  24. 

*^  Founded  in  720  by  the  Abbot  St.  Pardoux,  called  at  first  the  Bourgaux- 
Moines. 

"^  Castle  belonging  to  the  Abbey  of  Eredelas,  restored  to  the  abbey  by 
Roger  II.,  Count  of  Foix.  so  that  the  village  formed  around  the  enclosure. 
It  is  from  this  fusion  of  the  castle,  the  abbey,  and  the  village,  that  the  epis- 
copal town  of  Pamiers  has  sprung.  —  We  shall  dispense  with  attaching  an 
analogous  note  to  each  of  the  names  which  we  shall  quote. 

^^  We  quote  only  the  chief  places  of  the  diocese,  of  tiie  province,  or  of  the 
district,  and  we  leave  unnoticed  many  other  localities  more  or  less  important, 
which  have  had  a  monastery  for  their  cradle,  such  as  Cluny,  Tournus,  iVlou- 
zon,  Paray-le-Monial,  la  Chaise-Dieu,  Aigues-Mortes  (Ibiinded  by  the  Abbey 
of  Psalmodi),  &c.  We  refer  to  the  learned  work  of  M.  Branche,  L' Auvergne 
au  Moyen  Age,  t.  i.  p.  439,  for  the  curious  enumera;ion  of  the  thirty-six 
towns,  market-towns,  and  virages  of  Auvergne,  which  owed  their  origin  to 
the  monks. 


S6  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

tiansen,  Lindau,  Kempten,  Munster.  In  England:  Westinin 
ster,  Bath,  Reading,  Dorchester,  Whitb}',  Beverly,  Eipon, 
Boston,  Hexham,  Evesham,  St.  Edmundsbnrj.  St.  Ives,  St. 
Albans,  St.  Neots.  In  Switzerland  :  SchafFhausen,  Soleuro^ 
St.  Maurice,  Appenzell,  St.  Gall,  Seckingen,  Glaris,  Lausalnne, 
Lucerne,  and  Zurich. 

A  ti]-esome  enumeration,  certainly;  but  how  is  it  that  these 
men  of  whom  we  speak  were  never  tired  of  founding,  of 
constructing,  of  bui!dnig  up,  of  making  populous  and  fruit- 
ful ?  How  is  it  that  they  have  had  the  gift,  the  art,  and  the 
t'lste  of  creating  and  preserving,  just  as  the  modern  instinct 
has  too  often  that  t)f  destruction?  Ah,  yes  ;  it  is  fatiguing 
to  listen  while  we  narrate  and  celebrate  the  works  of  those 
who  build,  as  it  is  fatiguing  to  listen  to  the  praises  of  virtue. 
Those  who  write  and  those  who  read  the  history  of  our  days, 
need  fear  no  such  lassitude.  But  it  is  necessary  to  bear 
with  it  for  a  little,  if  we  wish  to  have  the  slightest  notion  of 
monastic  institutions. 

And  it  is  not  only  their  incredible  fertility  which  we  must 
admire,  but  also  the  prodigious  duration  of  that  which  they 
have  brought  forth.  Oh,  miracle  of  Christian  greatness  !  it 
is  in  preaching  the  frailty  of  human  things,  the  nothingness 
of  all  human  productions ;  it  is  in  demonstrating  this  by 
their  example,  by  their  retirement,  by  a  steady  sacrifice  of 
rank,  of  iamily,  of  fortune,  and  of  country,  that  they  have 
succeeded  in  creating  monuments  and  societies  the  most 
lasting  which  we  have  seen  upon  the  earth,  and  which  would 
seem  able  to  brave  indefinitely  the  action  of  time,  if  modern 
barbarism  had  not  appeared  to  substitute  itself  in  the  place 
of  time,  as  in  that  of  right  and  justice.  How  many  monas- 
teries have  lasted  seven,  eight,  ten,  sometimes  even  fourteen 
centuries  ;  ^5  that  is  to  say,  as  long  as  the  French  royalty,  and 
twice  as  long  as  the  Roman  republic  ! 

We  admire  the  works  of  the  Romans :  masters  and  tyrants 
of  the  world,  they  used  the  strength  of  a  hundred  different 
nations  to  create  those  (constructions  which  archceologists 
and  the  learned  have  taught  us  to  place  above  all  others. 
But  what  then  must  we  say  of  these  poor  solitaries  ?2^   They 

'•'^  For  example,  Lerins,  Marmoutier,  St.  Claude,  all  three  prior  to  the 
l-"rencli  royalty;  le  INlont-Cast^in,  Luxcuil,  Mlcy,  and  many  others  that  will 
aii()ear  successively  in  our  recital. 

^  "Tliose  long  and  costly  works,"  rays  tlie  father  of  Mirabeau,  '-which 
are  a  sort  of  anibiiioii  and  joy  to  bodies  winch  regard  themselves  as  per- 
petual, always  slow  to  .".lienate,  alwi^ys  .'^^trong  to  preserve,  are  beyond  the 
uowers   of  private  individuals.      It   is    the  same   with  the  buildings.     The 


INTRODUCTION.  37 

nave  tnken  nothing  from  any  one  ;  but,  without  arms  and 
without  treasure,  with  the  sole  resource  of  spontaneou.s 
gifts,  and  thanks  to  the  sweat  of  their  own  brow,  they  have 
covered  the  world  Avith  gigantic  edifices,  which  are  left 
to  the  pickaxe  of  civilized  Vandals.  They  have  achieved 
these  works  in  the  desert,  without  roads,  without  canals, 
without  machinery,  without  any  of  the  powerful  instruments 
of  modern  industry,  but  with  an  inexhaustible  patience  and 
constancy,  and  at  the  same  time  with  a  taste  and  discern- 
ment of  the  conditions  of  art,  which  all  the  academies  might 
envy  them.  We  say  more — there  is  no  society  in  the  world 
which  might  not  go  to  their  school,  to  learn  at  the  same  time 
the  laws  of  beauty  and  those  of  duration. 


CHAPTER   V. 

HAPPINESS   IN   THE    CLOISTER. 

Cio  ch'  io  vodeva  mi  sembrava  un  riso 
Deir  uiiiverso  .  .  . 

O  gioia  !  o  ineffabile  allegrezza  ! 
O  vita  intera  cl'  amoro  c  cli  pace  ! 
O  senza  brama  sicura  ricliezza  ! 
,  Luce  intellettiial  piena  d'amore. 

Amor  di  vero  ben  pien  di  letizia, 
Letizia  che  traseende  ofrni  dolzore. 

Dante.  I'arcul.,  c.  27-30. 

What  lasted  most  amidst  the  monks  was  not  only  their 
monuments  and  works,  material  and  external  :  it  was  the  in- 
terior edifice,  the  moral  work,  and,  above  all,  the  happiness 
which  they  enjoyed  —  that  pure  and  profound  happiness 
which  reigned  in  them  and  around  them.^ 

Yes,  even  in  the  bosom  of  that  life  which  they  despised, 

same  solidity,  the  same  perfection.  One  of  the  churches  of  our  abbey  is 
known  in  our  liistory  by  a  famous  episode,  for  700  years;  it  is  absolutely  in 
the  same  state  as  it  was  then.  Where  are  the  private  buildings  erected  at 
that  time  of  which  a  stone  is  standing  now?"  —  L' Ami  des  Ilomrnes,  1758, 
torn.  i.  p.  25. 

'  ]  know  no  writer  who  has  better  comprehended  and  shown  the  happi- 
ness of  monastic  life,  such  as  it  is  described  and  authenticated  by  ancient 
authors,  than  Mr.  Kenelm  Digby,  in  the  tenth  volume  of  the  curious  and  in- 
structive collection,  entitled  Mores  Catholici,  London,  1840.  It  has  served 
to  guide  me  in  this  attractive  study,  and  has  afforded  me  a  pleasure  which  I 
would  wish  to  share  with  all  my  readers  by  referring  them  to  this  valuable 
work. 

VOL.  L  4 


38  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

and  which  they  had  offered  as  a  sacrifice  to  God,  God  by  a 
permanent  miracle  of  His  mercy  has  caused  them  always  to 
find  a  joy  and  felicity  unknown  to  other  men.  Yes,  happi- 
ness, that  rare  and  much  desired  e:ift,  reigned  without  rival 
in  those  monasteries  which  were  faithful  to  the  rule  of  their 
ibunders,  to  the  law  of  their  existence.  This  is  evident 
even  in  the  charming  names  which  the  monks  gave  to  the 
places  of  their  retirement  and  penance  —  Bon-Lieu,^  Beau- 
Lieu,s  Clair-Lieu,*  Joyeux-Lieu,^  Cher-Lieu,^  Chere-Ile," 
VauJx-la-Douce,^  Les  Delices,^  Bon-Port.^^  Bon-Bepos/^  Bonne- 
I\Iont,i2  Val-Sainte,i3  Val-Benoite,i4  Val-rle-Paix,i5  Val-d'Esper- 
ance,i6  Val-Bonne,i"  Val-Sauve,i8  Nid-d'0iseau,i9  Font-Douce,20 
the  Voie-du-Ciel,2i  the  Porte-du-Ciel.22  the  Couronne-du-Ciel,23 
the  Joug-Dieu  24  the  Part-Dieu,25  the  Paix-Dieu,26  the  Clart^.- 
Dieu,2'  the  Science-de-Dieu,-^  the  Champ-de-Dieu,-'  the  Lieu- 
de-Dieu,30  the  Port-Suave,3i  the  Prd-Heureux,32  the  Pr6-Bdnit,33 

^  Good  Place,  of  the  order  of  Citeaux,  in  Limousin,  and  several  others  of 
the  same  name. 

^  Beautiful  Place,  Abbey  of  the  Benedictines  in  Lorraine;  of  Citeaux,  in 
England,  in  Rouergne,  and  elsewhei-e. 

''  Briglit  Pliice,  Cistercians,  in  Lorraine. 

*  Joyous  Place,  Netley,  the  Lcoio  Loco,  in  England. 

*  Dear  Place,  Cistercians,  in  Eranche-Comte. 
''  Dear  Island,  Cara  Insula,  in  Norway. 

*  Sweet  Vale,  Cistercians,  in  Champagne. 

9  The  Delights,  Las  JIuelgas,  near  Burgos,  ip  Castile. 

'"  Good  Haven,  Cistercians,  in  Normandy. 

*'  Good  Rest,  Cistercians,  in  Brittany. 

'^  Good  Mountain,  Cistercians,  near  Geneva. 

'■*  Holy  Valle}'.  Carthusian,  in  Switzerland. 

'''  Blessed  Valley,  order  of  Citeaux,  in  the  Lyonnais. 

'*  Valley  of  Peace,  Cartliusian,  in  Switzerland. 

'*  Valley  of  Hope,  Carthusian,  in  Burr^undy. 

"  Good  Valley,  Carthusian,  in  Languedoe;  order  of  Citeaux,  in  Boussil' 
Ion.     Tliere  was  besides  a  multitude  of  Good  Vales  and  Good  Valleys. 

'®  Valley  of  Salvation,  Citeaux,  in  Languedoe. 

"*  Bird's  Nest,  Benedictines,  in  Anjou. 

''*'  Sweet  Fountain,  Benedictines,  in  Saintonge. 

*'  The  Way  of  Heaven,  Carthusian,  in  the  kingdom  of  Murcia. 

^*  The  Gate  of  Heaven,  Carthusian,  in  the  kingdom  of  Valencia. 

*^  The  Crown  of  Heaven,  Ilimmdskrone,  in  Germany. 

^*  God's  Yoke,  Benedictines,  in  Beaujolais. 

**  The  Portion  of  God,  Carthusian,  in  Switzerland. 

^*  The  Peace  of  God,  order  of  Citeaux.  in  the  neighborhood  of  Liege. 

^"^  The  Brightness  of  God,  Citeaux,  in  Tourraine. 

'^  The  Knowledge  of  God,  Benedictines,  in  Lorraine,  Theolegium. 

*^  The  Field  of  God,  Ciiltura  Dei,  Benedictines  of  Maisa. 

^^  Tiie  Place  of  God,  Dilo  for  j)ei  Locus,  Premontres,  near  Joigny ;  Loc 
Dieu,  Cistercians,  in  Rouergue  and  clsewliere. 

^'  The  Haven  of  Salvation,  Porhis-Suavis,  corrupted  to  Poursas  and 
Poussay,  a  noble  chapter-house  in  Lorraine. 

*-  Tlie  Happy  Meadow,  Felix  Pre,  near  Givet. 

^'  The  Blessed  Meadow,  Cistercians,  in  La  Marche. 


INTRODUCTION.  39 

the  Sylve-Bcnit,34  the  Eeglo,^^  the  Reposoir,^^  the  Reconfort/' 
L'Abonclance.^*'  La  Joie.-'^'^ 

And  this  joy,  so  lasting  and  so  lively,  reigned  in  their 
hearts  with  all  the  greater  warmth,  in  proportion  to  tlie  auster- 
ity of  their  rule  and  the  fidelity  and  completeness  with  which 
they  observed  it.**^  Their  testimony  is  so  unanimous  in  this 
respect  that  we  are  obliged  either  to  believe  it,  or  to  believe 
that  all  which  is  holiest  and  most  pure  in  the  Church  has, 
during  successive  centuries,  directed  the  publication  of  a  lie 
to  humanity  —  a  supposition  so  much  the  more  absurd  that 
monastic  historians  have  never  shunned  the  sad  duty  of 
recoiding  the  disorders  and  sufferings  produced  by  any  re- 
laxation or  contempt  of  their  primitive  constitution. 

Tlie  indisputable  evidence  of  this  happiness  shines  from 
every  page  of  the  writings  left  to  us  by  the  monastic  fathers, 
doctors,  and  historians.  The}'  passionately  loved  those  mon- 
asteries which  we  consider  prisons,  and  the  life  which  they 
led  in  them. 

*'  Toto  corde  iiieo  te,  Centula  mater,  amavi."'*' 

Tt  is  with  this  exclamation  of  love  that  the  beautiful  and 
curious  chronicle  of  the  great  Abbey  of  St.  Riquier,  in 
Ponthieu,  is  concluded ;  and  five  centuries  later  the  Abbot 
Trithemius,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  historians  of  the 
Benedictines,  made  a  similar  exclamation  on  completing  the 
first  half  of  his  celebrated  annals  of  the  beloved  abbey 
where  he  had  been  trained :  '*  Me  sola  Hirsaugia  gaudet.^ 

^*  The  Blessed  Wood,  Carthusian,  in  Dauphiny. 

^^  The  Rule,  Regida,  the  Reole,  Benedictines,  in  Aquitaine. 

^*  The  Resting-place.  Carthusian,  in  Savoy. 

•*'  Cons^oiation,  Cistercian,  in  Nivernais. 

"^  Abundance,  Benedictine,  in  Savoy. 

''  Joy.  Two  abbeys  bear  this  name,  one  in  Champagne,  the  other  in 
Brittany. 

■'"  Tliis  phenomenon,  which  has  never  failed  to  reappear  at  the  origin  of 
all  religious  orders,  and  to  last  as  long  as  they  have  maintained  their  primi- 
tive fervor,  presents  itself  anew  amidst  the  difficulties  of  our  modern  life. 
The  houses  of  La  Trappe  overflow  with  novices.  On  the  contrary,  during 
last  century,  the  numerous  abbeys  where  the  Commende  had  destroyed  all 
regular  discipline,  and  in  whicii  life  was  almost  as  easy  as  in  the  world,  know 
not  where  to  turn  for  recruits. 

*'  Hakiulfi  Chron.  Centul.,  concluded  in  1088,  ap.  Dachekt,  Spicilcg., 
V.  ii,  p.  356. 

*2  r.  616  of  the  edition  of  St.  Gall,  1690,  in  folio.  —  He  says  again  in  the 
dedication  of  his  work,  "  Nimia  dilectione  Hirsaugensium  devictus  laborem 
hunc  magnum  libens  suscepi;  "  and  at  the  end  of  the  second  part,  "  Quanto 
Hirsaugianos  amore  diligam  omnes,  saltern  laboribus  meis  communlcatis  ad 
loci  honorem  ostendam,"  t.  ii.  p.  692. 


40  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

The  echo  of  that  joy  is  prolonged  from  century  to  century. 
The  austere  St.  Peter  Damien  calls  Cluny  a  "  garden  of  da. 
lights. ^^ '^'^  ^  St.  Bernard,  the  father  of  a  hundred  and  sixty 
monasteries,  which  he  had  filled  with  the  flower  of  his  con- 
temporaries,  was  never  weary  of  repeating  "  Good  Lord  ! 
what  happiness  Thou  procurest  for  Thy  poor  ! "  ^  And 
Pierre  de  Blois,  in  leaving  the  Abbey  of  Croyland  to  return 
into  his  own  country,  stopped  seven  times  to  look  back  and 
contemplate  again  the  place  where  he  had  been  so  happy .^^ 

They  loved  these  dear  retreats  so  much  that  they  re- 
proached themselves  for  it,  as  we  might  reproach  ourselves 
for  loving  too  much  the  world  and  its  fascinations ;  and  when 
it  was  necessary  to  leave  them,  were*  obliged  to  recall  to 
themselves  their  inviolable  laws  of  Christian  sclfdenial. 
"  Oh,  my  cell ! "  said  Alcuin,  at  the  moment  of  leaving  his 
cloister  for  the  Court  of  Charlemagne,  ''  sweet  and  well- 
beloved  home,  adieu  for  ever !  I  shall  see  no  more  the 
woods  which  surround  thee  with  their  interlacing  branches 
and  flowery  verdure,  nor  thy  fields  full  of  wholesome  and 
aromatic  herbs,  nor  thy  streams  offish,  nor  thy  orchards,  nor 
thy  gardens  where  the  lily  mingles  with  the'  rose.  I  shall 
hear  no  more  these  birds  who,  like  ourselves,  sing  matins  and 
celebrate  their  Creator,  in  their  fashion  —  nor  those  instruc- 
tions of  sweet  and  holy  wisdom  which  sound  in  the  same 
breath  as  the  praises  of  the  Most  High,  from  lips  and  hearts 
always  peaceful.  Dear  cell !  I  shall  weep  thee  and  regret 
thee  always ;  but  it  is  thus  that  everything  changes  and 
passes  away,  that  night  succeeds  to  day,  winter  to  summer, 
storm  to  calm,  weary  age  to  ardent  youth.  And  we,  unhap})y 
that  we  are!  why  do  we  love  this  fugitive  world?  It  is 
Thou,  0  Christ !  that  puttest  it  to  flight,  that  we  may  love 
Thee  only  ;  it  is  Thy  love  which  alone  should  till  our  hearts 
—  Thee,  our  glory,  our  life,  our  salvation  !  "  *^ 

The  happiness  of  the  monks  was  natural,  lasting,  and  pro- 
found.    They  found  it,  in  the  first  place,  in  their  work,  in 

*^  "  Hortus  deliciarura." 

^  "  Deus  bone  !  quanta  pauperibus  procuras  solatia!  " 
*'  Petr.   Blesensis    Contin.,    Ing.    Croyland,    ap.    Gale,    Rer.    Angt., 
Script.,  V.  i. 

*^  "  O  mea  cella,  mihi  habitatio  dulcis  amata, 
Semper  in  £eternuni,  0  mea  cella  vale !  .  .  . 
Onine  genus  volucruin  matutinas  personal  odas, 
Atque  Creatorem  laudat  in  ore  Deum."  .  .  . 

Alcoini  Opera,  v.  ii.  p.  456,  edit.  Froeben. 


INTRODUCTION.  41 

regular  labor,  sustained  and  sanctified  by  prayer;*"  then  in 
all  the  details  of  a  life  so  logical,  so  serene,  and  so  free  — ■ 
free  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word.  They  found  it,  above 
all,  in  their  enviable  indifference  to  the  necessities  of  domes- 
tic and  material  life,  from  which  they  were  delivered,  partly 
by  the  simplicity  and  poverty  of  their  condition,  and  partly 
by  the  internal  organization  of  the  community,  where  all 
such  solicitudes  rested  upon  an  individual,  upon  the  abbot, 
who,  assisted  by  the  cellarer,  undertook  that  charge  for  the 
love  of  God  and  the  peace  of  his  brethren. 

Thus,  in  the  midst  of  tranquil  labor  and  a  sweet  unifor- 
mity, their  life  was  prolonged  and  wrought  out.  But  it  was 
prolonged  without  being  saddened.  The  longevity  of  the 
monks  has  always  been  remarkable.  They  knew  the  art  of 
consoling  and  sanctifying  old  age,  which,  in  the  world  —  but 
especially  in  modern  society,  where  a  devouring  activity, 
wholly  material,  seems  to  have  become  the  first  condition  of 
happiness  —  is  always  so  sad.  In  the  cloister  we  see  it  not 
only  cherished,  honored,  and  listened  to  by  younger  men, 
but  even  so  to  speak,  abolished  and  replaced  by  that  youth 
of  the  heart  which  there  preserved  its  existence  through  all 
the  snows  of  age,  as  the  prelude  of  the  eternal  youth  of  the 
life  above. 

They  were,  besides,  profoundly  impressed  by  the  beauty 
of  nature  and  the  external  world.  They  admired  it  as  a 
temple  of  the  goodness  and  light  of  God,  as  a  reflection  of 
Ilis  beauty.  They  have  left  us  a  proof  of  this,  first  in  their 
choice  of  situation  for  the  greater  number  of  their  monaste- 
ries, which  are  so  remarkable  for  the  singular  suitableness 
and  loveliness  of  their  site  ;  and  also  in  the  descriptions  they 
have  left  of  these  favorite  spots.  We  read  the  pictures 
drawn  by  St.  Bruno  in  speaking  of  his  Charterhouse  of 
Calabria, *s  or  by  the  anonj^mous  monk  who  has  described 
Clairvaux,  ^^  and  we  are  impressed  with  the  same  delicate 

*'  "  Martyris  Albani,  sit  tibi  tuta  quies ! 

Hie  locus  aetatis  nostrse  primordia  novit, 
Annos  feliees,  laetitiffique  dies  !   .  .  . 
Militat  hie  Ciirijto,  noctuquc  diuque  labori 
Indulget  sancto  religiosa  coliors." 
—  Lines  of  Neckham,  Abbot  of  Cirencester  in   1217,  upon  the  abbey  of  St. 
Alban,  ap.  Digby,  x.  545. 

^'  In  his  letter  to  Raoul  le  Verd,  Archbishop  of  Eheims,  ap.  Mabillok, 
Ann.  Bened.,  t.  v.,  1.  G8,  ad  Jinem. 

*^  0pp.  S.  Bernardi,  t.  ii.  —  We  should  also  refer  to  the  beautiful  ob- 
servations on  nature,  animate  and  inanimate,  of  Frowin,  Abbot  of  Engelberg, 
in  the  thirteenth  century,  in  his  Explication  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  ap.  Piatt* 

4* 


12  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

and  profound  appreciation  of  rural  nature  which  has  dictated 
to  Virgil  and  Dante  so  many  immortal  verses.  Like  the 
feudal  nobles,  and  indeed  before  them,  the  monks  possessed 
that  taste  for  the  picturesque — for  nature  in  her  wild, 
abrupt,  and  varied  aspects  —  which  prevailed  in  the  middle 
ages,  and  which  we  find,  like  the  apparition  of  an  ideal  desire, 
in  the  landscapes  of  Hemling  and  Van  Eyck,  although  these 
great  painters  lived  only  in  the  monotonous  plains  of  Flan- 
ders. That  taste  disappeared  later,  with  many  other  forms 
of  the  good  and  beautiful.  The  successors  of  the  old  monks, 
like  those  of  the  knights,  abandoned  as  soon  as  they  could 
the  forests  and  mountains  for  the  prosaic  uniformity  of  towns 
and  plains.  ^^  But  the  Religious  of  the  early  ages  discovered 
and  enjoyed  all  the  poetry  of  nature. 

And  if  inanimate  nature  was  to  them  an  abundant  source 
of  pleasure,  they  had  a  delight  still  more  lively  and  elevated 
in  the  life  of  the  heart,  in  the  double  love  which  burned  in 
them  —  the  love  of  their  brethren  inspired  and  consecrated 
by  the  love  of  God,  The  same  monastic  pens  which  have 
written  treatises  upon  the  beauty  of  the  earth,^^  have  written 
others  still  more  eloquent  upon  Christian  Friendship.^^  Love, 
these  writers  say,  derives  its  life  from  knowledge  and 
memory,  which,  in  turn,  take  from  it  their  charm.^^  But 
their  example  is  better  upon  this  point  than  the  most  elo- 
quent of  essays.  What  a  charming  book  might  be  written 
on  friendship  in  a  cloister  1  What  endearing  traits,  what 
delightful  words  might  be  collected  from  the  time  of  that 
Spanish  Abbot  of  the  eighth  century,  who  said,  ^'  I  have  left 
but  one  brother  in  the  world,  and  how  many  brothers  have  I 
not  found  in  the  cloister  !  "  ^  —  down  to  those  two  nuns  of 
the  order  of  Fontevrault,  one  of  whom  having  died  before 
the  other,  appeared  in  a  dream  to  her  companion,  and  pre- 
dicted her  death,  saying  to  her,  "  Understand,  my  love,  that 

ner,  Schweizer  Blatter  fur  Wisscnschaft  und  Kimst.,  Scliwyz.,  1859,  t.  i. 
p.  52. 

*"  In  the  Voyage  Litteraire  de  Devx  Benedictins,  written  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  learned  travellers  designate  constant)}'  by 
the  title  of  site  affreux  the  sites  of  the  ancient  monasteries  which  they  went 
to  visit. 

*'  De  Vemistate  Mundi,  by  Dents  le  Charteedx. 

**  De  Ainicitia  Christiana  it  De  Cha')itate  Dti  et  Proximi,  tractatus  du- 
plex, by  Pierre  de  Blois.     Edit,  in  lol.  de  1G67,  p.  497. 

"  "  Ut  amor  ex  scientia  et  niemoria  convalescat,  et  ilia  duo  in  amore  dul- 
cescant."  —  Petr.  Bles.  Tract.,  i.  cxi. 

*■*  "  Unum  fratrem  dimisimus  in  saeculo  :  ccce  quantos  invenimus  in  moil' 
asterio." —  Contr.  Elipandum,  1.  ii.,  ap.  Bulteau,  ii.  2U5. 


INTRODUCTION.  43 

I  am  already  in  great  peace  ;  but  I  know  not  how  to  enter 
paradise  without  thee  ;  prepare  then  and  come  at  thy  quick- 
est, that  we  may  present  ourselves  together  before  the 
Lord."  55 

And  how  indeed  can  we  wonder  at  the  development  given 
in  the  cloister  to  these  sweet  emotions  of  virtuous  souls  ? 
The  Religious  require  and  have  a  right  to  seek  in  these 
mutual  sympathies  a  preservation  against  the  hardships  and 
disgusts  of  their  condition,  an  aliment  for  the  dreams  and 
ardor  of  their  youth.  In  seeking  under  the  robe  of  their 
brethren,  for  tender,  disinterested,  and  faithful  heart*?,  they 
obeyed  at  once  the  instructions  of  the  divine  law  and  the 
example  of  the  God-man.  The  holy  Scriptures,  on  which 
they  meditated  every  day  in  the  psalms  and  lessons  they 
chanted  in  their  choral  liturgy,  presented  to  them  immortal 
examples  of  the  affection  which  might  exist  among  the  elect. 
In  the  Gospels,  and,  above  all,  in  that  one,  the  author  of 
which  has  not  feared  to  call  himself  "  the  disciple  whom 
Jesus  loved,"  they  saw  the  radiance  of  that  tender  and  pro- 
found friendship  which  the  Saviour  of  all  men  vouchsafed, 
during  His  short  life  here  below,  to  some  predestined  souls. 
In  the  Old  Testament  they  found  its  type  in  the  delightful 
history  of  that  Jonathan  who  loved  David  as  his  soul  —  of 
that  David  who  loved  Jonathan  more  than  a  mother  can  love 
or  a  woman  be  loved ;  in  the  vows,  and  tears,  and  kisses 
which  sealed  the  union  of  the  king's  son  with  the  son  of  the 
shepherd.^  Everything  invited  and  encouraged  them  to 
choose  one  or  several  souls  as  the  intimate  companions  of 
their  life,  and  to  consecrate  that  choice  by  an  affection  free 
as  their  vocation,  pure  as  their  profession,  tender  and  gener- 
ous as  their  youth.  Thus  initiated  in  the  stainless  pleasure 
of  a  union  of  hearts,  they  could  again,  with  the  sage,  recog- 
nize, in  the  fidelity  of  these  voluntary  ties,  "  a  medicine  for 
life  and  for  immortality."  ^'^ 

But  where  shall  we  find  among  ourselves  a  pen  sufficiently 

"  "  Notum  tibi  facio,  dilecta.  .  .  .  Prepara  ergo  te  et  A'eni  quantocius  ut 
siraul  Domino  praesentenmr."  —  Herberti  De  Miraculis,  I.  ii.  c.  43,  apud 
Chifflet,  Genus  Illustre  S.  Bernardi. 

*®  "  The  soul  of  Jonathan  was  knit  with  the  soul  of  David,  and  Jonathan 
loved  him  as  his  own  soul."  "  And  they  kissed  one  another,  and  wept  one 
with  another,  until  David  exceeded."  "  We  have  sworn  both  of  us  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord."  "  I  am  distressed  for  thee,  my  brother  Jonathan  :  very 
pleasant  hast  thou  been  to  me:  thy  love  to  me  was  wonderful,  passing  the 
love  of  women." 

"  "  Amicus  fidelis  medicamentum  vitae  et  immortalitatis."  ~  Ecdie. 
vi.  m. 


44  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

pure  and  delicate  to  record  these  annals  of  real  love  ?  The 
most  charming  poet  of  our  generation,  thoug-h  oy  his  own  er- 
rors the  most  unhappy,  seems  to  have  caught  a  glimpse  of  it, 
when,  out  of  the  midst  of  strains  so  strangely  and  danger- 
ously beautiful,  he  permitted  to  escape  him  such  lines  as  the 
following,  a  singular  testimony  to  the  high  and  generous  in- 
spirations whicli  he  knew  too  well  how  to  interpret,  and  too 
oiten  how  to  stifle  :  — 

"Monastic  arches,  silent  cloisters,  lone 
And  sombre  cells,  ye  know  what  loving  is. 
These  are  your  ciiill  cold  naves,  your  pavements,  stones 
Which  burning  lips  faint  over  when  they  kiss. 

With  your  baptismal  waters  bathe  tlieir  face : 

Tell  them  a  moment  how  their  knees  must  wear 

The  cold  sepulchral  stones  before  the  grace, 

Of  loving  as  you  loved,  they  liope  to  share. 

Vast  was  the  love  which  from  your  clialices, 

Mysterious  monks  !  with  a  lull  heart  ye  drew  : 

Ye  loved  with  ardent  souls  !  oh,  happy  lot  for  you  !  "  **• 

Should  we  not  say  that  the  hand  which  has  traced  these 
lines  had  been  turning  over  the  pages  of  that  immortal  code 
of  divine  love  written  by  St.  Bernard  in  his  discourse  upon 
the  Song  of  Songs,  where  he  speaks  with  such  passionate 
earnestness  that  universal  language  of  love,  "  which  is  un- 
derstood only  by  those  who  love  ;  "  ^^  where  he  celebrates  the 
nuptials  of  the  soul  with  God,  and  depicts  in  lines  of  light 
that  bride  who  loves  only  for  the  sake  of  loving  and  being 
loved,  who  finds  in  love  alone  all  that  she  seeks,  all  that  she 
desires,  all  that  she  hopes,  who  no  longer  fears  anything,  nor 
doubts  the  love  which  she  inspires  any  more  than  that  which 
she  feels  ?^^  Human  tenderness,  however  eloquent,  has  never 
inspired  accents  more  passionate  or  profound.  And  to  prove 
how  little  the  divine  love,  thus  understood  and  practised, 
tends  to  exclude  or  chill  the  love  of  man  for  man,  never  was 
human  eloquence  more  touching  or  more  sincere,  than  in  that 
immortal  elegy  by  which  Bernard  suddenly  interrupts  the 
course  of  his  sermons  upon  the  Canticles  of  Solomon,  to  la- 

**  Alfred  de  Musset,  Rolla. 

**  "Amor  ubique  loquitur;  et  si  quis  horum  quae  Icguntur  cupit  adipisci 
notitiam,  amet.  .  .  .  Lingua  amoris  ei  qui  non  aniat,  barbara  eric."  —  Serm. 
79  in  Cantic. 

*"  "  Quae  amat,  amat,  et  aliud  novit  nihil.  .  .  .  Ipse  (amor)  meritum,  ipse 
praemium  est  sibi.  .  .  .  Fructus  ejus,  usus  ejus.     Amo,  quia  amo :  amo  ut 
amem.     Sponsse  res  et  spes  unus  est  amor." — Sermo  SZ-     "Nihil  dilecta 
tiniendum.     Paveant  quae  non  aniant.  .  .  .  Ego  vero  amans,  amari  me  dubi 
tare  non  possum,  non  plus  quam  aaiare."  —  Sermo  84. 


INTRODUCTION.  45 

ir.ent  a  lost  brother  snatched  by  death  from  the  cloister, 
where  thc}'^  had  lived  in  so  much  harmony  and  happiness. 
We  all  know  that  famous  apostrophe  —  "  Flow,  flow,  my  tears, 
so  eager  to  flow!  —  he  who  prevented  your  flowing  is  here 
no  more  !  ...  It  is  not  he  who  is  dead,  it  is  I  who  now 
live  only  to  die.  Why,  oh  why  have  we  loved,  and  why  have 
M-e  lost  each  other  ?"^i  It  is  thus  that  natural  tenderness 
ami  legitimate  affections  vindicate  their  rights  in  the  hearts 
of  the  saints,  and  penetrate  there  by  means  of  that  which 
Bernard  himself  calls  the  broad  and  sweet  wound  of  love.  "^^ 
Thus  this  great  disciple  of  Jesus  loved  and  wept  for  him 
whom  he  loved,  even  here  below,  as  Jesus  loved  and  wept  in 
Lazarus  a  mortal  friend.     "  Behold  how  He  loved  him  !  "  ^^ 

Without  alwaj^s  exalting  itself  so  high,  the  mutual  affec- 
tion which  reigned  among  the  monks  flowed  as  a  mighty 
stream  through  the  annals  of  the  cloister.  It  has  left  its 
trace  even  in  the  formulas,  collected  with  care  by  modern 
erudition,  and  which,  deposited  in  the  archives  of  the  diff"er- 
ent  monasteries,  served  as  models  of  the  familiar  epistles  ex- 
clianged  between  communities,  superiors,  and  even  simple 
monks.  We  find  here  and  there,  in  the  superscription  of 
these  letters  as  well  as  in  their  text,  those  nupulses  of  the 
heart  which  charm  and  refresh  the  patient  investigator  of  the 
past.  ''■  To  such  an  one,  his  humble  fellow-countryman,  who 
would  embrace  him  with  the  wings  of  a  sincere  and  indis- 
soluble charity,  sends  salutations  in  the  sweetness  of  true 
love."^^  And  again  —  "I  adjure  you,  by  your  gentleness, 
visit  us  often  by  letters  and  messages,  that  the  long  distance 
which  separates  us  may  not  triumph  over  those  who  are  uni- 
ted by  the  love  of  Christ."  *'  To  the  faithful  friend,"  says 
another  of  these  forgotten  rubrics,  the  barbarous  Latin  of 
which  has  doubtless  served  more  than  one  loving  and  delicate 
soul.  "  Let  us  aspire,  dearest  brother,  to  be  satisfied  by  the 
fruits  of  wisdom,  and  bedewed  by  the  waters  of  the  divine 
fountain,  that  the  same  and  sole  paradise  may  receive  us,  and 

*■'  "  Exite,  exite,  lacrynite  jampridem  cupientes  :  exite  quia  is  qui  vobis 
meaium  obstringerit,  commeavit.  .  .  .  Vivo  ut  vivens  nioriar,  et  hoc  dixerim 
vitam  !  .  .  .  Cur,  quaeso,  aut  aniavimus.  aut  aniisimus  ;ios?" — Sermo  26. 
iSfe  also  tlie  admirable  discourse  of  bt.  Bernard  on  the  death  of  his  friend 
Iiiunl)ert,  a  monk  of  Clairvaux,  t.  i.  p.  1066,  ed.  Mabillou. 

"^  '•  Grande  et  suave  vulnus  amoris." 

"^  John  xi.  36. 

"■'  '•  lndis^olubili  vinculo  individuse  sincerrimagque  caritatis  alis  aniplec- 
'.cndo  illi,  ille  humilis  terrigcna  in  dulcedine  vere  caritatis  salutem."  — 
Furmi'lcs  InedUes,  published  from  two  MSS.  of  Munich  and  Copenhagen,  bj 
iiuu.  CE  KoziERE,  1859,  No.  68.  —  Cfr.  Nos.  34  and  71. 


46  THE   MONKS    OF   THE   WEST. 

Open  to  our  enjoj^ment  the  freedom  of  the  celestial  kingdom. 
...  If  thou  wilt,  it  shall  be  well  for  us  to  be  divided  by 
vast  territories,  and  withdrawn  from  each  other  under  differ- 
ent skies —  our  tribulations  are  the  same,  and  our  prayers 
shall  strengthen  us  by  the  union  of  our  souls."  Sometimes 
verse,  faintly  outlined,  is  mingled  with  the  prose,  to  repeat 
:he  perpetual  burden  of  all  that  correspondence.  ''Remem- 
ber me  —  I  always  remember  you  ;  I  owe  to  you,  and  I  give 
you,  all  the  love  that  is  in  my  heart."  ^^ 

Bat  with  how  much  greater  force  than  in  these  anonymous 
formulas,  with  what  constancy  and  impetuosity  does  that  in- 
exhaustible tenderness  overflow  in  tlie  authentic  letters  of 
the  great  monks,  the  collections  of  which  certainly  form  one 
of  the  most  precious  monuments  for  the  study  of  the  past,  as 
well  as  for  that  of  the  human  heart.  The  more  celebrated 
and  powerful  they  are,  the  holier  are  they  and  the  more  they 
love.  The  correspondence  of  the  most  illustrious,  of  Geof- 
frey de  Vendome,  of  Pierre  le  Venerable,  and  of  St.  Bernard, 
give  incontestable  proofs  of  this  at  every  page,  and  the 
pleasure  of  our  researches  will  be  proportioned  to  the  fre-- 
quency  with  which  we  encounter  them  upon  our  road. 

But  even  at  the  present  moment  we  may  appropriately 
quote  certain  lines  which  portray  the  heart  of  St.  Anselm, 
who  lived,  loved,  and  was  happy  for  sixty  years  in  his  Nor- 
man Abbey  of  Bee,  before  he  was  condemned  to  the  glorious 
contests  of  his  episcopate.  "  Souls,  well  beloved  of  ray 
soul,"' he  wrote  to  two  of  his  near  relatives  whom  he  wished 
to  draw  to  Bee,  "  my  eyes  ardently  desire  to  behold  you; 
my  arms  expand  to  embrace  you ;  my  lips  sigh  for  your 
kisses ;  all  the  life  that  remains  to  me  is  consumed  with  wait- 
ing for  you.  1  hope  in  praying,  and  I  pray  in  hoping  —  come 
and  taste  how  gracious  the  Lord  is  —  you  cannot  fully  know 
it  while  you  hnd  sweetness  in  the  \yorld.  I  would  not  de- 
ceive you ;  first,  because  1  love  you,  and  further,  because  1 
have  experience  of  what  I  say.  Let  us  be  monks  together, 
that  now  and  always  we  may  be  but  one  flesh,  one  blood,  and 
one  soul.     My  soul  is  welded  to  your  souls;  you  can  rend  it, 

**  "  Non  sejungant  longa  terrarum  spacia,  quos  Christi  nectit  amor.  .  .  . 
Age  jam,  o  meus  carissime  frater,  .  .  .  ut  in  regni  celestis  libertate  .  .  . 
gaudere  valeamus.  ...  Si  vis,  terrarum  spatio  divisi  sumus  atque  seques- 
*ramur  intervallo  et  celi  inequali  climate  dirimemus,  pari  tamen  tribulationum 
depremimur  (sic)  face. 

Esto  raei  memores,  sum  vestri :  debeo  vobis 

Et  voveo  totum  quicquid  amore." 
—  E.  De  Roziere,  Formules  de  S.  Gall.,  Nos.  39,  41,  58. 


INTRODUCTION.  47 

but  not  separate  it  from  you  —  neither  can  you  draw  it  into 
the  world.  You  must  needs  then  live  with  it  here,  or  break 
it ;  but  God  preserve  you  from  doing  so  much  harm  to  a  poor 
soul  which  has  never  harmed  you,  and  which  loves  you.  Oh, 
how  my  love  consumes  me  !  how  it  compels  me  to  burst  forth 
into  words!  —  but  no  word  satisfies  it.  How  many  things 
would  it  write  !  but  neither  the  paper  nor  the  time  are  suf- 
ficient. Speak  Thou  to  them,  oli  good  Jesus !  Speak  to 
tlicir  hearts,  Thou  who  alone  canst  make  them  understand. 
Ijid  them  leave  all  and  fullow  Thee.  Separate  me  not  from 
those  to  whom  Thou  has  linked  me  by  all  the  ties  of  blood 
and  of  the  heart.  Be  my  witness.  Lord,  Thou  and  those 
tears  v^hich  flow  while  I  write  !  "  '^'^ 

The  same  earnestness  is  evident  in  his  letters  to  the  friends 
whom  lie  had  acquired  in  the  cloister,  and  from  whom  a  tem- 
porary absence  separated  him.  He  writes  to  the  young  Lan- 
franc  — "  '  Far  from  the  eyes,  far  from  the  heart,'  say  the  vul- 
gar. Believe  nothing  of  it;  if  it  was  so,  the  farther  you 
were  distant  from  me,  the  cooler  my  love  for  you  would  be ; 
whilst,  on  the  contrary,  the  less  1  can  enjoy  your  presence, 
the  more  the  desire  of  that  pleasure  burns  in  the  soul  of  your 
friend."  ^^  Gondulph,  destined  like  himself  to  serve  the 
Church  in  the  midst  of  storms,  was  his  most  intimate  IVieud. 
"To  Gondulph,  Anselm,"  he  wrote  to  him:  "  I  put  no  other 
or  longer  salutations  at  the  head  of  my  letter,  because  1  can 
say  nothing  more  to  him  whom  1  love.  All  who  know  Gon- 
dulph and  Anselm  know  well  what  this  means,  and  how  much 
love  is  understood  in  these  two  names."  And  again  :  ''  Huw 
could  I  forget  thee  ?  Can  a  man  forget  one  who  is  placed 
like  a  seal  upon  his  heart?  In  thy  silence  I  know  that  thou 
lovest  me ;  and  thou  also,  when  1  say  nothing,  thou  knowest 
that  I  love  thee.  Not  only  have  I  no  doubt  of  thee,  but  1 
answer  for  thee  that  thou  art  sure  of  me.  What  can  my  let- 
ter tell  thee  that  thou  knowest  not  already,  thou  who  art  my 
second  soul  ?  Go  into  the  secret  place  of  thy  heart,  look 
there  at  thy  love  for  me,  and  thou  shalt  see  mine  for  thee.""^^ 

*•  "  Animse  dilectissimae  animae  mese  .  .  .  concupiscunt  oculi  mei  vultud 
vestros,  extendunt  se  bracliia  niea  ad  amplexus  vestros;  anhelat  ad  oscula 
vestra  os  meuiii.  .  .  .  Die  tu,  o  bone  Jesu,  cordibus  eorum.  .  .  .  Domine, 
tu  testis  es  iuterius,  et  lacrymae  quae  me  hoc  scribente  tiuunt,  testes  sunt  ex- 
tei  ius."  —  Erist.  ii.  28. 

"  Epist.  i  66. 

*®  "  Quisquis  enini  bene  novit  Gondulfum  et  Anselmura,  cum  legit:  Gon- 
dulfo  Ansehnus,  non  ignorat  quid  subaudiatur,  vel  quantus  subinteliigatur 
aiioctus."  —  £j}.  i.  7.     *' Qualiter  namque  obliviscar  tui?     Te  silente   egu 


48  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

To  another  of  his  friends,  Gislebert,  he  says  :  "  Thou  knew- 
est  how  much  I  love  thee,  but  I  knew  it  not.  He  who  has 
separated  us  has  alone  instructed  me  how  dear  to  me  thou 
wert.  No,  I  knew  not  before  the  experience  of  thy  absence 
how  sweet  it  was  to  have  thee,  how  bitter  to  have  thee  not. 
Thou  hast  another  friend  whom  thou  hast  loved  as  much  or 
more  than  me  to  console  thee,  but  I  have  no  longer  thee  — 
thee  !  thee  !  thou  understandest  ?  and  nothing  to  replace  thee. 
Thou  hast  thy  consolers,  but  I  have  only  my  wound.  Thospi 
who  rejoice  in  the  possession  of  thee  may  perhaps  be  offend- 
ed by  what  1  say.  Ah  !  let  them  content  themselves  with 
their  joy,  and  permit  me  to  weep  for  him  whom  I  ever 
love."  ^^ 

Nor  could  death,  any  more  than  absence,  extinguisli  in  the 
heart  of  the  monk  those  flames  of  holy  love.  And  when 
these  gentle  ties  were  broken,  the  dying  carried  with  him  a 
certainty  that  he  should  not  be  forgotten,  and  the  survivor 
believed  in  the  invisible  duration  of  his  tenderness,  thanks 
to  those  praj^ers  for  souls,  incessant  and  obligatory,  which 
were  identified  with  all  the  monastic  habits  —  thanks  to  that 
devotion  for  the  dead  which  received  in  a  monastery  its 
final  and  perpetual  sanction."^  They  were  not  content  even 
with  common  and  permanent  prayer  for  the  dead  of  each 
isolated  monasteiy.  By  degrees,  vast  spiritual  associations 
were  formed  among  communities  of  the  same  order  and  the 
same  country,  with  the  aim  of  relieving  by  their  reciprocal 
prayers  the  defunct  members  of  each  house.  Rolls  of  parch- 
ment, transmitted  b}'  special  messengers  from  cloister  to  clois- 
ter, received  the  names  of  those  who  had  "  emigrated,"  accord- 
ing to  the  consecrated  expression,  from  "  this  terrestrial  light 
to  Christ,"  and  served  the  purpose  of  a  check  and  register  to 
prevent  def;\fcation  in  that  voluntary  impost  of  prayer  Avhich 
our  conobites  solicited  in  advance  for  themselves  or  for  their 
friends.'^i 

novi  quia  diligis  me  et  me  tacente  scis  quia  amo  te.  Tu  milii  conscius  es 
quia  ego  non  dubito  de  te;  et  ego  tibi  testis  sum  quia  tu  certus  es  de  me."  — 
Up.  i.  4.  "  Sed  quid  te  docebit  epistola  meu  quod  ignores,  o  tu  altera  anima? 
Intra  in  cubiculum  cordis  tui." —  £p.  i.  14. 

*^  •'  Et  quidem  tu  sciebas  erga  te  dilectionem  meam ;  sed  utique  ego  ipse 
nesciebam  earn.  Qui  nos  scidit  ab  invicem,  ille  me  docuit  quantum  te  dili- 
gerem." —  Ep.  i.  75. 

'"  It  is  known  that  the  Festival  of  the  Commemoration  of  the  Departed 
was  instituted  by  St.  Odilon,  Abbot  of  Cluny,  in  998. 

"  "  De  hac  luce  migravit,  ut  credimus,  ad  Christum.  Deprecor  vos  om- 
nes  .  .  .  ut  me  familiariter  habeatis,  maxime  in  sacris  orationibus,  et  quando 
dies  obitus  mei  vobis  notus  fuerit,  misericorditer  de  me  facere  dignemini. 


INTIIODUCTION.  40 

Here  let  us  return  to  Anselm.  When  he  was  elected  prior 
of  Bee,  a  yonn<2;  monk  called  Osbern,  jealous  of  his  promotion, 
was  seized  with  hatred  towards  hinj,  and  demonstrated  it 
violently.  Anselm  devoted  himself  to  this  young  man,  g-ained 
upon  him  by  degrees  by  his  indulgence,  traced  for  him  the 
path  of  austerities,  made  him  a  saint,  watched  him  niglit  and 
day  during  his  last  sickness,  and  received  his  last  sigh.  Af- 
terwards he  still  continued  to  love  tlie  soul  of  him  who  had 
been  his  enemy  ;  and,  not  content  with  saying  mass  for  him 
every  day  during  a  year,  he  hastened  from  monastery  to 
monastery  soliciting  others  to  join  him.  "I  beg  of  you,"  he 
wrote  to  Gondulph,  "  of  you  and  of  all  my  friends,  to  pray 
for  Osbern.  His  soul  is  my  soul.  All  that  you  do  for  him 
during  ray  life,  I  shall  accept  as  if  you  had  done  it  for  me 
after  my  deatli,and  when  T  die  you  shall  leave  rae  there.  .  .  . 
1  conjure  you  for  the  third  time,  remember  me,  and  forget 
not  the  soul  of  my  well-beloved  Osbern.  And  if  1  ask  too 
much  of  you,  then  forget  me  and  remember  him.  .  .  .  All 
those  who  surround  me,  and  Avho  love  thee  as  I  do,  desire  to 
enter  into  that  secret  chamber  of  thy  memory  where  1  am 
ahvays  :  I  am  well  pleased  that  they  should  have  places  near 
me  tliere ;  but  the  soul  of  my  Osbern,  ah!  I  beseech  thee, 
give  it  no  other  place  than  in  my  bosom."  '^ 

Great  is  the  history  of  nations  —  their  revolutions,  their 
destinies,  their  mission,  their  glory,  their  punishments,  their 
heroes,  their  dynasties,  their  battles;  the  tale  is  great, noble, 
and  fruitful.  But  how  much  more  fruitful  and  vast  is  the 
history  of  souls  !  Of  what  importance,  after  all,  are  his  an- 
cestors and  his  descendants  to  a  man  ?  Of  what  importance 
to  an  atom  is  the  orbit  in  which  it  moves?  That  which  does 
concern  him  is  to  love,  to  be  loved ;  and,  during  this  brief 
liie,  to  know  that  he  is  the  being  dear  above  all  things  to  an- 
other being.  ''  It  appears  manifest,"  says  Bossuet,  with  his 
solemn  gravity,  "  that  man  is  the  delight  qfmanP     There  is 

.  .  .  Nomina  fratrum  delunctoruni  libenti  animo  suscipite  .  .  .  et  ad  vicina 
monasteria  dirigite."  —  Formules  de  S.  Gall.,  E.  de  RozifeRE,  Nos.  29  and 
81.  Compare  the  excellent  work  on  this  subject  by  M.  Leopold  Delisle, 
in  the  Bibl.  de  V Ecole  des  Chartes,  t.  iii.  2d  sei'ies. 

^^  "  Anima  ejus  anima  mea  est.  Accipiam  igitur  in  illo  vivus  quicquid  ab 
amicitia  poteram  sperare  defunctus,  ut  sint  otiosi,  me  defuncto.  .  .  .  Precor 
et  precor  et  precor,  memento  mei  et  ne  obliviscaris  animas  Osberni  dilecti 
mei.  Quod  si  te  nimis  videar  onerare,  mei  obliviscere  et  illius  memorare." 
—  Ep.  i.  4.  "  Eos  interiori  cubiculo  memoriae  tuae  ibi,  ubi  ego  assiduus  as- 
sideo  .  .  .  colloca  mecum  in  circuitu  meo :  sed  animam  Osberni  mei,  rogOt 
chare  mi,  illam  non  nisi  in  sinu  meo."  —  £p.  i.  7. 

"  Sermon  for  the  Circumcision. 
VOL.  L  5 


50  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

DO  real  key  of  the  heart  but  love.  Love  is  the  law  of  the 
heart.  It  is  this  which  moves  its  most  secret  inclinations 
and  energies."  ^^  Tiie  solitary  sufferings  of  that  love,  its 
emotions  perpetually  renewed,  its  crises,  its  revolutions,  its 
confidence,  and  its  enthusiasm  —  all  that  great  world  which 
palpitates  within  the  narrow  enclosure  of  a  man's  life,  of  a 
heart  which  loves,  ah  !  this  is  the  most  beautiful  and  absorb- 
ing of  histories  ;  this  is  the  tale  which  endures  and  moves  us 
all  to  the  depths.  Of  all  the  scanty  number  of  immortal 
pages  which  float  upon  the  ocean  of  time,  almost  all  are  filled 
with  this  theme. 

But  let  us  see  here  the  glory  and  unparalleled  force  of 
religion  —  it  is  this,  that  in  resolving  all  social  problems, 
and  interpreting  all  historical  revolutions,  she  retains  every- 
where, and  above  all,  "  the  key  of  our  hearts."  She  has  a 
balm  lor  all  our  sufferings,  and  an  object  for  all  our  tender- 
nesses. She  knows  how  to  discipline  passion  without  weak- 
ening it ;  better  than  drying  up  our  too  precious  tears,  she 
makes  them  flow  from  a  source  purified  for  ever  by  an  eter- 
nal object.  She  replaces  the  twilight  of  our  transitory 
dreams  by  the  radiant  and  enchanting  serenity  of  an  undying 
light.  She  encircles  our  hearts  with  that  flame,  the  rays  of 
which  shine  through  infinitude.  She  has  originated  and  con- 
secrated the  supreme  triumph  of  love.  She  crowns  the  most 
tender  and  powerful  passions  by  something  sweeter  and 
stronger  still,  the  happiness  and  the  glory  of  sacrificing  them 
to  God.  It  is  in  monasteries  that  this  science  of  true  happi- 
ness and  real  love  has  been  longest  taught  and  practised. 
We  have  seen  that  rehgion  does  not  interdict  either  the 
warm  impulses  of  affection,  or  the  endearing  accents  of  the 
most  penetrating  sympathy  to  souls  united  in  God.  Let  us 
ever  listen  to  the  sounds  which  are  audible  in  that  sacred 
silence  :  they  will  reveal,  perhaps,  some  sweet  and  touching 
mystery  of  the  history  of  souls.  Let  us  give  ear  to  the  gen- 
tle and  perpetual  murmur  of  that  fountain  which  every 
cloister  once  enclosed  —  an  emblem  and  an  echo  of  the  spring 
from  which  gushed  such  inexhaustible  love. 

Therefore  our  monks  were  happy,  and  happy  by  love.  They 
loved  God,  and  they  loved  each  other  in  Him,  with  that  love 
which  is  strong  as  death.  If  we  would  seek  the  natural  con- 
sequence, the  general  condition,  and  the  best  proof  of  all  his 
happiness,  we  recognize  it  without  difSculty  in  that  external 

''  Sermon  for  Pentecost.  —  Id.  for  the  Annunciation. 


INTRODUCTION.  51 

and  inleriml  peace,  which  was  the  predominAut  characteristic 
of"  their  existence.  A  sweet  and  holy  peace  which  was  the 
radiant  conquest,  the  inahenable  patrimony  of  those  monks 
who  were  worthy  of  their  name,  and  of  which  no  one  else,  in 
an  equal  degree,  has  ever  possessed  the  secret  or  the  under- 
standing ! 

St.  Benedict,  the  greatest  of  monastic  legislators,  has  re- 
ceived no  nobler  title  from  a  grateful  posterity  than  that  of 
Founder  of  Peace. 

"  Ipse  fundator  placidse  quietis."  ^' 

We  are,  said  St.  Bernard,  the  Order  of  the  Peaceful?^  Ho 
had  the  most  perfect  right  to  say  so  :  in  the  midst  of  tliat 
belligerent  world  of  the  middle  ages,  entirely  organized  for 
war,  the  monks  formed  a  vast  army  of  soldiers  of  peace,  and 
that  was.  indeed,  the  title  which  they  gave  themselves :  Deo 
et  pad  TYiiLitantihus ."'' 

See,  therefore,  how  happiness,  according  to  the  divine 
promise,  accompanies  the  ministers  of  peace.  "  To  the  coun- 
sellors of  peace  is  joy."  '^  It  is  not  enough  even  to  say 
happiness  ;  we  should  say  gayety,  hilaritas,  that  gayety  which 
Fulbert  of  Charters,  describing  its  union  with  the  simplicity 
of  the  monks,  called  angelical'^ 

Of  all  the  erroneous  conceptions  of  Religious  life,  there  is 
not  one  more  absurd  than  that  which  would  persuade  us  to 
regard  it  as  a  life  sad  and  melancholy.  History  demonstrates 
precisely  the  contrary.  Let  us  cease  then  to  waste  our  pity 
upon  all  these  cloistered  victims  of  both  sexes,  phantoms  cre- 
ated by  false  history  and  false  philosophy,  which  serve  as  a 
pretext  for  the  prejudices  and  the  violence  by  which  so  many 
souls,  made  for  a  better  life,  and  so  many  real  victims  of  the 
most  cruel  oppression,  are  retained  in  the  world.  A  truce 
to  all  these  declamations  of  the  wretchedness  of  being  con- 
demned to  a  uniform  life,  to  unavoidable  duties,  and  unvaried 
occupations.    There  is  not  one  of  the  objections  made  against 

"'"  Alfano,  Monk  of  Mont  Cassin,  and  Archbishop  of  Salerno,  quoted  by 
Giesebrecht,  De  LiUerar.  Stud.  ap.  Jtalos,  p.  48. 

"®  De  Conversione,  c.  21. 

"'  This  is  the  title  of  the  letter  of  Wibald,  Abbot  of  Corvey,  in  the  twelfth 
century,  to  the  inonks  of  Hastieres,  in  Belgium.  In  the  epitaphs  of  the 
monks,  it  is  the  eulogium  which  recurs  oftenest:  '^ Pacijicus,  tranquilla  pace 
serenus  ;  "  ^^^mulus  hie  pads  ;  "  ''■  Fraterna  pads  amicus."  See  numeroua 
examples  collected  by  Digby,  t.  x.  c.  1. 

'^  Prov.  xii.  20. 

"  "Angelica  hilaritas  cum  monastica  simplicitate."  —  Fulb.  Cabnot., 
Ep.  66 


52  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

the  life  of  the  cloister  which  does  not  apply  with  quite  aa 
much  force  to  conjugal  life.  The  Christian,  the  true  sage, 
knows  well  that  perpetual  obligations,  voluntarily  undertaken, 
never  render  a  man  permanently  unhappy.  He  knows,  on 
the  contrar}',  that  they  are  indispensable  to  order  and  peace 
in  his  soul.  That  which  tortures  and  consumes,  is  neither 
obligafion  nor  duty  ;  it  is  instabilitj^,  agitation,  the  fever  of 
change.  Ah  !  when  the  spirit  of  the  world  penetrated  the 
cloi>ter,  and  ended  by  stealing  it  away  from  the  spirit  of 
God  —  when  it  had  introduced  there  the  commende,  the  prin- 
ciple of  individual  property,  indolence,  coldness,  all  that 
corruption  which  lay  usurpation  sowed  everywhere  through- 
out the  field,  which  she  took  upon  herself  to  confiscate  — 
then,  doubtless,  that  which  had  been  a  rare  and  guilty  excep- 
tion, became  an  abuse  too  habitual  and  general.  Then, 
doubtless,  there  M^as  a  crowd  of  vocations  false  or  compul- 
sory, and  of  bitter  sorrows,  stifled  under  the  frock  or  the  veil. 
Butv.'hilst  it  was  permitted  to  the  monastic  orders  to  flourish 
in  freedom  under  the  wing  of  the  Church,  sheltered  from 
secular  invasions,  melancholy  was  unknown,  or  at  least  ap- 
peared only  now  and  then  like  a  malady,  the  rareness  of 
wliich  renders  it  more  I'rightfnl.  ''  TJtey  had  no  sadness,^^^^ 
is  the  testimony  given  of  them  in  the  fourth  century,  by  the 
first  of  their  apologists  :  "  they  ivage  loar  with  the  devil  as  if 
they  were  playing  J  ^  ^^ 

\V"e  see  it  unceasingly  specified  among  the  qualities  of  the 
most  pious  abbots  and  exemplary  monks,  that  they  were  gay, 
joyous,  amusing,  loving  to  laugh,  Jocundus,  facetus.  These 
expressions  overflow  above  all  from  the  pen  of  Orderic  Vital, 
who,  speaking  of  himself  in  his  long  and  precious  history, 
tells  us  — ''  I  have  borne  for  forty-two  years,  with  happiness, 
the  sweet  yoke  of  the  Lord."  ^^  St.  Anselm,  that  great  and 
irreproachable  monk,  certainly  knew  what  he  said  when  he 
thus  challenged  the  secular  clergy  of  his  time :  "  You  who 
believe  that  it  is  easier  to  live  religiously  under  the  habit  of 
a  priest  than  to  bear  the  burden  of  monastic  life,  behold  and 
see  with  what  lightness  that  burden  is  borne  by  Christians  of 
each  sex,  of  every  age  and   condition,  who  fill  the   entire 

^  ^'OrSev  yciQ  tj^cvni  XvnrjQor." — S.  JoANN   Chrysost.,  I'w  Maith.  Homil. 

69,  ed.  Gaume,  vii.  770. 

*'  Literally,  dancing,  utantq  ;j'o^e!'oiTtc,  quasi  choreas  agentes.  —•  Ibid, 

®*  "  Sincero  monachorum  conventui  fcedere  indissolubili  sociatus,  annos 

xlii.  jam  leve  juyum  Domini  gratanter  bajulavi."  —  Ordek.  Vit.,  lib.  v. 

p.  307. 


INTRODUCTION.  53 

world  vi  itli  their  songs  of  joy."  ^^  And  six  centuries  ufter 
him,  the  Abbot  de  Ranee,  who  has  been  so  often  instanced 
to  us  as  a  type  of  monkish  melancholy  and  suffering,  opposed 
to  the  calumnies  with  which  his  Religious  were  then  assailed, 
their  conjunction  of  gayetyand  edifying  charity .^^ 

But  they  made  no  monopoly  of  that  peace  and  joy  which 
was  their  inheritance  ;  they  distributed  it  with  lull  hands  to 
all  who  surrounded  them — to  all  who  gave  them  permission — . 
everywhere.  They  evidenced  it,  the}' preached  it, they  bestow- 
ed it  upon  all  who  approached  them.  "  The  monks,"  said  the 
great  Arclibishop  of  Constantinople,  whom  we  here  quote  for 
the  last  time,  —  '*  the  monks  are  like  the  lighthouses  placed  on 
high  mountains,  which  draw  all  navigators  to  the  tranquil 
port  which  they  light  —  those  who  contemplate  them  fear  no 
more  either  darkness  or  shipwreck."  ^^ 

The  happiness  enjoyed  by  the  people  who  were  subjects 
or  neighbors  of  the  religious  orders  when  they  themselves 
were  free  and  regular,  in  a  fact,  the  evidence  of  which  is  de- 
clared by  history,  and  consecrated  in  the  memory  of  all  na- 
tions. ^^  No  institution  was  ever  more  popular,  no  masters 
were  more  beloved.  Doubtless  they  have  had  their  enemies 
and  persecutors  in  all  times,  as  the  Church  and  virtue  itself 
has  had.  But  while  Europe  remained  faithful,  these  were 
but  a  minority  disavowed  by  general  opinion.  And  even 
when  that  minority  became  master  of  the  world,  it  succeeded 
in  destroying  the  monastic  orders  only  by  violence  and  pro- 
scription. Wherever  the  orders,  still  free  from  lay  corrup- 
tion,^^ have  perished,  it  has  been  amid  the  grief  and  lasting 

**  "  Consideret  per  totum  mundum  quanta  hilaritate  utrique  sexui,  onmi 
setate  et  omni  genere  hominum,  sit  pondus  illud  cantabile."  —  S.  Anselm, 
Epist.  ii.  12. 

^*  "You  might  have  said  to  that  incredulous  person  that,  in  addition  to 
1500  to  2000  poor,  whom,  as  I  have  oiten  counted,  they  supported  by  pubHc 
donations  in  the  dear  years,  they  also  sustain  privately,  by  monthly  pensions, 
all  the  families  in  the  neighhorhood  who  are  unable  to  work;  that  they  re- 
ceive four  thousand  gue^ts ;  that  they  nourish  and  maintain  eighty  monks ; 
and  all  for  an  income  of  8000  or  9000  livres  at  the  most:  and  you  might  ask 
him  to  point  out  to  you  ten  households,  each  with  the  same  income,  who  do 
anything  approaching  to  what  those  sluggards,  as  he  calls  them,  do  with  a 
gaycty  and  an  edilication  of  wiiich  you  would  wish  that  he  might  be  a  spec- 
tator."—  Letter  from  the  Abbot  de  R-xnce  to  the  Abbot  Nicaisc. 

^*  S.  Joan.  Chrys.,  Uomil.  59,  ad  Popitl.  Antiochtiium.  He  recurs  con- 
stantly to  this  simile  in  his  several  writings.  Cf.  Adv.  Oppugn.  Vit. 
Monast.,  lib.  iii.  t.  i.  p.  114.  Bom.  iti  Epist.  ad  Timoth.,  14,  t.  xi.  p.  57G, 
ed   Gaume. 

®®  We  have  quoted  a  thousand  times  the  German  proverb:  "  Unter  dem 
Krummstab  ist  es  gut  wohnen  "  (It  is  gocd  to  live  under  the  crosier). 

®''  It  will  be  shown  further  ou  that  we  do  not  include  in  this  judgment  the 

5* 


54  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

regret  of  the  population  which  depended  on  them.  And  if 
elsewhere,  as  in  France,  where  the  epoch  of  their  ruin  wag 
contemporary  with  the  ruin  of  faith  in  the  whole  nation,  their 
fall  has  been  seen  with  indifference,  at  least  it  has  never  been 
called  for  by  popular  vengeance  or  antipathy. 

The  spoliations  and  crimes  of  Avhich  they  were  the  victims, 
Lave  been  the  work  of  princes  or  assemblies  who  plumed 
themselves  upon  their  scorn  for  the  affections  as  for  the  faith 
of  the  vulgar,  and  have  inspired  only  regret  and  alarm  to  the 
people  of  the  country,  or  to  those  inferior  and  indigent  classes 
whoso  necessities  and  passions  awake  so  much  just  solicitude 
at  the  present  time.  This  testimony  has  been  borne  by  all 
who  have  sincerely  studied  the  history  of  their  destruction, 
even  among  their  adversaries.^^  Above  all,  it  should  be 
rendered  to  them  by  the  author  of  these  pages,  Avho  has 
visited,  in  many  countries,  the  site  of  nearl}'  two  hundred 
monasteries,  and  who  has  collected,  wherever  any  contem- 
poraries of  monastic  charity  survived,  the  expression  of  their 
gratitude  and  their  regret.  And  how  could  they  fail  to  e:s- 
ercise  that  influence,  —  they  ''whose  trade  was  doing  disin- 
terested good  ?  "  S9  How  could  they  fail  to  be  loved,  they 
who  loved  so  well  ?  It  was  not  only  for  their  alms,  for  their 
practical  generosit}'  and  hospitality,  that  they  reigned  thus 
in  all  hearts  ;  it  was  for  their  benign  and  paternal  sympath^y, 
their  active  and  cordial  interest  in  the  people ;  it  was  still 
more  by  their  constant  and  active  solicitude  for  the  salvation 
and  happiness  of  all  suffering  souls.^ 

monasteries  morally  ruined  by  the  commende,  or  any  other  abuse,  which  suc- 
cumbed in  1790;  but  that  it  refers  to  the  destruction  of  those  which  had  re- 
mained faithful  to  tlieir  rule  in  England,  Germany,  Sweden,  and  recently  in 
Spain  and  Switzerland,  where  the  people  armed  themselves  to  defend  them. 

'*'  Let  us  quote,  from  among  a  tliousand,  a  Portuguese  author,  a  great 
partisan  of  the  system  wliicii  has  ruined  and  inthralied  the  Church  of  his 
country,  and  who  has  recognized,  but  too  late,  the  inconvenience  of  the  in- 
discriminate suppression  of  monasteries.  "We,"  says  he,  ''wlio  have 
assisted  at  the  suppression  of  part  of  the  ancient  monasteries  of  Minho,  and 
wiio  have  seen  the  tears  of  the  people,  wlio  had  always  found  there  succor  in 
their  illnesses  and  bread  in  tlieir  -dd  age,  — we  know  not  whether  those  tears 
were  deceitful,  but  we  know  well  that  they  gave  an  express  contradiction  to 
the  theories  of  politicians  wiio  wrote  l';;r  from  the  countries,  in  the  silence  of 
tlieir  cabinets,  or  in  the  midst  of  the  noise  of  great  towns." —  0  Panorama, 
jornal  litterario,  No.  27,  I^isboa,  1S37. 

^'  Wordsworth. 

*®       "  Mitis  erat  cunctis,  suavis,  plus.  .  .  . 

Quen  moistuni  vidit,  queni  tristem,  queinque  dolentem 
Afl'atu  dulci  ma'rentia  pectora  mulcens." 
Tills   fiiiguRtit.   iVom   the  epita|)ii   of  an   abbot  of  Gembloux,  Herluin  (ap, 
Dacheky,  Spicileg.,  t    ii.),  applies  to  almost  all  the  abbots  who  are  known  t* 
us  in  liistoiy. 


INTRODUCTION.  55 

"Weep  with  tlie  unhappy,"  ^^  said  one  of  the  patriarchs  of 
the  monastic  order,  St.  Columba;  and  it  was  a  precept  which 
they  never  disobeyed.  Nowliere  has  the  human  race  in  its 
joys  and  sorrows  found  sympathies  more  living;  and  productive 
than  under  the  frock  of  the  monk.  A  h'fe  of  solitude,  morti- 
fication, and  ceHbacy.  far  from  extinguishing-  in  the  heart  of 
the  monk  the  love  of  his  neighbor,  augumented  its  inten- 
sity, and  redoubled  by  purifying  it.  We  have  proof  of  this 
in  their  innumerable  writings,  in  their  animated  chronicles, 
in  all  that  remains  to  us  of  them.  Their  writers  employed, 
to  designate  that  disposition  which  was  native  to  monastic 
souls, a  special  term,that  o{henignitas  —  that  is  to  say,  benevo- 
lence elevated  and  purified  by  piety ;  benignitas,  a  word  en- 
tirely Christian,  entirely  monastic,  and  as  difficult  to  trans- 
late as  the  other  two  habitual  virtues  of  the  cloister,  sim- 
pUcitas^^  nwd  hilaritas. 

Their  doors  were  always  open,  not  only  to  the  poor  and 
exiled,  but  to  all  souls  fatigued  with  life,  bowed  down  under 
the  weight  of  their  faults,  or  simply  enamoured  of  study  and 
silence.  To  all  these  different  guests  the  monk  ofiered  his 
peace  and  shared  it  with  them. 

Thus  there  was  not  a  necessity,  moral  or  material,  for 
which  the  monks,  who,  of  all  the  benefactors  of  humanity, 
V7ere  certainly  the  most  generous,  the  most  ingenious,  the 
most  amiable,  disinterested,  and  persevering,  had  not  at- 
tempted to  provide.  From  thence  resulted  much  happiness 
imperceptible  in  the  annals  of  history,  but  distilled  in  abun- 
dance into  the  heart  of  the  Christian  people  during  all  the 
period  of  monastic  fervor  ;  from  thence  came  that  invinci- 
ble peace,  that  luminous  serenity,  which  held  sway  over  so 
many  souls  —  even  in  the  midst  of  the  most  stormy  epochs  of 
tliG  Middle  Age. 

Who  knows,  besides,  how  much  the  mere  sight  of  their 
worship,  the  pomp  of  their  ceremonies  so  majestic  and 
solemn,  and  the  very  sound  of  their  chants,  delighted  the 
surrounding  population  ?  These  were  during  many  centuries 
the  favorite  spectacles,  the  fetes  most  sought  after  by  the 
poor  and  by  the  country  people,  who  resorted  thither  in 
crowds,  and  always  found  a  place.  Those  who  were  pros- 
perous in  the  world  —  the  great,  and  rich,  and  even  stran- 

91  "  Pro  misero  misorans  lacrymas  effunde  sodali."  —  S.  Colu  jib  an  Car- 
men MonasticJion,  ap.  Canisius,  Thesanr-,  t.  ii.  p.  749. 

*^  "  Hie  jacet  in  tuinba  simplex  tidolisque  columba."  —  Epitaph  of  an  ab- 
bot of  St.  Victor,  in  1383,  ap.  Digby,  t.  x.  p.  i41. 


56  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

gers  —  found  a  heartfelt  enjoyment  in  contemplating  close 
at  hand  the  peaceable  course  of  monastic  life,  though  they 
did  not  cease  to  navigate  for  themselves  the  agitated  waves 
of  the  world  ;  they  loved  to  quench  their  thirst  in  that  pure 
and  fresh  stream.  The  mere  siglit  of  the  monks,  who  were 
at  the  same  time  so  austere  and  so  happy,  often  sufficed 
to  determine  remarkable  conversions  ;^2  and  always  re- 
newed in  the  heart  salutary  thoughts  of  eternity.  The 
most  beautiful  souls,  the  highest  intelligences,  have  yield- 
ed to  that  attraction,  and  have  eloquently  confessed  it. 
True  philosophy  has  rendered  to  it,  by  the  mouth  of  Leibnitz, 
a  generous  homage.^^  True  poetry  has  appreciated  its  sin- 
gular and  unconquerable  charm.  At  a  time  when  more  than 
one  symptom  of  approaching  decadence  obscured  the  horizon, 
Petrarch  spoke  of  monastic  solitude  like  a  Father  of  Vallom- 
brosaor  of  the  Chartreuse,^^  ^^(j  Tasso  has  never  been  more 
happily  inspired  than  in  his  sonnet  addressed  to  the  order  of 
St.  Benedict,  the  touching  melody  of  which  comes  opportune 
ly  to  interrupt  this  poor  prose  :  — ^^ 

"  Nobil  porto  del  mondo  e  di  fortuna, 

Di  sacri  e  dolci  studj  alta  quiete, 

Silenzi  amici,  e  vaghe  cliiostre,  e  liete ! 

Laddove  e  1'  ora,  e  1'  ombra  occulta,  e  bruna: 
Teinpli,  ove  a  suon  di  squilla  altri  s'aduna, 

Degni  viepiu  d'  archi,  e  teatri,  e  niiete, 

In  cui  talor  si  sparge,  e  'n  cui  si  miete 

Quel  clie  ne  puo  luidrir  1'  alma  digiuiia. 
Usci  di  voi  clii,  fra  gli  acuti  scogli, 

Delia  nave  di  Pietro  antica  e  carca, 

Tenne  1'  alto  governo  in  gran  tempesta. 
A  voi,  deposte  1'  arme  e  i  feri  orgogli, 

Venner  gli  Augusti :    e  'n  voi  s'  ha  pace  onesta, 

Non  pur  sicura :  e  quindi  al  ciel  si  varca."  ^' 

Beside  that  great  Italian  and  Catholic  poet,  we  quote  the 

'■*  For  example,  that  of  Guibert,  of  Nogent,  so  well  related  by  himself, 
Vita  propria. 

^*  •'  He  who  is  ignorant  of  their  services  or  who  despises  them,"  says  Leib- 
nitz, speaking  of  tlio  monks,  "has  only  a  narrow  and  vulgar  idea  of  virtue, 
and  stupidly  believes  that  he  has  fulfilled  all  his  obligations  towards  God  by 
some  habitual  practices  accomplished  with  that  coldness  which  excludes  zeal 
and  love." 

^*  See  his  treatise  De  Vita  Solitaria,  especially  Chapter  viii.  of  Book  2, 
which  begins  thus  :  "O  vere  vita  pacifica,  coelestique  siuiilliina.  0  vita  nie- 
lior  super  vitas.  .  .  .  Vita  reformatrix  aninise.  .  .  .  Vita  philosophica,  poet- 
ica.  sancta,  prophetica,"  page  25G,  ed.  loSl. 

*®  Among  the  modern  poets,  no  one  has  celebrated  with  more  feeling  and 
truth  the  glory  of  the  Monastic  Orders,  nor  more  eloquently  deplored  theil 
ruin,  than  the  English  Wordsworth. 

^'  Tasso,  Rime  Sucre  e  Morali,  Sonn.  5. 


INTRODUCTION.  57 

master  of  English  prose,  the  Protestant  Johnson,  whose  roas- 
online  genius  appreciated,  even  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
the  holy  beauty  of  monastic  institutions.  "  I  never  read," 
said  he,  "of  a  hermit,  but  in  imagination  I  kiss  his  feet: 
never  of  a  monastery,  but  I  fall  on  my  knees  and  kiss  the 
pavement." 

Thus,  then,  by  acknowledgment  of  the  most  competent 
and  impartial  judges,  the  much  abused  monks  had  found  the 
secret  of  the  two  rarest  things  in  the  world  —  happiness  and 
duration.  They  had  discovered  the  art  of  reconciling  great- 
ness of  soul  with  humility,  a  tranquillized  heart  with  an 
ardent  mind,  freedom  and  fulness  of  action  with  a  minute 
and  absolute  submission  to  rule,  ineffiiceablo  traditions  with 
an  absence  of  all  hereditary  property,  activity  with  peace, 
joy  with  labor,  social  life  wnth  solitude,  the  greatest  moral 
force  with  the  greatest  material  feebleness.  And  this  mar- 
vellous contrast — this  strange  union  of  the  most  diverse 
qualities  and  conditions — they  had  been  able  to  maintain 
during  a  thousand  years,  through  all  the  frailties  of  human 
things,  and  despite  a  thousand  abuses,  a  thousand  causes  of 
corruption,  decadence,  and  ruin.  They  would  have  lasted 
still  if  tyrants,  sophists,  and  rhetoricians,  under  pretext  of 
curing  the  sick  man  whom  they  hated,  had  not  slaughtered 
him  to  enrich  themselves  with  his  spoil. 

Now  all  has  disappeared  :  that  fountain  of  the  purest  and 
most  inoffensive  happiness  to  be  found  upon  earth  is  ex- 
hausted :  that  generous  stream  which  flowed  through  ages 
in  waves  of  incessant  and  fruitful  intercession  is  dried  up.^^ 
We  might  say  a  vast  interdict  had  been  cast  upon  the  world. 
That  melodious  voice  which  the  monks  raised  day  and  night 
from  the  bosom  of  a  thousand  sanctuaries  to  assuage  the 
anger  of  Heaven  and  draw  down  peace  and  joy  into  Chris- 
tian hearts,  is  silenced  among  us.'^^  Those  fair  and  dear 
churches,  where  so  many  generations  of  our  fathers  resorted 
to  seek  consolation,  courage,  and  strength  to  strive  against 
the  evils  of  life,  are  fallen.  Those  cloisters  which  offered  a 
safe  and  noble  asylum  to  all  the  arts  and  all  the  sciences  — 

98  "  It  was  as  though  the  Kaiser  liad  stopped  the  fountains  of  one  of  the 
Lombard  rivers.  .  .  .  That  Carthusian  world  of  peaceful  sanctity,  of  king- 
protecting  intercession,  of  penitence  and  benediction,  of  heaven  realized  be- 
low, was  signed  away,  swept  from  the  earth  by  a  written  name!  "  —  Faber, 
Sigiis  and  Thovght  in  Foriiyn  Churches,  p.  165,  in  reference  to  the  sup 
pression  of  the  Carthusians  of  Pavia  by  Joseph  11. 

^^  '•  Dulcis  cantilena  divini  cultus,  quaj  corda  fidelium  mitigat  ac  lajtificat, 
conticuit."  —  Okdkr.  Vital.,  t.  xii.  lib.  xiii.  p.  008,  ed  Duchesne. 


58  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

where  all  the  miseries  of  man  were  solaced — where  the 
hungry  were  always  satisfied,  the  naked  clothed,  the  igno- 
rant enlightened,  exist  no  more  except  as  ruins,  stained  by  a 
thousand  ignoble  profanations.  Those  sylvan  heights,  those 
ho!y  mountains,  those  elevated  places,  where  thoughts  of 
God  had  their  habitation — "He  dwelleth  on  high  "  (Isaiah 
xxxiii.  5)  —  which  heretofore  cast  upon  the  world  a  light  so 
pure,  and  shadows  so  fresh  and  salutar^y,  resemble  only  the 
uuwooded  summits  which  we  encounter  here  and  there, 
transformed  by  the  devastating  axe  into  arid  and  naked  rocks, 
where  a  blade  of  grass  or  a  green  leaf  reappears  no  more. 
In  vain  the  sun  gilds  them  v;ith  his  fruitful  rays  —  in  vain 
the  dews  of  heaven  suffuse  them.  The  hand  of  the  destro3^er 
has  been  there :  burned,  dried  up,  condemned  to  an  eternal 
sterib'ty,  they  subsist  ao  longer  but  as  monuments  of  ruin 
and  folly. 

Often,  however,  nature  has  had  pity  upon  these  ruins,' 
which  testify  to  the  pitiless  ingratitude  of  men.  She  has 
thrown  around  these  monuments  of  their  rapacity  deco- 
rations perpetually  renewed — she  has  veiled  their  shame 
under  the  inexhaustible  riches  of  her  abundant  verdure  — 
she  has  wrapped  them,  as  in  a  shroud,  with  her  immortal 
robe  of  ivy  and  eglantine,  with  creeping  plants  and  wild 
flowers.  She  attracts  to  them  thus,  even  from  the  indifferent, 
a  sj'mpathetic  and  attentive  gaze.  And  where  the  climate, 
or  the  still  more  cruel  hand  of  man,  has  not  permitted  that 
struggle  of  nature  against  scorn  and  foi'getfulness,  some- 
times a  plaintive  legend  survives  and  resists  them,  like  a  last 
protest.  Thus  amid  the  ruins  of  the  Abbey  of  Kilconnell, 
in  the  western  extremity  of  Ireland,  the  Irish  peasants, 
themselves  spoiled  and  dishonored  for  so  many  centuries, 
still  show  in  the  pavement  of  the  ruined  church  certain  long 
lines  and  little  hollows,  furrowed  in  the  stone,  according  to 
their  tale,  by  those  drops  of  fire,  the  burning  tears  of  the 
poor  monks  when  they  were  expelled  forever  from  theii 
well-beloved  sanctuary. 


INTRODUCTION.  59 

CHAPTER    VI. 

CHARGES  AGAINST  THE  MONKS —  MONASTIC  WEALTH. 

Who  planteth  a  vineyard,  and  eatoth  not  of  the  fruit  thereof  or  who  fecdeth  a  flock,  and 
eatetli  not  of  the  milk  of  the  flock  ? —  ]  Coii,  ix.  7. 

But  whilst  we  abandon  oui^selves,  with  tender  and  melan- 
choly respect,  to  the  contemplation  of  that  extinguished 
grandeur,  the  world  still  retains  in  its  recollection  the  clamors 
which,  during  three  centuries,  have  assailed  the  monastic 
order,  and  does  not  cease  to  celebrate  its  fall. 

"  Monk  !  "  said  Voltaire,  "  what  is  that  profession  of  thine  ? 
It  is  that  of  having  none,  of  engaging  one's  self  by  an  in- 
violable oath  to  be  a  fool  and  a  slave,  and  to  live  at  the  ex- 
pense of  others."  ^  That  definition  had  been  universally 
accepted  and  applauded  in  the  kingdom  which  was  the  cradle 
of  the  order  of  Cluny  and  of  the  congregation  of  St.  Maur, 
in  the  country  of  Benedict  d'Aniane,  of  St.  Bernard,  of 
Peter  the  Venerable,  of  Mabillon,  and  of  Ranee.  It  had 
crossed  the  Rhine  ;  and  the  Emperor  of  that  Germany  which 
was  converted  by  the  monk  Boniface,  his  Apostolic  Majesty 
Joseph  II.,  wrote  in  October,  1781:  ^' The  principles  of 
monasticism,  from  Pacome  to  our  own  days,  are  entirely  con- 
trar}^  to  the  light  of  reason."  The  French  Revolution,  and 
the  secularization  imposed  by  Bonaparte  on  Germany,  gave 
effect  to  these  oracles  of  the  modern  world.  The  instruc- 
tions of  Madame  Roland,  who  wrote  — ''  Let  us  then  sell  the 
ecclesiastical  possessions  —  we  shall  never  be  freed  of  these 
ferocious  beasts  till  we  have  destroyed  their  dens,"^  having 
been  punctually  executed,  we  might  have  hoped  that  hate 
should  have  been  quenched  by  proscription. 

But  it  is  not  so.  The  cruel  passions  which  have  buried 
that  long-enduring  institution  under  the  ruins  of  the  past, 

'  Dialogues. 

'■'  Autograph  letter  to  Lantlienas,  SOlli  June,  1790.  Three  years  later,  the 
representative  Andrew  Dumont  wrote  as  follows  to  the  Convention  of  the 
department  of  Soninie,  where  he  was  on  a  mission  :  —  "  Citizen  colleagues, 
new  captures !  certain  iniamous  bigots  of  priests  li\  ed  in  a  heap  of  hay  in  the 
ci-devant  Abbey  of  Gard;  their  long  beards  proved  Iww  inveterate  was  their 
aristocracy.  These  three  evil  creatures,  these  monks,  have  been  discovered. 
.  .  .  Thee  three  monsters  have  gone  to  tiie  dungeon  to  await  their  sen- 
tence ■'  LoGard  was  an  abbey  of  the  crder  of  Citeaux,  in  Picardy,  between 
An/iens  and  Abbeville,  situated  on  the  Somme. 


60  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

live  still  among  us.  Steadfast  and  implacable,  they  watch 
around  that  which  they  believe  to  be  a  tomb,  fearing  some 
day  the  resurrection  of  their  victim  ;  and  at  the  least  appear- 
ance of  a  renewed  life,  they  pursue  even  his  memory  with 
trite  and  vulgar  calumnies. 

The  diatribes  which  have  been  drawn  from  too  celebrated 
pens  by^  a  culpable  complaisance  for  these  victorious  preju- 
dices, are  expounded  and  aggravated  by  the  unknown  voices 
which  bellow  in  the  shade,  and  swell  the  echoes  of  falsehood 
and  of  hate.  Whilst  one  denounces  to  his  hundred  thousand 
readeis  ''  the  beatified  aberrations  and  ignorance  of  monkish 
asceticism," 3  others  repeat,  in  emulation,  that  "'the  monks 
and  the  nuns  are  but  sluggards,  fattened  at  the  expense  of 
the  people."*  This  is  said  and  resaid  every  day  in  spite  of 
the  man}'  monuments,  old  and  new,  of  historical  science, 
which  prove  beyond  refutation  how  generally  the  people 
have  been  fattened  at  the  expense  of  the  monks. 

Those  commonplaces  of  ignorant  and  triumphant  wicked- 
ness have  taken  their  place  as  a  final  judgment  in  the  mind 
of  the  crowd.  All  obsolete  and  repugnant  as  they  are,  let 
us  listen  to  them  and  recall  them,  if  it  were  onl}'  to  confirm 
ourselves  in  a  horror  of  falsehood  and  injustice. 

Let  us  take  up,  in  the  first  place,  at  the  head  of  these 
slanders  of  misled  reason,  the  grand  I'eproach  for  which  it 
will  shortly  begin  to  blush,  but  which  the  sophists  of  the 
last  two  centuries  employed  with  so  much  success  as  to 
diminish  the  credit  of  the  monks  with  statesmen.  They 
were  vowed  to  celibacy,  and  celibacy  put  a  troublesome  limit 
to  the  progress  of  population.  This  was  then  the  most  uni- 
versal and  incontestable  of  their  crimes.^     We  know  what 

**  M.  DE  Lamartink,    Ilistoire  de  la  Restauration,   livre  xv.  §  8. 

*  L".  Semeur,  i>\\\\oso\}\\\<i-a\  iind  literary  jouriia!,  13th  October,  18 17.  Let 
us  recall,  in  connection  with  tliis  snbject,  that,  in  his  Manuel  Du  Droit  Pub- 
lic Ecclesiastique  Frangais,  published  in  IS-l-t,  page  2uD,  M.  Diipin,  then  as 
now  Attorney-General  of  the  Court  of  Cassation,  has  attempted  to  employ  as 
a  weapon  against  the  religious  congregations  and  associations  not  recognized 
by  the  modern  law,  the  suit  instituted  against  what  he  calls  the  Religions  Oon- 
greyation  of  Bacchanals  at  Rome,  in  the  year  1S6  before  Jesus  Christ,  which 
was,  according  to  the  epitome  of  book  89th  of  Livy,  quoted  by  the  learned 
jurisconsult,  scaler  am  omnium  seminarium.  In  a  recent  debate  in  the  French 
Senate,  in  May  1860,  he  has  not  blushed  to  repeat  this  contemptible  parallel. 

"  This  reproach  goes  very  far  back.  Colbert,  in  his  memoir  of  the  loth 
May,  ICGo,  says  to  Louis  XIV. :  "  The  monks  and  nuns  not  only  hold  them- 
selves relieved  from  work  which  would  advance  the  common  good,  but  even 
deprive  the  public  of  all  the  children  whom  they  might  produce,  to  serve  in 
necessai'y  and  useful  duties." —  Revue  Retrospective,  2d  series,  t.  iv.  pp.  257, 
8.58.  • 


INTRODUCTION.  61 

has  become  of  that  reproach  nowadays.  It  is  alraost  as  if 
God  had  waited  till  the  lie  had  achieved  its  triumph,  to  over- 
whelm it  with  confusion.  That  population  which  the  religious 
orders  were  accused  of  stemming  up  in  its  source,  has  be- 
come too  often  the  most  cruel  of  embarrassments,  and  the 
world  is  covered  with  doctors  and  economists,  licensed  to  seek 
the  best  means  of  arresting  its  progress. 

Who  does  not  know  to  what  monstrous  consequences  the 
heirs  of  these  accusers  of  monastic  celibacy  have  come? 
There  is  here  an  abyss  of  error  and  of  darkness  which  it  is 
not  our  business  to  fathom,  but  into  which,  at  least,  we  do 
not  fear  to  follow  that  illustrious  archbishop,  who  has  sealed 
by  martyrdom  the  constant  moderation  of  his  opinions,  and 
the  noble  independence  of  his  life.  "  An  antichristian  sci-" 
ence,"  said  M.  Affre,  "  had  encouraged  an  unlimited  devel- 
opment of  population.  Overwhelmed  now  by  this  novel 
increase,  she  sets  herself  to  calculate  how  much  misery  and 
oppression  is  necessary  to  restrain  it.  All  other  barriers 
proving  too  feeble,  science  has  conceived  a  moral  restraint 
as  favorable  to  vice,  as  Christian  continence  is  favorable  to 
virtue.  Never  cease  to  contemplate  these  deplorable  errors 
which  God  has  permitted  in  order  to  render  your  faith  more 
dear  and  venerable  to  you.  St.  Paul  has  said  to  a  small 
number  of  the  elect,  '  In  that  which  concerns  virgins  I  give 
you  only  advice.'  Heavenly  souls,  sufficiently  courageous  to 
follow  him,  have  been  blessed  by  Jesus  Christ :  but  the  Sa- 
viour required  to  add,  '  Far  from  all  being  able  to  raise 
themselves  to  that  perfection,  all  are  not  even  able  to  com- 
prehend it.'  The  Church  authorizes  none  to  embrace  it,  but 
after  long  and  severe  trials.  A  science,  altogether  material, 
announces  to  men  that  this  voluntary  chastity  was  a  crime 
against  society,  because  it  deprived  the  state  of  citizens.  In 
vain  innumerable  virgins,  angels  of  innocence  and  goodness, 
have  consoled  the  poor,  have  formed  the  Christian  life  in  the 
mind  of  childhood,  have  appeased  Heaven  by  their  prayers 
and  by  their  touching  expiations,  and  have  offered  sublime 
examples  to  all ;  in  vain  legions  of  virgin  apostles  have  be- 
stowed new  sentiments  of  peace  and  charity  upon  the 
Catholic  nations,  and  brought  unknown  virtues  to  life  in 
their  bosom;  an  impure  philosophy  comes  to  proclaim  that 
these  sacred  ties,  the  source  of  so  many  benefits,  must  be 
replaced  by  bonds  less  perfect;  and  now  she  says  to  the 
beings  whom  she  has  freed  from  all  moral  laws,  intoxicated 
with  sensual  sensations  and  heaped  together  in  one  place^ 

VOL.  I.  6 


62  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

without  distinction  of  sex,  Thou  shalt  not  form  a  family. 
She  says  this  precisely  to  those  whose  passions  she  has  ren. 
dered  most  precocious,  and  to  whom  a  legitimate  union  is 
most  necessary  for  resisting  seductions  which  might  pervert 
angels. 

"  We  scarcely  dare  to  point  out  to  you  a  maxim  still  more 
perverse.  Other  sophists  have  comprehended  tiie  impossi- 
bility of  such  a  restraint ;  but  in  giving  that  up,  they  have 
dared  to  counsel  Christian  spouses  to  cheat  the  desire  of 
nature,  and  to  throw  back  into  nothingness  those  beings 
whom  God  calls  to  existence. 

"  Oh,  Saviour  God  !  who  has  sanctified  the  love  of  marriage 
by  bestowing  on  it  indissolubility,  unity,  and  primitive 
purity,  I  bless  Thee.  I  bless  Thee,  also,  for  having  conse- 
crated the  vows  of  virgins,  and  filled  with  grace  a  life  which 
raises  itself  above  the  earth,  only  to  draw  down  the  bless- 
ings of  Heaven.  I  bless  Thee  for  having  found  even  in  the 
outrages  of  an  impious  philosophy  the  justification  of  Thy 
holy  Gospel.  Since  she  has  disclosed  her  infamous  doctrines, 
Thou  art  avenged  but  too  completely  of  her  blasphemies 
against  Thy  angelic  counsels."^ 

However,  in  the  eyes  of  modern  authorities  the  monks 
were  not  only  guilty  of  abstracting  themselves  from  the  duty 
of  reproduction,  and  of  refusing  to  give  life  to  others;  their 
own  life  was  useless  to  the  world  and  their  kind. 

At  this  present  time,  and  in  view  of  the  results,  each  more 
unlooked  for  than  the  other,  of  recent  historical  studies,  there 
is  not  one,  perhaps,  among  men  who  pretend  to  any  authority 
whatever  in  the  realm  of  knowledge,  who  would  put  his 
name  to  such  an  assertion.  But  we  know  too  well  how  it  is 
still  repeated  in  the  lower  classes  of  literature ;  it  counts  for 
something  in  that  false  coin  of  knowledge  which  is  current 
among  the  immensemajority  of  the  so-called  enlightened  men  of 
our  days.  We  send  back  these  blind  sages,  with  confidence,  to 
the  study  of  the  monuments  wdiich  they  ignore,  of  the  books 
which  they  have  never  opened.  We  defy  them  to  find  a 
country,  an  age,  or  a  society,  in  which  the  direct  and  positive 
practical  utility  of  the  monks  has  not  been  written  in  incon- 
testable hues,  as  long  as  their  hands  were  free,  and  before 
the  commende  (which  was  the  crime  of  kings,  not  of  monks) 
had  come  to  perpetuate  enervation  and  disorder  in  their 
ranks.     We  say  nothing  further  here  of  the  supreme  utility, 

®  Instruction  Pastorale  de  Myr  V  Archeveqtte  de  Paris  (Mgr  Dtinis  Affre). 
upon  the  connection  of  charity  with  faith ;  March,  1843. 


INTRODUCTION.  63 

in  the  eyes  of  eveiy  consistent  Christian,  of  prayer,  and  a 
lite  hidden  in  God  ;  nothing  of  that  powerful  and  constant 
intercession,  always  hovering  between  heaven  and  earth,  for 
the  salvation  and  the  peace  of  men  ;  nothing  of  the  immense 
and  beneficent  influence  of  monastic  peace  upon  men  of  war 
and  of  business,  of  its  virtue  upon  the  passions,  of  its  solitude 
upon  the  age.  No,  we  descend  from  that  sphere  of  too  lofty 
reality  to  place  ourselves  on  a  level  with  those  who  keep 
their  eyes  always  cast  down  towards  the  earth,  alwa3^a 
absorbed  in  whatever  is  to  pass  away  or  to  bring  profit.  We 
invite  them  to  instance  in  the  annals  of  the  world,  a  body,  an 
institution,  any  organization  whatever,  which  can  bear  even 
a  distant  comparison  with  the  monasteries  which  were,  for 
ten  centuries  and  more,  the  schools,  the  archives,  the  libra- 
ries, the  hostelries,  the  studios,  the  penitentiaries,  and  the 
hospitals  of  Christian  society.  And  when  they  refer  us  to 
those  times,  in  which  the  religious  orders  estranged  them- 
selves almost  entirely  from  the  political,]iterary,  and  external 
life  of  the  world,  and  which,  for  the  very  reason  that  thev 
were  thus  concentrated  more  and  more  in  themselves,  should 
have  drawn  to  them  the  indulgent  toleration  of  the  masters 
of  the  new  world,  we  answer  with  the  great  writer,  who, 
upon  so  many  points,  has  reopened  tons  the  gates  of  historic 
truth :  *'  Whoever  is  able  to  subdue  human  will  without 
degrading  human  nature,  has  rendered  to  society  a  service 
beyond  price,  in  freeing  government  from  the  care  of  watch- 
ing over  these  men,  of  employing  them,  and  above  all,  of 
paying  them.  There  has  never  been  a  happier  idea  than 
that  of  uniting  pacific  citizens,  who  labored,  prayed,  studied, 
wrote,  cultivated  the  ground,  and  asked  nothing  from  those  in 
author  itif  J' "^ 

Modern  governments  ought  to  comprehend  this,  although 
none  have  yet  confessed  it ;  and  to  those  who  assure  them 
that  the  modest  and  peaceable  independence  of  the  monk, 
and  that  satisfaction  with  his  lot,  which  it  will  soon  be  im- 
possible to  find,  are  the  fruits  of  superstition  and  fanaticism, 
more  than  one  statesman  might  be  tempted  to  respond : 
Restore  us  this  tree  which  bears  fruits  of  such  a  lost  species  ! 

"  The  whole  aim  of  man  is  to  be  happy,"  says  Bossuet ; 
*'  place  happiness  where  it  ought  to  be,  and  it  is  the  source 
of  all  good  ;  but  the  source  of  all  evil  is  to  place  it  where  it 
ought  not  to  be."     But,  here  are  myriads  of  men,  who,  from 

'  Count  db  Maistre,  Du  Pape,  p.  436. 


64  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

age  to  age,  succeed  each  otlier  in  declaring  themselves  happy 
and  contejit  with  their  lot.  And  we  proclaim  them  useless; ! 
As  if  the  world  could  have  anything  more  useful  than  happi- 
ness; as  if  universal  happiness  was  not  exclusively  composed 
of  that  of  individuals;  as  if  each  individual  who  calls  and 
believes  himself  happy,  and  who  is  so,  without  taking  any- 
thing from  his  neighbor,  or  envying  any  man.  whoever  he 
may  be,  was  not  in  himself  alone  an  inappreciable  element 
of  social  prosperity  !  No  matter,  all  this  happiness^  must  dis- 
appear ;  it  must  be  proscribed  and  sacrificed ;  it  must  be 
extended  upon  the  Procrustean  bed  of  a  pretended  public 
utility,  defined,  modified,  travestied  by  emulous  theorists,  as 
pitiless  as  they  are  powerless,  but  insane  enough  to  believe 
themselves  invested  with  the  right  of  constraining  human 
nature,  and  of  exercising  sovereign  rule  over  the  vocations, 
the  inclinations,  and  the  preferences  of  their  fellow-creatures. 
Be  it  well  understood,  besides,  that  this  insupportable 
tyranny  applies  itself  only  to  good,  never  to  evil ;  and  that  it 
imposes  upon  virtue,  upon  prayer,  upon  holy  retirement, 
such  a  yoke  and  fetters  as  no  enlightened  legislator  has  ever 
dreamt  of  imposing  upon  vice,  idleness,  or  dissipation. 

But  they  persist,  and  add,  The  monks  were  indolent.  Is  it 
so  indeed  !  Such,  then,  was  the  vice  of  those  men  who,  by 
unanimous  admission,  have  with  their  own  hands  cleared  the 
soil  of  half  the  Western  world,  and  whose  laborious  vigils 
have  preserved  to  us  all  the  works  of  ancient  literature  and 
the  monuments  often  centuries  of  our  history.  The  monks 
indolent !  But  of  all  the  monks,  the  most  ancient  and  the 
most  numerous  were  the  Benedictines;  and  that  name  has 
become,  even  in  vulgar  speech,  the  type  and  the  synonyme 
of  serious,  modest,  and  indefatigable  labor.  The  monks 
indolent  !  But  who,  then,  if  not  the  monks,  have  borne  the 
burden  and  heat  of  the  day  in  all  the  missions  to  the  East  and 
to  America,  in  the  persecuted  Christendoms  of  Europe,  in 
the  work  of  redeeming  captives,  in  the  strife  against  here- 
sies and  immorality,  and  even  in  the  spiritual  administration 
of  the  most  Catholic  nations  ?  It  would  be  well  to  see  those 
who  have  been  most  lavish  of  this  reproach  upon  the  monks, 
confined  for  a  single  day  to  that  life  of  incessant  fatigue,  of 
disgusts,  of  privations,  of  vigils,  and  journeys,  which  is  the 
portion  of  the  least  of  the  missionaries  or  the  most  obscure 
of  the  confessors  which  the  monastic  orders  furnish  to  the 
Church  ! 

The  indolence  of  the  monks  !     Can  it  be  possible  that  this 


INTRODUCTION.  65 

refers  to  those  monks,  few  in  number,  who  devote  them- 
selves exclusively  to  a  life  of  contemplation?  —  to  the 
anchorites,  these  emulators  of  the  Fathers  of  the  desert,  who, 
having  leaint  to  content  themselves  with  necessaries  more 
scanty  even  than  those  required  by  the  most  miserable 
laborer,  certainly  believe  themselves  entitled  to  give  to  their 
soul  the  time,  strength,  and  nourishment,  of  wliich,  by  a 
superhuman  courage,  they  have  deprived  their  flesh? 

We  have  already  answered,  that  for  every  Christian, 
prayer  is  the  most  legitimate  and  useful  labor;  to  contest 
that  truth  is  not  simply  to  deny  the  principles  of  the  Monas- 
tic Order,  but  the  fundamental  basis  of  religion  altogether. 
We  shall  add  that  always,  and  everywhere,  the  cenobites  who 
have  been  most  laithful  to  the  rules  of  mortification  and  to 
the  spiritual  life,  are  precisely  those  who,  like  the  Trappists 
of  our  own  day,  have  obtained  the  most  marvellous  results 
in  agricultuie,  or,  like  the  Jesuits,  are  the  most  devoted  to 
education,  to  the  sciences,  and  to  all  mental  labors. 

The  reproach  of  indolence  can  then  be  addressed,  with  an 
appearance  of  justice,  only  to  those  among  the  monks  — 
Benedictines  or  others  —  who,  having  inherited  the  posses- 
sions with  which  the  industry  of  their  predecessors  or  the 
generosity  of  the  faithful  had  endowed  their  monasteries, 
lived  there  in  ease  and  leisure. 

We  must  indeed  admit  that,  especially  in  the  later  times, 
their  primitive  strength  being  lamentably  lessened  by  the 
abuses  of  the  commende  (which  shall  be  discussed  further  on 
without  reserve),  indolence  did  glide  into  more  than  one 
monastery.  But  that  was  a  crime  which  should  be  laid  to 
their  charge  before  God,  and  not  before  men.  Besides,  t>ucli 
a  reproach  cannot  be  raised  without  re-descending  with  all 
its  weight  upon  its  authoi's,  nor  even  without  menacing  the 
entire  mass  of  civil  society.  Have  all  these  severe  critics 
examined  themselves  on  this  score?  Are  the}'  all  confident 
of  escaping  the  accusation  which  they  lavish  upon  others  ? 
The  politicians,  the  philosophers,  the  men  of  letters,  who 
declaim  against  the  idleness  of  the  monks,  ai'e  they  always 
such  laborious  and  productive  citizens?  Have  not  they  too 
already  beheld,  in  tumult  bcneaih  them,  a  greedy  crowd 
which  throws  upon  them  in  their  turn  the  epithet  of  idle? 
What  right  has  the  world  to  account  their  fortune  and  their 
leisure  a  crime  to  the  monks  more  than  to  all  the  other  rich  and 
free  proprietors  of  our  age  or  of  any  age  ?  Whatever  the 
abuses  of  the  Monastic  Order  might  be  —  and  again  «>c  repeaJ 
6* 


56  THE    MONKS    OE    THE  WEST. 

that  we  shall  conceal  none  of  them  —  they  were  specially  re- 
sponsible  for  them  towards  the  Church.  They  could,  without 
much  fear,  defy  the  lay  society  of  all  ages  to  show  many  rich 
men  more  active  and  more  usefully  occupied  than  they.  Up 
to  the  time  of  our  recent  Socialist  follies,  the  world  has  not 
assumed  the  right  of  demanding  from  him  who  reaps  the 
harvests  of  a  field  long  labored  and  fertilized,  the  same 
energy  as  was  necessary  to  him  who  first  brought  it  under 
cultivation.  On  the  contrary,  all  societies  and  legislatures 
have  endeavored  to  stimulate  human  activity  by  promising 
to  parents  that  their  industr}^,  sweat,  and  fatigue,  should 
resnlt  in  the  leisure,  ease,  and  well-being  of  their  ofi'spring. 
It  is  by  this  means  alone  that  the  desire  and  pursuit  of  prop- 
erty is  free  from  the  charge  of  selfishness.  By  what  right 
do  we  apply  a  different  rule  to  the  monks  ?  The  peace  and 
comfort  which  they  enjoyed  even  in  the  midst  of  their  spirit- 
ual decadence  was  the  product  of  the  labors  and  sweat  of 
their  spiritual  ancestors  —  the  most  legitimate  and  unassaila- 
ble inheritance  that  ever  existed.  The  Church  alone  could 
and  ought  to  stigmatize  here  that  capital  sin  which  religion 
every  wljere  interdicts.  We  say  without  fear  that  this,  which 
is  called  indolence  among  the  monks,  is  simply  that  which  is 
called  leisure  among  the  wealthy  ;  society  has  no  more  right 
to  punish  one  than  the  other  with  civil  death  and  the  confis- 
cation of  his  goods. 

But  further,  we  are  told,  the  monks  were  not  only  rich  — 
they  were  too  rich  !  Yes,  certainly,  there  were  communities 
of  extreme  opulence,  and  this  was  one  great  cause  of  decay 
and  corruption:  1  admit  it  freely.  The  Church,  remaining 
faithful  to  the  intentions  of  the  founders,  had  there  a  legiti- 
mate cause  of  intervention  for  the  better  division  and  more 
useful  employment  of  monastic  wealth.  But  was  this  a  rea- 
son  for  its  appropriation  to  the  profit  of  the  State?  No,  a 
thousand  times,  no !  And  who  can  venture  to  raise  such  a 
complaint  from  the  midst  of  modern  society,  in  which  wealth, 
henceforward  to  be  the  only  distinction  and  sole  evidence  of 
social  importance,  has  naturally  become  the  object  of  covet- 
ousness  less  restrained,  and  more  rapacious  desire  than  at 
any  other  epoch?  Too  rich  !  but  what  human  authority  is 
entitled  to  fix  the  limit  at  which  excessive  wealth  com- 
mences, or  to  trace  boundaries  to  property  legitimately  ac- 
quired? It  is  religion  alone  which  can  distinguish  here  the 
necessary  from  the  superfluous,  and  determine  on  a  fit  desti- 
nation for  that  superfluity  ;   and  yet,  by  a  revolting  wicked- 


INTRODUCTION.  G7 

ness,  it  is  against  herself  only,  against  the  sacred  weakness 
of  the  Church,  that  men  have  systematically  violated  the 
rights  of  property.  The  Church  alone  had  a  right  to  say 
that  the  monks  had  too  much  wealth  ;  we  can  say  only  that 
they  were  rich,^  and  we  can  justify  their  fortune  in  two 
words,  by  its  origin  and  its  employment. 

As  for  its  emploj'ment,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  most  pal- 
pable abuses  and  complete  enervation,  that  can  still  be  con- 
centrated in  one  word,  charity  !  —  a  charity  wliich  has  never 
been  questioned  and  never  equalled.  Upon  this  point,  be- 
fore refuting  the  objectors,  let  us  wait  for  what  they  advance. 

But  this  fortune  is  specially  justified  by  its  origin.  We 
can  affirm,  without  fear,  that  never  pi'operty  had  an  origin  as 
legitimate,  as  holy,  and  as  inviolable  as  the  monastic  posses- 
sions. They  proceeded  entirely  from  the  generosity  of  the 
faithful,  fructified  by  the  labor  of  the  monks.  It  is  the  only 
property,  taken  altogether,  which  has  had  its  origin  in  the 
most  noble  actr  of  man  ;  the  gift,  the  pure  and  free  gill  of 
love,  gratitude,  or  faith.^ 

"  Can  it  chance  to  be,"  says  a  celebrated  statesman  of  our 
days,  little  suspected  of  partiality  or  complaisance  for  the  re- 
ligious orders  — ''  can  it  chance  to  be  that  you  intend  to  reg- 
ulate the  employment  of  my  goods  to  such  an  extent  that  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  use  them  in  the  manner  most  agreeable 
to  me  ?  After  having  accorded  to  me  the  physical  enjoyment 
of  property,  is  it  possible  that  you  can  refuse  me  the  moral 

^  Further,  to  be  just,  much  that  has  been  said  of  the  wealth  of  religious 
orders  in  general  should  be  corrected.  The  greater  majority  of  these  orders, 
at  the  time  of  their  suppression,  were,  on  the  contrary,  poor :  tlie  mendicant 
orders,  the  most  numerous  of  all,  lived,  as  their  name  indicates,  by  alms  and 
endowments  limited  enough.  The  regular  clergy,  sucii  as  the  Theatiiis, 
Barnabites,  &c.,  founded  since  the  sixteenth  century,  and  the  secular  congre- 
gations, had  scarcely  anj'  territorial  endowments.  There  were  none  truly  rich 
but  the  ancient  orders  of  monks,  properly  so  called,  such  as  the  Benedictines 
and  Cistercians ;  and  even  among  these  there  were  monasteries  extremely 
poor  from  the  first,  and  impoverished,  especially  by  the  commende.  In  the 
bosom  of  these  same  orders  the  reformed  congregations  signalized  tliemselves 
by  the  honorable  moderation  of  tlieir  incomes.  After  the  inquiry  into  the 
property  of  the  congregatien  of  St.  Maur,  made  in  1682  by  the  famous  lieut- 
enant-general of  police  La  Reynie,  every  Benedictine  returned  the  income  of 
437  livres  and  some  sous;  this  was  still  less  than  the  modest  GOO  livres  to 
which  we  have  remarked  every  Jesuit  confined  himself.  Tliere  is  not  at  this 
time  an  undergraduate  or  unmarried  supernumerary  who  does  not  claim  from 
Government  and  society  a  salary  two  or  three  times  greater. 

*  Unjust  donations,  injurious  or  excessive,  might  sometimes  occur,  but 
nothing  is  more  rare ;  we  could  not  quote  one  example  out  of  a  thousand. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  tlie  heirs,  whose  consent  was  always  requisite  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  for  the  validity  of  donations  which  concerned  territorial  domains, 
refused  their  compliance  :  and  this  opposition  involved  the  nullity  of  the  act 


68  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

enjoyments,  the  most  noble,  the  raost  exquisite,  the  most  use 
ful  of  all  ?  What  then  !  odious  legislator,  you  will  permit  me 
to  consume,  to  dissipate,  to  destroy  ray  possessions,  but  you 
will  not  permit  me  to  bestow  them  on  whom  I  please  !  For 
me,  for  mj'self  alone,  see  the  melancholy  end  which  you  as- 
sign to  the  painful  efforts  of  my  life  ?  Thus  you  would  de- 
base, you  Avould  disenchant,  you  would  arrest  my  labors. 
...  To  give  is  the  noblest  mode  of  using  property.  It  is, 
]  repeat,  the  moral  enjoyment  added  to  the  physical."  ^^ 

But  the  proprietors  of  old  were  not  moved  only  by  the 
idea  of  enjoyment.  They  believed  themselves  obHged  to 
protect  their  property  before  God  and  man,  purifying  it  by 
sacrifice.  Christians  of  all  ranks  and  times  have  indeed  given, 
and  given  much  to  the  monasteries;  and  while  they  enriched 
one,  they  did  not  cease  to  nourish  and  raise  up  others.  That 
miunificence  was  neither  unreflecting  nor  blind  ;  it  was,  on 
the  contrary,  the  fruit  of  a  calculation,  but  of  a  calculation 
most  just  and  noble.  The  Catholic  nations  repeated  to  the 
monks  during  twelve  centuries,  those  beautiful  and  simple 
words  by  which,  in  the  baseness  of  the  Lower  Empire,  St. 
John  the  Almoner  endowed  the  two  monasteries  founded  by 
him  at  Alexandria.  "  I  shall  provide,  after  God,  for  the  ne- 
cessities of  your  bodies  :  and  do  you  provide  for  the  necessi- 
ties of  my  soul."  ^^  Five  hundred  years  later,  at  the  other 
extremity  of  Christian  society,  it  is  thus  that  one  of  the  great 
feudal  chiefs  expresses  in  two  lines  the  motives  of  feudal 
munificence  —  "  1,  William,  Count  of  Poitou,  and  Duke  of  all 
Aquitaine,  transfer  from  my  hand,  into  the  hand  of  St.  Peter 
of  Cluny,  this  Church  which,  God  helping,  I  have  freed  and 
snatched  from  lay  usurpation  :  — and  1  make  this  gift  because 

'"  He  adds  —  "  For  the  rest,  judge  of  the  fact  by  the  consequences.  I 
said  to  you  elsewhere,  that  if  every  miin  threw  himself  upon  his  neighbor  to 
rob  hini  of  his  food,  which  the  latter  leplaced  at  the  cost  of  another,  society 
would  soon  be  a  mere  theatre  of  pillage  instead  of  work.  Suppose,  on  the 
contrary,  that  every  man  who  has  much,  gave  to  him  who  had  not  enough, 
the  world  would  become  a  tlieatre  of  benevolence  :  do  not  fear,  however,  that 
man  will  go  too  far  in  this  putli,  and  render  his  neighbor  idle  by  burdening 
himself  with  his  work.  The  benevolence  which  exists  in  the  heart  of  man  is 
barely  on  a  level  willi  human  miseries,  and  it  is  well  if  incessant  discourses 
on  iiiorali  y  and  religion  succei  d  i:i  equalling  the  remedy  to  the  evil,  the  balm 
ti)  ihe  wound.  '■  —  Thiers,  JJe  la  Propriete,  Look  i.  c.  8,  "  That  tlie  power  of 
l.estowal  is  one  of  the  U'ce^sary  rights  of  property,  1848."  Tlie  autlior  is  so 
much  the  less  to  be  su>pected  that  he  only  sees  in  monastic  life  "  Christian 
suicide  substituted  for  i'agan  siucide."  —  Book  ii.  c   6. 

"  "Ego  post  Deum  uiilitatem  vestram  corporaleni  procurabo,  vos  autem 
spiritiialis  liahetoie  lueaicuramsalutis."  —  Ap.  Maisill  ,  Fraf.  iv.  scec.  Bened., 
It.  ti>J. 


INTRODUCTION.  69 

I  remember  my  sins,  and  because  I  would  tliat  God  might 
forget  them."  ^^ 

In  bestowing  gifts  upon  the  monks,  the  Christians  o<f  old 
gave,  in  the  first  place,  to  God,  and  next  to  the  poor  —  for 
we  all  know  that  the  monks  were  the  almoners  of  Christian- 
ity. They  gave  up  their  superfluous  wealth,  and  sometimes 
even  necessaries,  in  obedience'to  the  two  most  exalted  mo- 
tives of  life  —  the  salvation  of  the  soul  and  the  consolation 
of  the  poor  —  the  love  of  God  and  the  love  of  man. 

If  we  would  retrace  the  history  of  the  most  generous  in- 
stincts and  pure  emotions  which  have  ever  moved  the  human 
heart,  it  could  be  done  with  ease  ;  we  need  only  transcribe 
the  preambles  of  the  acts  of  foundation  and  donation  wliich 
have  established  monastic  property. ^^  Tliere,  all  the  affec- 
tions and  all  the  sorrows  of  man  appear  in  turn  to  be  sancti- 
fied, purified,  and  made  immortal ;  devotion  towards  God,  to- 
wards His  mother,  towards  His  saints  ;  adoration  and  humility, 
repentance  and  gratitude  ;  love,  conjugal,  filial,  and  paternal, 
the  love  of  one's  neighbor  in  all  the  inexhaustible  variety  of 
its  inspirations,  and  above  all,  tlie  desire  of  contributing  to 
the  salvation  of  those  who  have  been  beloved  on  ea'th,  and 
of  rejoining  them  in  heaven.  In  public  and  solemn  acts,  de- 
signed to  remove  all  suspicion  of  fraudulent  or  occult  ma- 
noeuvres, these  generous  Christians  have  enumerated  the 
motives  of  their  sacrifices ;  they  declare  themselves  to  have 
offered  them  sometimes  for  the  expiation  of  a  crime,  ^'^  a  mis- 
fortune, or  an  accident  of  which  they  have  been  the  involun- 
tary cause  ;  sometimes  to  confirm  their  renunciation  of  ill-ac- 
quired wealth,  of  unjust  pretentions,  or  of  inveterate  enmi- 
ties ;  sometimes  to  thank  God  for  a  signal  grace,  for  a  danger 
turned  aside,  for  a  happy  return  from  pilgrimage  or  crusade, 
or  to  draw  down  His  protection  at  the  moment  of  entering 
the  lists  ;  ^^  sometimes,  and  especially  to  sanctity  their  wealth 

"  "  Peccatorum  meorurn  memor,  ut  Deus  fieri  dignetur  immemor.  "  —  Gal- 
lia CJiristiana,  t.  ii.  p.  1094.     Charter  of  January  1081. 

'^  We  shall  see  in  the  course  of  our  narrative  a  thousand  proofs  of  this  as- 
sertion. I  quote  in  the  mean  time  some  few  borrowed  in  part  from  the  excel- 
lent researches  of  Hcktek  on  this  same  subject,  in  his  Histoired'lnnocerA 
ill.,  t.  iii.  p.  430  of  the  German  edition. 

14  "Peccatorum  nostrorum  vulnerihus  cujusdam  medicammis  cauteriam 
adhibere  piain  statuimus."  —  Donation  of  Leopold  of  Austria,  ap.  Mon.  Bote, 
iv.  314. 

'*  "  Milon  Balbe,  of  Til-Chatel,  chevalier  in  1060,  monomachia  ceriaturut 
pitgna,  recommends  himself  to  the  prayers  of  the  monks  of  Beze,  and  gives 
them  his  manor  near,  the  church  of  Lux." —  Dumay,  Appendice  of  Courte 
P£E,  iv.  695. 


70  THE    MONKS    OF    TPIE   WEST. 

and  their  increase  to  the  best  advantage,  by  making  it  profit 
able  to  the  poor  and  to  travellers.^^  They  desired  thus  to 
consecrate  before  the  Lord,  perhaps,  their  resignation  under 
an  incurable  malady  i'' — perhaps  the  foreseen  extinction  of 
an  ancient  and  illustrious  race  ^^  —  perhaps  the  desire  of  re- 
pose after  a  disturbed  life  —  admiration  of  a  picturesque  or 
solitary  site  —  the  choice  of  a  family  sepulchre  ^^  —  above 
all,  the  memory  of  a  long  line  of  ancestors,  of  a  wife  faith- 
fully cherished,  "^^  of  a  child  prematurely  taken  away,  or  even 
of  a  fliithful  servant  or  follower.  ^^  Sometimes,  also,  they  de- 
signed that  offering  for  the  salvation  of  one  loved  unlawfully 
and  beyond  measure,  but  whom  the  Ghui-ch  had  not  forbid- 
den them  to  cherish  beyond  the  tomb.  It  was  thus  that  Phil- 
ip Augustus  endowed  a  convent  of  a  hundred  and  twenty 
nuns  near  the  tomb  of  Agnes  de  Meranie. 

Thus,  from  every  page  of  these  annals  of  feudal  generos- 
ity, rises  some  monument  of  the  mysteries  of  divine  mercy, 
of  liuman  grief,  and  Christian  virtue  :  and  we  perceive,  be- 
sides, how  the  motives  of  donation  became  unceasingly  mo- 
tives of  conversion,  and  how  often  a  man  who  had  com- 
menced by  giving  to  God  his  lands  and  possessions,  finished 
by  the  offering  of  himself. 

The  munificence  of  kings  assured  the  existence  of  these 
grand  and  royal  abbeys,  such  as  St.  Germain-des-Pres,  St. 
Denys,  the  Mont-Cassin,  Cluny,  Canterbur}-,  Westminster, 
Haritecombe,  which  served  at  once  for  archives,  for  sanctu- 
ary, and  for  the  sepulture  of  dynasties.  Others  w^ere  re- 
garded as  the  special  patrimony  of  certain  noble  races,  which, 
from  father  to  son,  they  believed  themselves  obliged  to  main- 
tain and  enrich,  and   in  which  each  exploit,  each  alliance, 

'®  "  In  usum  iianperum  et  peregrinnrum."  —  Ap.  Digby,  x.  63fi.  "  Centu- 
plam  meicedem  a  Deo  expectantes."  —  Vogt.  Indec  Monum.  Verdens.,  ii.  248. 

"  "  Cnni  ex  iniquitate  mea  devenerim  ad  niorbum  incurabileni  gratias  ago 
Deo  meo." —  Gall.  Chj-ist.  Inst.  Eccl.  Senecens.,  n.  vii.,  ap.  Hurt.,  iii.  456. 

"  "  Cum  Deus  oninipotens  fructu  ventris  neseio  quo  suo  occulto  jndicio 
me  privasset,  mei  patrimonii  haeredem  constituens  Cruoifixum." — Chron. 
Zweliens.,  i.  245. 

"*  '■  Quoniodo  multi  principum  et  nobilium  tubani  extremam  liic  pausando 
praeelegerunt  expcetari."  —  A  Weingarten  :  see  Hess.  Monum  Giielf.,  p.  197. 

21)  a  Pj.q  salute  Mathildse,  sponsae  mese."  —  Monast.  Anglic,  p.  1034.  "  In 
refrigeriuni  animae  suae  et  suorum."  —  Langebeck,  SS.  iv.  355.  "  Dederunt 
pro  anima  matris  suae  bona  memoriai."  —  A  Gottesgnade  ap.  Leukfeld. 

"'  In  1278,  thirty  livres  were  bequeathed  to  tiie  Abbot  of  Settim  and  hi8 
Cistercian  monks,  near  Florence,  by  the  Countess  Beatrice,  daughter  of 
Count  Rodolf  of  C'apraja,  and  widow  of  Count  Marcovaldo,  '■^  per  V anima  di 
donna  Giuliana,  la  quale  fu  mia  cameriera."  —  Lami.  J/ojimot.  della  Chiest 
Fiorentina,  i.  75,  ap.  Cantu,  Storia  degV  Italiani. 


INTRODUCTION.  71 

each  deg-ree  of  their  genealogy,  each  death,  was  commemo- 
rated by  new  gifts.  A  similar  conviction  discloses  itself,  and 
beams  like  a  luminous  torch  across  all  that  ocean  of  munifi- 
cence which  inundated  the  monastic  institutions  daring  the 
Catholic  ages.  "  Give  me."  said  St.  Eloy  to  his  master,  "  this 
site,  that  I  may  construct  there  a  ladder  by  which  you  and  I 
shall  mount  to  the  celestial  kingdom."  ^^  Six  centuries  later, 
upon  the  shores  of  the  Baltic,  the  same  thought  is  reproduced 
in  the  same  terms  —  a  Count  d'Orlamunde,  in  enduwing  a 
monastery  in  Hamburg,  inscribed  this  axiom  upon  its  charter 
of  foundation :  ''  He  Avho  erects  or  repairs  a  monastery 
builds  himself  a  stair  to  ascend  to  heaven."  ^^  And  at  the 
same  period,  one  of  the  chiefs  of  the  Norman  nobility,  then 
masters  of  England,  the  Count  of  Chester,  saw  in  a  dream 
his  ancestor,  who  pointed  out  to  him  one  of  his  domains,  say- 
ing: '' Here  must  be  erected  a  ladder  by  which  the  angels 
shall  ascend  every  day  to  carry  men's  prayers  to  God,  and 
descend  with  His  blessings."  ^  Enlightened  by  the  infallible 
light  of  the  Gospel,  they  perceived  that  their  inheritance,  of 
which  they  thus  despoiled  themselves  for  God,  was  that  which 
did  them  most  honor  and  endured  the  best.  They  believed 
as  tlie  Emperor  Frederick  II.  believed,  when  he  wrote  at  the 
head  of  one  of  his  charters  this  noble  thought:  '-In  the 
midst  of  the  universal  decay  of  human  things,  man  can  al- 
ways snatch  from  time  something  that  is  stable  and  perpetual 
—  namely,  that  which  he  gives  to  God  :  he  thus  links  bis  ter- 
restrial patrimony  to  the  patrimony  of  God."  ^5 

But  kings  and  nobles  had  no  monopoly  of  this  inexhaust- 
ible liberality.  The  Christian  people,  sancta i^lebs  Dei,  claimed 
and  exercised  in  their  turn  the  right  of  giving  to  God  and  to 
the  saints,  and  of  mingling  their  offerings  with  those  of  their 
superiors.  The  most  insignificant  gift,  coming  from  the  hum- 
blest hand,  to  immortalize  the  benefit  and  the  benefactor  — 

"^  "  Hane  niihi,  dornine  mi  rex,  serenitas  tna  concedat,  quo  possim  ibi, 
et  tibi  et  roihi  scalani  construere,  perquam  mereamur  ad  coelestia  regna  uter- 
qu('  c-onsccnd'jre."  —  St.  Addoeni,   Vit.  S.  Eligii,  i.  15. 

*^  '•  Qui  claustra  construit  vel  delapsa  reparat  coeluni  ascensurus  scalatn 
sibi  facit."  —  A  p.  Hurter,  t.  iv.  p.  450. 

2*  •'  l]rigenda  est  scala  per  quam  descendant  et  ascendunt  angelorum 
preces,  et  vota  hominura  Deo  otferentur  et  referant  gratiam."  —  Monast. 
Anglican.,  t.  i.  p.  890. 

^*  '-Etsi  omnia  caduca  sunt  homimim  et  temporum  diuturnitate  labuntur, 
sunt  tamen  ex  hominibus  aliqua  perpetua  stabilitate  connexa,  ilia  videlicet, 
quae  divinis  addita  cultibus,  bsereditatis  Dei  funiculum  inter  homines  am- 
plectuntur."  —  Pirro,  Sicilia  Sacra.  Priorat.  Messan.,  p.  1096.  Ap.  Hurter, 
lii.  455. 


72  THE   MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

the  offering  of  the  poor,  of  the  serf,  of  the  widow,  and  of  the 
beggar —  \vas  registered  in  the  daily  prayer  of  tlie  monkb, 
and  immortalized  in  their  annals,  side  by  side  with  the  mag- 
nificent foundations  of  princes  and  lords.  "  Mathilde  has 
given  us  a  vineyard  ;  Barbe,  a  lay  woman,  has  given  a  table- 
cloth ;  Ala'ide  has  given  a  calf  "^^ —  thus  we  read  in  the  Ne- 
crology of  Lorsch,  amidst  the  evidences  of  the  generosity 
and  grandeur  of  the  Carlovingians.  And  when  Croyland,  the 
f  rincipal  monastery  in  England,  had  been  burned  down  in 
1091,  and  rebuilt,  thanks  to  the  gifts  of  the  Norman  nobility, 
the  Abbott  Ingulph  was  careful  to  enter  in  his  Chronicle, 
which  is  one  of  the  most  important  historical  monuments  of 
rhe  time  :  "  Among  so  many  benefactors,  let  us  not  forget  the 
hoi}'  memory  of  Juliana,  the  beggar  of  Weston,  who,  in  her 
misery,  gave  us  all  that  she  could,  and  all  that  she  had  — 
namely,    twisted    thread    to    sew    the    vestments    of    our 


monks. 


11  27 


Great  and  small  tlius  confirm  the  truth  of  the  definiti(jn 
which  a  Council  has  given  of  the  possessions  of  the  Church, 
and  more  especially  of  monastic  possessions  :  *'  They  are  the 
offering  of  the  faithful,  the  patrimony  of  the  poor,  and  the 
ransom  of  souls." 

It  is  thus,  then,  that  the  treasure  of  the  monks  has  been 
formed  —  these  are  their  titles  of  possession.  No  family,  no 
state,  no  individual  has  ever  possessed  titles  more  glorious 
or  more  legitimate. 

Such  is,  however,  the  wickedness  and  blind  perversity  of 
man,  unfaithful  to  the  law  of  salvation,  that  of  all  human 
property,  the  only  one  which  has  been  everywhere  attacked, 
everywhere  calumniated,  and,  in  our  own  days,  everywhere 
suppressed,  is  monastic  property  !  Kingdoms  and  republics, 
autocrats  and  demagogues,  you  have  preserved  and  conse- 
crated the  spoliations  of  force,  the  triumphs  of  speculation ; 
and  you  have  confiscated  the  fruits  of  sacrifice,  the  gifts  of 
repentance,  the  legacy  of  grief;  you  have  annihilated  the 
works  created  by  two  things  which,  when  they  arc  pure,  are 
the  loveliest  in  the  world  —  freedom  and  love! 

ao  '•  jviatbilrlis  dedit  nobis  vinenm;  Barba  laica  dedit  nobis  mappam ; 
Alheidis  dedit  vituluiu."  —  Necrol.  Lauresli.  in  Schannat.  Vindict.,  tit.  vii. 
■«i.  1,  aj).  HuRTicK.  iii.  477. 

■»  i.  '^^,Q  ublivionem  patiatur,  inter  tot  benefnctores  pauperculae  Julianse  de 
Westuna  sancta  nicniuiia,  qua^  dedit  nobis  de  sua  inopia  totum  victum  suuni, 
scilicet,  filum  retortuin  in  sunima  magna  ad  consuendutu  ratrum  nostri 
nionasterii  vesiinicnta."  —  Ingulph.  Ckoyl.  Ap  Gale,  Script.  Rer.  Atiglic, 
t.  i.  p.  99. 


X 


INTRODUCTION.  73 

Heaven  grant  that  this  crime  may  not  be  cruelly  punished  I 
Heaven  grant  that  the  logic  of  spoJiation  may  not  he  carried 
to  its  utmost  conclusions,  and  that  implacable  avengers,  im- 
proving upon  your  example,  may  not  appear  to  envelope 
innocent  and  guilty  in  one  common  proscription,  in  the  name 
of  those  principles  which  had  their  first  victory  in  the  spoli- 
ation of  the  monastic  orders  !  The  sons  of  those  who  des- 
troyed the  monasteries  everywhere,  have  already  learned,  to 
their  cost,  that  of  all  the  arguments  which  have  overthrown 
monastic  property,  there  is  not  one  which  might  not  batter  a 
breach  in  general  property.  This  cannot  be  'sufficiently  kept 
in  mind  ;  they  too,  desperate  and  trembling,  have  seen  men 
rise  before  them  to  demand  their  goods,  throwing  at  their 
head  that  same  name  oi' idlers  with  which  they  had  despoiled 
the  monks.  Are  they  at  the  end  of  their  experiences  and 
chastisements?  Does  not  the  storm  approach  hour  by  hour, 
and  may  we  not  hear  yet  once  more,  surging  up  to  the  gates 
of  modern  palaces,  the  tide  of  that  multitude  which  confounds 
all  property,  ancient  and  modern,  in  a  common  reprobation, 
and  whose  apostles  have  declared  that  leisure  was  a  crime 
against  society,  and  property  a  theft? 


CHAPTER    711. 

DECLINE. 


Le  mura,  che  solcano  esser  bfidla, 
Fatte  sono  spelonclie,  e  Ic  cocolle 
Sacca  son  piene  di  farina  ria. 

Paradiso,  c.  xxil. 


BtJT  there  is  a  last  and  more  serious  complaint  which  must 
be  traced  without  evasion  —  the  corruption  of  the  religious 
orders.  Great  disorders  and  abuses,  we  are  told,  reigned 
among  the  monks,  especially  in  their  last  times.  So  they 
did.  Yes,  we  confess  it.  They  were  given  up  to  laxnesa 
and  enervation.  Again  we  say,  yes.  They  no  longer  ob- 
served those  laws  of  fervor,  of  austerity,  and  of  discipline, 
which  were  the  implicit  condition  of  the  liberal  gifts  with 
which  they  had  been  overwhelmed.  In  one  word,  they  were 
in  full  decline.     Yes,  it  is  but  too  true  ;  save  some  glorious 

VOL.  I.  7 


74  TPIE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

exceptions  —  such  as  the  Chartreux,  the  Trappists,  and  tha 
Jesuits  —  the  Religious  were  in  decadence  at  the  moment 
when  they  were  reached  by  the  devastating  scythe  of  the 
past  century  and  of  our  own  time. 

I  do  not  evade  this  charge.  1  admit  and  confirm  it.  I 
even  dare  to  believe  that  there  is  none  among  the  enemies 
of  the  monks  who  has  studied  more  attentively  than  myself 
these  disorders  and  abuses,  no  one  who  has  dwelt  longer 
upon  the  dark  side  of  an  admirable  history.  I  know  these 
abuses,  I  confess  them  ;  and  what  is  more,  I  shall  narrate 
thera.  Yes,  if  God  permits  me  to  continue  my  work,  I  shall 
relate  thera  with  unmitigated  sincerity,  and  henceforward  in 
the  pages  which  you  arc  about  to  read,  wherever  occasion 
presents,  I  shall  show  the  evil  beside  the  good,  the  shadow  be- 
side the  light ;  I  shall  say  what  were  the  errors,  and  sometimes 
the  crimes,  of  the  monks,  at  the  risk  of  surprising  and  even 
wounding  affections  which  I  respect,  and  a  modesty  which  is 
dear  to  me,  because  it  is  necessary  to  truth,  and  because  I 
would  not  have  any  one  suspect  of  blindness,  partiality,  or 
ignorance,  my  very  insufficient  apology  for  the-e  illustrious 
victims. 

1  shall  relate  these  abuses.  But  on  whose  authority  ?  On 
that  of  the  monks  themselves  ;  for  it  is  most  frequently  to 
them  alone  that  we  owe  the  knowledge  of  tliese  abuses ;  to 
their  confessions,  to  their  lamentations,  to  their  narratives, 
to  the  chronicles  of  their  houses  written  by  themselves  with 
a  frankness  and  simplicity  still  more  admirable  than  their  la- 
borious patience.  They  were  not  acquainted  with  the  rule 
dictated  by  the  prophet  of  their  persecutors:  "Lie  boldly, 
lie  always."  They  spoke  the  entire  truth,  and  to  their  own 
cost ;  they  spoke  it  with  sadness,  blushing  when  that  was 
inevitable,  but  with  a  legitimate  certainty  that  the  evil  which 
they  denounced  to  posterity,  very  far  from  being  the  natural 
result  of  their  institution,  was  its  direct  contradiction,  and 
that  to  vanquish  and  dethrone  it  nothing  more  was  neces- 
sary than  a  return,  always  possible,  to  its  primitive  rule. 
And  1  also  would,  like  them,  speak  the  truth,  and  the  entire 
truth,  not  only  concerning  the  monks,  but  even  of  the  Church 
and  her  ministers,  whensoever  it  is  needful.  I  shall  conceal 
neither  the  prevarications  nor  the  weaknesses  of  those  who 
have  failed,  that  1  may  feel  myself  empowered  to  render  a 
free  and  pure  testimony  to  those  who  have  fought  well,  and 
that  I  may  have  the  right  of  stigmatizing  among  the  enemies 
of  truth  the  evil  which  1  shall  not  spure  in  hor  own  children 


INTRODUCTION.  75 

and  minis  ters.  For  by  what  right  could  I  be  severe  towards 
the  wicked,  if  I  had  not  begun  by  being  severe  towards  those 
who,  charged  by  God  himself  to  combat  vice,  have  become 
its  instruments  and  accompHces  ? 

If  I  threw  a  lying  veil  over  the  corruption  of  the  religious 
orders  during  the  last  period  of  their  existence,  how  could  I 
explain  to  the  eyes  of  Christians,  or  even  of  unbelievers,  the 
terrible  decree  of  the  Almighty,  who  has  permitted  that  this 
long-enduring  grandeur  should  be  swept  away  in  a  single 
day,  and  that  the  heirs  of  so  many  saints  and  heroes,  deliv- 
ered hound  hand  and  foot  to  the  mortal  stroke,  should  almost 
everywhere  succumb  without  resistance  and  without  glory? 

And  again,  I  do  not  write  a  panegyric  but  a  history  :  I 
despise  these  pitiful  mutilations  of  history,  dictated  by  a  false 
and  feeble  prudence,  which  have  perhaps  done  as  much  in- 
jury to  the  good  cause  as  the  shameful  falsifications  of  our 
adversaries.  When  I  meet  with  such  in  the  books  of  certain 
apologists,  I  seem  to  hear  the  remarkable  interrogation  of  the 
patriarch  —  "  Will  ye  speak  wickedly  for  God?  and  talk  de- 
ceitfully for  Him  ?  "  i 

Some  timid  minds  will  blame  me,  I  know  ;  but  1  prefer  the 
authority  of  St.  Gregor}^  the  Great,  who  was  not  less  great 
as  a  monk  than  as  a  pope,  and  who  has  written —  "  It  is  bet- 
ter to  have  scandal  than  a  lie."  ^  I  declare  myself  of  the 
opinion  of  the  two  most  illustrious  and  most  zealous  cham- 
pions for  the  rights  of  the  Church  with  whom  I  am  acquainted. 
I  say  with  Cardinal  Baronius :  ''  God  preserve  me  from  be- 
tra3'ing  the  truth  rather  than  betray  the  feebleness  of  some 
guilty  minister  of  the  Roman  Church  ;  "^  and  I  add  with  the 
Count  de  Maistre,  "  We  owe  to  the  popes  only  truth,  and  they 
have  no  need  of  anything  else."^ 

But,  above  all,  I  shall  speak  that  holy  and  necessary  truth 
when  it  concerns  the  monks  and  their  faults,  because,  as  St. 
Bernard,  that  great  denunciator  of  the  disorders  of  religious 

*  Job  xiii.  7. 

^  "Melius  est  ut  scandalum  oriatur,  quam  ut  Veritas  relinquatur."  —  S. 
Gregor.,  Homil.  7,  in  Uzechiel,  quoted  by  S.  Bernard. 

'  The  passage  is  too  fine  not  to  be  given  entire  :  "  Nos  vero  nee  ejusmodi 
sumus  ut  proditione  veritatis  delinquentera  quemlibet  Ecclesise  RomansB 
ministrum  prodere  nolin^us,  cum  nee  ipsa  sibi  hoc  vindicat  Roniana  Ecclesia, 
ut  membra  sua  et  latere  suo  Legates  missos  omni  carere  turpitudine  asserat. 
Non  enim  Deum  aemulatur  ut  fortior  illo  sit.  Si  enira  ipse  Deus,  qui  facit 
Angelos  suos  spiritus,  et  ministros  suos  ignem  urentem,  tamen  in  Angelis 
suis  reperit  pravitatem,  quid  praesumet  ipsa,  .  .  .  cum  sciat  ipsa  non  su- 
pernos  Angelos  mittere,  sed  homines."  —  Annales,  ad.  ann.  1125,  o.  12. 

*  Du  Pape,  lib.  ii.  c.  13. 


76  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

life  has  so  M'-ell  said,  "It  is  not  against  tlie  Monastic  Order, 
but  for  it,  that  I  contend,  when  I  reprehend  the  vices  of  men 
who  make  part  of  it;  and  I  do  not  fear  thus  to  displease 
those  who  love  the  order — far  otherwise,  I  am  sure  of  pleas- 
ing them  by  pursuing  that  which  tiiey  hate."  ° 

But  let  us  add  alfo,  M^ith  a  great  monk  of  our  own  day, 
"'  Abuses  prove  nothing  against  any  institution  ;  and  if  it  is 
necessar}"  to  destroy  everything  that  has  been  subject  to 
abuse  —  that  is  to  say,  of  things  which  are  good  in  them- 
selves, but  corrupted  by  the  liberty  of  man —  God  himself 
ought  to  be  seized  upon  His  inaccessible  throne,  where  too 
often  wo  have  seated  our  own  passions  and  errors  by  His 
side."  6 

And  who  shall  dare  to  assert,  besides,  that  these  abuses 
were  a  natural  or  necessary  consequence  of  the  monastic  in- 
stitution ?  Good  sense  and  history  prove  to  the  contrary ; 
but  it  is  only  too  well  known  how  little  human  weakness  is 
compatible  with  sustained  perfection.  No  human  institution 
has  been  able  to  produce  results  always  excellent;  but  the 
most  numerous  and  purest  of  such  have  been  produced  by 
the  monastic  orders.  So  much  for  the  institution,  and  all 
that  naturally  proceeds  from  it.  Abuses  and  disorders  pro- 
ceed only  from  that  natural  depravity  of  man  which  ibllows 
and  finds  him  out  everywhere.  There  is  not  a  single  accu- 
sation made  against  the  religious  orders,  Avhich  may  not  be 
imputed  with  as  much  or  more  reason  to  all  human  institu- 
tions, even  the  most  august.  What  do  I  say  ?  there  is  not 
one  which  may  not  penetrate  direct  to  the  Church  herself 
and  entire  Christianity.  Yes,  the  Church,  although  of  divine 
institution,  has  too  often  seen  her  purity  tarnislied  among 
her  children  as  among  her  pontiffs  by  crying  abuses  and 
monstrous  disorders.  Jesus  Christ  has  promised  to  the 
Church  that  the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  her  ; 
but  not  that  He  should  exempt  her  ministers  from  human 
weakness.  God  delivers  no  man  from  the  responsibility  of 
free-will ;  he  has  left  a  power  of  choice,  between  good  and 
evil,  even  to  the  angels,  in  order  to  insure  the  glorious  lib- 
erty of  well-doing,  and  to  endow  His  creatures  with  the  right 
of  meriting  the  happiness  He  offers  them.  And  when  we 
reproach   the   monks  with  having   degenerated   from  their 

°  '■  Non  adversus  ordinem,  sed  pro  ordine  disputandus  ero.  Quin  imo  gra.- 
turn  procul  dubio  accepturi  sunt,  si  perscqnimur  quod  etipsi  oderunt."  —  Ajjo 
logia  ad  Guillelm.,  c.  7. 

"  Lacordaire,  Discours  sur  les  Etudes  Philosophiques,  August  10,  1859 


INTRODUCTION.  77 

primitive  fervor,  and  no  longer  resembling  their  fbumlers,  we 
forget  that  most  modern  Christians  have  still  less  resemblance 
to  the  Christians  of  the  primitive  Church.  This  remark  was 
made  by  Erasmus  three  centuries  since  J  and  has  lost  none  ol 
its  truth.  This  is  certain,  that  at  all  ages,  even  those  which 
have  most  detracted  from  the  renown  and  dignity  of  the 
Ciiurch  and  monastic  orders,  the  primitive  honor  of  those 
great  institutions  remained  intact,  since  all  the  scandals  with 
which  they  were  reproached  proceeded  exclusively  from  the 
violation  of  their  own  rules  and  the  decline  of  their  original 
spirit.  It  is  not  less  incontestable  that  till  their  last  days 
they  continued  to  produce  a  certain  number  of  holy  souls 
and  great  minds,  worthy  of  the  everlasting  admiration  and 
gratitude  of  Christians. 

Voltaire  himself  made  the  same  admission,^  in  speaking 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  He  knew  it  well ;  and  when 
he  was  compelled  to  do  justice  to  religion,  we  may  well 
believe  him. 

Having  said  this,  and  very  far  from  wishing  to  justify,  or 
even  to  excuse,  the  degenerate  monks  who  were  contempo- 
raries of  Erasmus  and  Voltaire,  we  approach  at  once  to  the 
dark  side  of  our  subject,  which,  besides,  we  shall  encounter 
more  or  less  during  tlie  whole  course  of  our  researches. 

Pointed  out  and  stigmatized  from  the  origin  of  the  monas- 
tic institution  by  those  saints  and  doctors  who  were  its  most 
ardent  apologists,  by  Chrysostom  as  by  Augustin  —  combat- 
ed, pursued,  and  repressed  by  the  authors  of  all  the  rules 
and  of  all  the  reforms,  from  St.  Benedict  to  St.  Bernard  — 
these  abuses  and  scandals  periodically  renewed  themselves, 
like  the  heads  of  the  hydra,  sometimes  under  new  appear- 
ances, but  always  grafted  upon  the  old  stock  of  perversit}'" 
and  corruption  which  is  found  in  all  consciences,  and  in  every 

^  "  Qiisenam  igitur  est  animi  perversitas  odisse  nionachum  ob  hoc  ipsum 
quod  luonaclms  est":*  Profiteris  te  Cliristianum  et  adversaris  eis  qui  Cliristo 
siniillinii  sunt?  Hie  protiuus  occinent,  scio  plerosque  plurinium  abesse  ab 
liac  imagine  priscorum  niouachorum.  At  quotiesquisque  est  Christianorum, 
qui  priniitivse  Ecclesiije  sanctimoniani  liactenus  retinuerit?  Nullum  igitur 
vitae  geuus  probabiuius,  si  propter  malos  oderimus  et  bonos."  —  Erasmi, 
Epist.  ad  Joliun.  Einstad.  Carthusian. 

*  "  There  is  still  scarcely  a  monastery  which  does  not  contain  admirable 
souls  who  do  honor  to  human  nature.  Too  many  writers  take  pleasure  in 
-  searching  out  the  disorders  and  vices  by  which  those  sanctuaries  of  piety  were 
sometimes  profaned.  It  is  certain  that  secular  life  has  always  been  more  vi- 
cwvs,  and  that  great  crimes  have  not  been  committed  in  monasteries;  but  they 
have  been  more  remarked  by  their  contrast  to  the  rule;  no  state  has  always 
been  pure." —  Essai  sur  les  Maurs,  c.  139.  See  also  the  remarkable  confes 
gion  of  t  le  Anglican  Maitland,  The  Bark  Ages,  Preface,  p.  11. 
7-Sf 


78  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

human  society.  Ten  centuries  passed  without  wearing  out 
the  perseverance,  the  courage,  the  austere  and  fertile  genius 
of  the  reformers,  whose  labors  we  shall  relate.  The  modest 
and  silent  virtue  of  the  great  majority  of  monks  counterbal- 
anced the  exceptional  abuses,  and  continued  to  merit  the 
admiration  of  men  and  the  clemency  of  God.  But  there 
came  a  time  when  the  abuses  overpowered  the  law,  when 
the  exceptions  eclipsed  the  rule,  and  when  the  triumph  of 
evil  seemed  irreparable.  At  the  end  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, the  flame  which  St.  Bernard  had  rekindled  everywhere 
in  aid  of  the  Cistercian  institution  having  languished,  the 
breath  from  on  high,  the  true  inspiration  of  the  monk, 
seemed  to  abandon  the  old  orders,  that  it  might  give  life  to 
the  mendicant  orders,  and,  after  these  had  perished,  to  the 
great  congregations,  which,  up  to  our  own  times,  have  been 
the  honor  and  consolation  of  the  Church. 

The  great  Benedictine  order,  with  its  immense  property, 
its  vast  patronage,  its  magnificent  mcnuments,  and  the  posi- 
tion which  it  had  acquired  amidst  all  the  movements  and 
interests  of  the  social  and  political  world,  remained  notwith- 
standing one  of  the  greatest  institutions  of  Christendom. 
Many  partial,  local,  even  national  reforms,^  which  arrested 
the  course  of  evil,  and  retarded  its  decline,  rose  from  time 
to  time  in  its  own  bosqm.  But  no  universal,  general,  sus- 
tained, and  sovereign  effort  was  attempted.  Some  branches 
alone  blossomed  for  a  time,  and  seemed  to  promise  an  abun- 
dant and  immortal  growth :  however,  the  old  trunk  continued 
tainted  at  heart,  and  wasted  by  an  internal  decay,  whicli  be- 
came rapidly  more  and  more  apparent,  and  was  a  permanent 
subject  of  scandal  and  reproach  among  good  men  as  well  as 
among  the  wicked. 

Whilst  the  pure  and  generous  indignation  of  Dante 
breathed  forth  in  those  memorable  lines  which  he  places  in 
the  mouth  of  St.  Benedict  himself,^*^  invectives  more  frivo- 
lous, founded  upon  accusations  more  precise  and  dangerous, 
came  to  light  in  the  novels  of  Boccaccio,  and  of  all  those  im- 
itators who,  after  him,  infected  Italian  literature  with  their 
weak  libertinage.  We  find  such  in  all  the  songs  of  the 
feudal  or  popular  poets  of  the  Western  kingdoms.^^     Monas- 

^  "  For  example,  those  of  Bursfield,  in  Westphalia;  St.  Justina,  at  Padua; 
St.  Maur,  St.  Hidulphe,  and  St.  Vanne,  in  France;  La  Trappe,  &c. 

'"  Paradise,  c.  xxii.     See  the  motto  of  this  chapter. 

^'  Among  a  thousand  examples  which  miglit  be  quoted,  I  have  chosen  the 
portrait  of  the  prior  wlio  went  on  a  pilgrimage  to  St.  Thomas  of  Canterbury, 


INTRODUCTION.  79 

tic  corruption  became  the  commonplace  of  .^-atire,  whilst  at 
the  same  time  it  was  the  constant  subject  of  too  just  lamen- 
tation to  all  pious  souls,  as  well  as  to  all  the  high  authorities 
of  the  Church. 

''  For  many  ages,"  says  Bossuet,  in  the  first  page  of  the 
best  book  which  has  ever  been  written  against  Protestantism 
—  "  for  manj  ages  the  reformation  of  ecclesiastical  discipline 
has  been  desirable."  ^^  By  confession  of  all,  that  reforma- 
tion, "  desired  by  the  people,  the  doctors,  the  Catholic  pre- 
lates, and  unhappily  evaded,"  ^^  should  have  first  been 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  religious  orders. 

as  painted  by  Chaucer,  tlie  father  of  English  poetry,  in  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury {Prologue  of  the  Canierhwry  Talus,  173-207)  :  — 

"  Tlie  reule  of  seint  Maure  and  of  seint  Beneit, 

Because  that  it  was  olde  and  somdele  streit, 

Tliis  illte  monk  lette  olde  tiiinge.s  pace, 

And  held  after  the  nevve  world  tlie  trace. 

He  yave  not  of  tiie  text  a  pulled  hen, 

That  saith,  that  hunters  ben  not  holy  men* 

Ne  that  a  monk,  whan  he  is  rekkeles, 

Is  like  to  a  fisli  that  is  waterles ; 

This  is  to  say,  a  monk  out  of  his  cloistre. 

Tills  ilke  text  held  he  not  worth  an  oistre. 

And  I  say  his  opinion  was  gjood. 

What  shulde  he  studie,  and  make  himselven  wood, 

Upon  a  book  in  cloistre  alway  to  pore. 

Or  swinken  with  his  hondes,  and  laboure, 

As  Austin  bit?  how  shal  the  world  be  served? 

Let  Austin  have  his  swink  to  him  reserved. 

Therfore  he  was  a  prickasoure  a  right : 

Greihoundes  he  hadde  as  swift  as  foul  of  flight: 

Of  pricking  and  of  hunting  for  the  hare 

Was  all  his  lust,  for  no  cost  wolde  he  spare. 
I  saw  his  sieves  purfiled  at  the  bond 

With  gris,  and  that  the  finest  of  the  lond. 

And  for  to  fasten  his  hood  under  his  chinne, 

He  hadde  of  gold  j'wrought  a  curious  pinne  i 

A  love-knotte  in  the  greter  end  ther  was. 

His  bed  was  balled,  and  shone  as  any  glas, 

And  eke  his  face,  as  it  hadde  been  anoint. 

He  was  a  lord  ful  fat  and  in  good  point. 

His  eyen  stepe,  and  rolling  in  his  hed, 

That  stemed  as  a  forneis  of  a  led. 

His  botes  souple,  his  hors  in  gret  estat, 

Now  certainly  he  was  a  fayre  prelat. 

He  was  not  pale  as  a  forpined  gost. 

A  fat  swan  loved  he  best  of  any  rost. 

His  palfrey  was  as  broune  as  is  a  bery." 
*'  Hisioire  des   Variations,  liv.  i.  c.  1. 

''  Ihid.  —  He  says  elsewhere,  with  the  noble  candor  which  adds  so  great 
a  charm  and  authority  to  his  genius,  "  The  prodigious  revolt  of  Lutheranism 
has  been  a  visible  punishment  of  the  enervation  of  the  clergy.  .  .  .  God  has 
visited  upon  our  lathers,  as  He  continues  to  visit  upon  us,  all  the  laxness  of 


80  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

Many  of  the  monasteries  excited  envy  and  scandal  by  tlieii 
excessive  opulence.  This  opulence,  produced  by  the  gen- 
erous efforts  and  painful  labors  of  their  first  inhabitants,  was 
no  longer  justified  by  the  sight  of  the  personal  toil  of  the 
monks  in  the  cultivation  of  their  domains,  a  work  which  was 
now  left  to  the  peasants.  Without  depriving  its  legitimate 
possessors  of  this  wealth,  it  might  easily  have  been  turned 
into  other  channels  not  less  profitable  to  the  Church  and  to 
the  poor,  instead  of  allowing  it  to  engender  that  idleness, 
and  those  other  irregularities  still  more  shameful,  which  were 
its  inevitable  consequence. 

Whilst  the  fundamental  laws  of  the  institution,  in  the 
midst  of  this  moral  ruin  and  material  prosperity,  suflered  the 
gravest  alterations,  the  bishops  were  grieved  to  see  the  ties 
of  ecclesiastical  discipline  and  authority  put  to  scorn  by  the 
abuse  of  exemptions.  These  privileges,  specially  legitimate 
and  necessary  at  the  origin  of  the  great  monastic  founda- 
tions, had  become,  by  the  progress  of  time  and  the  blind 
indulgence  with  which  they  were  lavished,  a  useless,  danger- 
ous, and  sometiuios  even  ridiculous  anomaly.  St.  Bernard 
had  already  employed  some  of  the  boldest  accents  of  his  im- 
petuous eloquence  ^^  to  mark  out  this  abuse,  which  dimin- 
ished without  disappearing  under  the  blow  of  the  solemn 
condemnation  of  the  Council  of  Trent. ^^ 

Unhappily  that  great  and  holy  assembly,  ill  seconded,  and 
struck  with  impotence  besides  by  the  ill-will  of  princes, 
could  not  bring  an  efficacious  or  durable  remedy  to  the 
abuses,  truly  fatal  and  revolting,  of  the  commende.  The 
Fathers  of  the  Council  poured  forth  on  this  subject  prayers 
which  were  not  granted,  and  decreed  prohibitions  none  of 
which  were  carried  out.^** 

past  centuries,  beginning  with  the  earliest  times,  in  wliicli  evil  customs,  con- 
trary to  the  rule,  began  to  prevail.  .  .  .  Let  us  take  heed,  all  of  us  who  are 
superiors.  .  .  .  We  must  bear  the  penalty  for  all  the  scorned  canons,  all 
the  abuses  authorized  by  our  example."  —  Meditations  sur  VEvangJe,  G-tth 
day. 

'■•  "  Non  est  bona  arbor  faciens  fructus  tales,  insolentias,  dissolutiones, 
dilapidationes,  simultates,  scandala,  odia."  —  De  Consider.,  lib.  iii.  c.  4.  — 
Cf.  Tract,  de  Morib.  et  Officio  Episc,  c.  9. 

'*  "  Quoniam  privilegia  et  exemptiones,  quae  variis  titulis  plerisque  conce 
duntur,    hodie    perturbationem    in    episcoporum   jurisdictione    excitare,    et 
excmptis  occasionem  laxioris  vitse  prsebere  dignoscuntur."  —  Sess.  xxiv.,  De 
Reformat.,  c.  11.  —  Cf.  Sess.  vi.  c.  3. 

'*  Sessio  xxi.,  De  Reformat.,  c.  8.  —  Sessio  xxv.,  De  Regul.  et  Monial., 
c.  20  and  21.  —  We  quote  only  this  last  text:  "  Sancta  Synodus  .  .  .  con- 
fidit  SS.  Romanum  pontificem  pro  sua  pietate  et  prudentia  curaturum, 
quantum   hjec  tempora   ferre  posse  viderit,  ut  iis  (monasteriis)  quae   nunc 


INTKODUCTION.  81 

We  shall  see  hereafter  the  origin  and  special  natnro  of 
fhis  scourge,  which  was  contemporary  witli  the  earHo'^t  times 
of  the  institution,  but  whicli,  more  or  less  restrained^'  dur- 
ing the  middle  ages,  only  attained  in  the  sixteenth  century 
(o  those  shameful  and  formidable  proportions  which  !iave 
made  it  the  leprosy  of  the  Monastic  Order.  Let  us  only  sny 
hei-e  that  the  result  of  this  commende  was  to  bestow  the  tide 
of  abbot,  with  the  greater  part  of  the  revenues  of  a  monas- 
tery, upon  ecclesiastics  who  were  strangers  to  monastic  life, 
and  too  often  even  upon  simple  laymen,  provided  they  wero 
not  married.  It  inflicted  thus  a  deep  and  radical  taint  to 
these  institutions,  and  wherever  Protestantism  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  battering  them  down  violently,  it  inoculated  them 
w^ith  a  disgraceful  and  deadly  poison. 

Subsequent  to  the  Reformation,  Catholic  Germany  Avas 
happy  enough  to  get  rid  of  this  incubus.  Belgium,  thankg 
to  her  ancient  political  freedom,  could  impose  even  upon  her 
most  powerful  sovereigns,  such  as  Charles  V.  and  Philip  TI., 
the  obligation  of  preserving  her  from  that  ignoniiny.^^  Italy 
was  less  happy  :  Mont-Cassin,  the  cradle  and  home  of  the 
Benedictine  order,  suffered  the  disp-race  of  being  included 
amongst  the  sixteen  abbeys,  with  wdiich  the  son  of  the  Medi- 
cis,  afterwards  Leo  X.,  was  provided  from  his  cradle  as  with 
so  many  bawbles.  There  too  the  ancient  and  illustrious 
Abbey  of  Farfa  was  bestowed  about  1530  upon  one  Napo- 
leon Orsini,  who  made  it  the  headquarters  of  a  band  of 
brigands,  and  who,  at  their  head,  ravaged  all  Central  Italy, 
up  to  the  time  when  he  was  killed  in  the  attempt  to  carry 
off  his  own  sister  from  her  bridegroom.!^  I  grieve  to  say 
that  similar  incidents  appear  in  too  many  pages  of  the  his- 
tor}^  01  those  tempestuous  times. 

But  it  was  specially  in  France,  after  the  concordat  of  Leo 

commendata  reperiuntur,  et  quae  suos  conventus  habent,  regultires  persons, 
ejiisdein  ordinis  expresse  professae,  et  quse  gregi  prasire  et  praeesse  possunt, 
praeficiantur.  Quae  vero  in  posterum  vacabunt,  non  nisi  rei^fularibus  spic- 
tatae  virtutis  et  sanctitatis  conferantur." 

''  Clement  V.  and  Innocent  VI.  distinguished  themselves  among  all  the 
popes  by  the  revocation  of  all  commendes  anterior  to  their  pontificates.  But 
the  evil  revived  incessantly.  Neither  the  Council  of  Basle  nor  the  Piag- 
matic  Sanction  discussed  it.  —  Thomassin,  Vetus  et  Nova  Disciptina  de  Be- 
neficiia,  part  ii.  lib.  iii.  c.  19  and  20. 

'®  The  article  57  of  the  Joyeuse  Entree  of  Brabant,  to  which  Chnrles  V. 
and  Philip  II.  were  obliged  to  swear,  as  the  Dukes  of  Burgundy  had  sworn, 
and  which  was  only  abolished  by  Joseph  II.,  declares:  "The  sovereign 
shall  not  give  in  any  manner,  nor  allow  to  be  given,  in  commende,  anj 
abbey,  prelacy,  or  dignity  of  Brabant." 

"  Cantc,  Storia  degli  Italiani,  t.  v. 


82  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

X.  with  Francis  T.,  that  this  evil  attained  its  utmost  limits. 
This  concordat  gave  to  the  king  the  right  of  nominating  to 
all  the  abbeys  and  conventual  priories  of"  the  kingdom.  It 
certainly  warned  him  to  confer  these  benefices  only  on  the 
Religious,  but.  that  condition  was  invariably  eluded  or  vio- 
lated. The  individuals  invested  by  the  king  with  these 
benefices,  without  any  intervention  of  the  community  whose 
revenues  they  were  about  to  devour,  had  only  to  make  in- 
terest with  the  Pope,  who  despatched  to  them  the  bulls  of 
their  new  dignity,  surrogating  them  to  the  rights  of  the 
elective  and  regular  abbots  of  former  times,  and  reserving  to 
a  cloistral  prior  the  spii'itual  administration  of  the  monastery 
thus  despoiled  of  its  most  precious  rights.  This  frightful 
state  of  things  lasted  till  the  Revolution.  Ft)r  the  partial 
irregularities  which,  especially  in  houses  not  directly  subject 
to  the  influence  of  the  great  feudal  families,  had  followed 
elections,  the  direct  nomination  of  the  kings,  established  by 
the  concoidat  of  1516,  substituted  a  criminal,  radical,  and 
incurable  disorder.  The  title  of  abbot,  borne  and  distin- 
guished by  so  many  saints,  so  many  doctors,  so  many  illus- 
trious pontiffs,  fell  into  the  mire.  Neither  residence  nor  any 
of  the  duties  of  the  religious  life  were  an}'  longer  compul- 
sory. It  was  nothing  more  than  a  lucrative  sinecure,  which 
the  Crown  disposed  of  at  its  pleasure,  or  at  the  pleasure  of 
its  ministers,  and  too  often  to  the  profit  of  the  most  unwor- 
thy passions  or  interests.  In  vain  did  the  permanent  scan- 
dal of  these  monasteries  deprived  of  their  natural  heads, 
and  farmed  by  strangers  who  onlj^  appeared  among  them  to 
grind  down  the  inhabitants,  call  forth  their  unanimous  and 
frequent  complaints;  in  vain  did  the  estates  of  Blois  and 
Paris,  like  most  of  the  political  and  religious  assemblies  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  petition  for  the  restoration  of  ancient 
discipline :  all  was  useless.  The  evil  grew  more  and  more 
aggravated.  The  very  idea  of  the  pious  and  cliantable  des- 
tination of  these  glorious  creations  of  the  faith  of  our 
fathers,  was  soon  obliterated  from  the  minds  of  those  who 
thus  disposed  of  the  treasures  of  the  past,  as  Avell  as  of 
those  who  were  nourished  by  them.  This  magnificent  patri- 
mony of  faith  and  charity,  created  and  augmented  by  the 
ages,  and  consecrated  by  its  originators  expressly  to  the 
maintenance  of  a  life  regular  and  in  common,  and  to  the  help 
of  the  poor,  was  thus  transformed  into  a  fiscal  reserve  at- 
tached to  the  royal  treasury,  which  the  hand  of  the  sover- 
eigns exhausted  at  will  in  the  endeavor  to  satisfy  the  rapacity 


INTRODUCTION.  83 

of  their  courtiers,  or,  as  has  been  said,  to  gorge  and  to  enslave 
their  nobility. 

My  readers,  T  venture  to  say,  cannot  be  more  sad  and  dis- 
tressed than  I  am,  to  see  myself  condemned  to  relate  how 
abbe3"s,  the  most  ancient  and  illustrious  in  the  annals  of  the 
country  and  the  Church,  have  served  as  ay)panages  to  the 
bastards  of  kings  or  to  their  most  unworthy  favorites,^*^ —  and 
even  sometimes  as  the  price  of  the  disgraceful  favors  of  a 
royal  mistress.^^  Later,  and  during  tlie  course  of  our  ci\il 
discords  after  the  League  and  the  Fronde,  they  were  the 
object  of  an  avowed  and  revolting  traffic,  and  formed  (ho 
common  money  of  all  markets  in  the  negotiations  of 
the  tiines.^  And  at  length,  when  absolute  monarchy  had 
triumphed  over  all  resistance,  these  great  and  celebrated 
houses  fell  most  frequently  a  prey  to  ministers  who  had 
nothing  of  the  ecclesiastic  but  his  robe  ;  after  having  grati- 
fied the  ambition  of  Richelieu  ^3  and  the  cupidity  of  Mazarin, 
they  went  to  swell  the  cynical  opulence  of  the  Abb6  Du- 
bois '■^  and  of  the  Abb^  Terray.^^ 

It  was  perhaps  for  lesser  treasons  that  the   angel  of  the 

^"  Charles  of  Valois,  Duke  of  Angoul^me,  bastard  of  Charles  IX.  and 
IMarie  Touchet,  was  comiuendatory  abbot  of  the  Cliaisc-Dieu  at  the  age  of 
tliirteen,  and  still  drew  tlie  revenues  of  it  in  1599.  although  long  married. 
The  Abbey  of  Bourgueil,  in  the  diocese  of  Angers,  had  been  given  to  Bussy 
d'Ainbuise,  the  favorite  of  the  brother  of  Henry  III.,  the  worst  subject  of  liis 
time,  wlio  was  assassinated  by  tlie  Count  deMontsoreau,  19th  August,  1579. 
In  the  Journal  of  P.  de  I'Estoile,  he  is  always  styled  Abbot  of  Bourgueil. 

*'  Henry  IV.  assigned  in  1601  to  Corisande  d'Andouin,  Countess  of 
Guiche,  tiie  revenues  of  tlie  Abbey  of  Chatillon,  where  St.  Bernard  was  edu- 
cated (CouRTEPEE,  Descript.  Ilist.  de  la  Bourgogne,  t.  vi.  p.  375).  We 
iuive  a  letter  from  him  in  three  lines,  wlicre  he  gives  an  abbey  to  Kosny  — 
the  Protestant  Rosny  —  and  asks  of  him  at  the  same  tiine  50  000  crowns  for 
his  mistress,  Mile.  d'Entraignes,  "portion  du  prix  de  sa  pretendue  virgi- 
nite,"  says  M.  Berger  de  Xivrey.  —  Recveildes  Lettres  Missives  de  Henri  IV., 
t.  V.  p.  179. 

^*  There  was  sold  in  1858  at  Paris  an  autograph  letter  of  the  Duchess  of 
Montbazon,  who  wrote  to  Mazarin  to  stipulate  that  her  daughter  should  have 
an  abbey  at  the  time  of  the  approaching  peace.  '•  Sy  celle  de  Caen  venoit  a 
vaguer  ou  tout  octre  (sic)  bonne,  je  vous  la  demande.' 

^^  He  endowed  himself  with  the  commende  of  Citeaux,  of  Cluny,  and  almost 
all  the  great  abbeys  of  France,  and  this  in  sj)ite  of  the  express  prohibition  of 
the  Council  of  Trent,  which  had  interdicted  abbeys,  heads  of  orders,  from 
being  put  in  commende  {Sess.  xxiv.  c.  21).  He  only  tollowed  in  this  the  ex- 
ample of  the  famous  Cardinal  of  Lorraine  in  the  preceding  century,  and  of 
the  Cardinal  of  Cliaiillon,  brother  of  Coligny,  who  had  thirteen  abbeys  in 
commende  up  to  the  time  when  he  married,  declaring  himself  a  Protestant. 

^■'  Dubois  was  titular  of  the  seven  Abbeys  of  Nogent,  St.  Just,  Airvaulx, 
Bourgueil,  Bergues-St.-Vinox,  St.  Bertin,  and  Cercamp,  the  united  incomes 
of  which  amounted  to  204,000  livres.  —  St.  Simon,  IJemoires,  ch.  G08,  ed. 
Delloye. 

^*  This  controller-general  enjoyed  the  Abbeys  of  Molesmes  and  Troarn ; 
the  former  had  been  the  cradle  of  the  order  of  Citeaux,  and  the  latter  was 


84  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

justice  of  the  Lord  pronounced  against  ono  of  the  comraum- 
ties  of  the  primitive  Church  the  formidable  sentence  — 
"  Thon  hast  a  name  that  thou  livest,  and  art  dead  !  "  ^^ 

Let  us  imagine  to  ourselves  what  could  become,  in  most  of 
these  monasteries,  despoiled  of  their  most  essential  preroga- 
tives, of  the  true  motives  of  their  existence,  and  metamor- 
phosed into  farms  belonging  to  strangers,  of  some  five  or  six 
unhappy  monks,  abandoned  to  themselves  and  overwhelmed 
under  the  weight  of  their  past  glory  and  their  present  de- 
basement !  Can  we  wonder  at  the  progress  cf  corruption,  of 
spiritual  and  intellectual  decline?  What  were  they  else  but 
so  many  isolated  detachments  of  soldiers,  forgotten  by  their 
army,  without  leader  and  without  discipline,  who  found  them- 
selves thus  naturally  exposed  and  almost  condemned  to  all  the 
temptations  of  idleness? 2'' 

Life  ebbed  away  from  them,  little  by  little  —  not  only  reli- 
gious life,  but  life  of  every  kind.  Li  spite  of  the  attractions 
which  an  existence  easy  and  rich,  almost  without  care  and 
mortifications,  offered  to  vulgar  souls,  a  suflScient  number  of 
monks  could  not  be  found  to  people  these  dishonored  sanc- 
tuaries. Let  us  well  observe,  to  the  honor,  of  human  nature 
as  of  Christianity  and  religious  life,  that  the  corrupt  orders 
were  always  barren.  The  world  would  have  none  of  them, 
as  God  would  not.  Like  God,  the  world  addressed  them  in 
these  words :  "  I  would  thou  wert  cold  or  hot.  So  then  be- 
cause thou  art  lukewarm,  and  neither  cold  nor  hot,  I  will  spue 
thee  out  of  my  mouth." 

It  was  in  vain  that,  to  fill  up  these  vacancies,  they  had  re- 
course to  another  abuse,  to  which  the  Church  has  too  often 
closed  her  eyes.  Forced  vocations,  that  too  legitimate  cause 
of  ruin  and  unpopularity  to  the  religious  orders,  dates  back, 
like  the  commende,  to  a  far-distant  age.  They  were  made 
subservient  to  political  purposes  under  the  Merovingians  and 
Carlovingians,  as  the  well-known  fate  of  Clodoald  and  Tassilon 
testifies.  But  in  the  middle  ages,  during  the  highest  period 
of  monastic  fervor,  we  can  scarcely  find  any  trace  of  them. 

founded  by  the  Norman  dukes  of  the  eleventh  century.  Tlie  one  was  valued 
iit  31,000  livres  of  income,  and  the  otlier  at  80,000.  The  journal  of  the.  ad- 
vocate Barbier,  v.  ii.,  discloses  the  scandalous  use  which  was  made  of  the 
revenues  of  the  glorious  Abbey  of  St.  Germain-des-Pres  by  its  last  com- 
mendatory abbot,  tlie  Count  of  Clermont,  a  prince  of  the  blood,  otherwise 
brilliant  and  intrepid  in  war,  as  became  a  Bourbon. 

'*  Rev.  iii.  1. 

*'  Of  the  many  thousand  monasteries  founded  in  France  during  thirteen 
centuries,  there  remained,  in  1789,  only  one  hundred  and  twenty  which  were 
en  regie  ;  that  is  to  say,  who  retained  the  right  to  elect  their  abbot  and  dis- 
pose of  their  incomes. 


INTRODUCTION.  85 

Thej  reappear  at  these  epochs  of  decadence  and  corrup- 
tion, in  which  the  self-love  and  cupidity  of  iarailies  tco  oi'tcn 
found  in  the  ecclesiastical  superiors  accomplices  all  the  more 
docile,  as  they  were  themselves  strangers  to  the  true  condi- 
tions of  cloistral  life.  That  modern  tyranny  which  has  pro- 
duced the  revolutionary  spirit,  and  which  proscribes  the  vow, 
was  then  preceded  and  represented  by  a  tyranny  which,  with 
an  equal  disdain  for  the  liberty  and  dignity  of  the  human 
soul,  imposed  that  vow.  "  Consent,"  said  one  of  our  old  and 
illustrious  jurisconsults,  "  is  the  seal,  the  source,  and  the  soul 
of  the  vow.  Wretched  hyprocrisy,"  says  again  the  eloquent 
Antoine  Le  Maistre,  "  which  you  shield  under  the  shadow  of 
a  profession  so  holy  in  itself,  and  so  sweet  to  those  on  whom 
God  has  bestowed  the  choice,  spirit,  and  love  of  it,  but  which 
reprobates  the  inhuman  hardships  suffered  by  poor  children  to 
whom  no  such  impulse  has  been  given,  who  have  been  forced 
to  enter  there  by  the  violence  of  their  parents,  who  are  bound 
to  it  by  chains  of  fear  and  terror,  and  who  are  retained  there 
by  the  same  force,  by  the  same  terror,  which  prisons  and 
tortures  would  hold  over  them."  ^^ 

This  criminal  abuse  was  incessantly  counterbalanced  by  a 
multitude  of  freely-conceived  vocations,  nobly  persevered  in. 
and  accomplished,  despite  the  resistance  of  their  families,  by 
scions  of  the  highest  aristocracy.  Bossuet,  in  his  sermons  for 
the  profession  of  Mademoiselle  de  Bouillon  and  other  daugh- 
ters of  great  houses,  has  cast  his  eagle  glance  upon  these  aston- 
ishing contradictions.  *'  What  has  not  covetousness  spoiled  ?  " 
he  says  elsewhere  :  "  it  has  vitiated  even  paternal  love.  Par- 
ents throw  their  children  into  the  cloister  without  vocation, 
and  prevent  their  entering  when  they  have  one."  ^^ 

Of  these  two  evils,  the  last  is  still  often  seen  among  our- 
selves. The  first  had  gradually  diminished  before  the  great 
catastrophe  which  destroyed,  at  once,  all  the  abuses  and  all 
the  rights  of  cloistral  life.  It  yielded  to  the  irresistible  em- 
pire  of  manners  and  public  opinion.  Jf  moral  constraint  was 
still  sometimes  employed  in  Italy  and  elsewhere  to  introduce 
daughters  of  the  nobility  and  middle  classes  ^"^  into  chapter- 

^*  See  the  fine  pleading  of  Antoine  Le  Maistre,  quoted  by  Oscar  de  Val- 
LEE,  Judiciary  Eloquence  in  the  Seventeenth  Century,  18.5G,  i)p.  105  and  116. 

^^  Fensees  Chretiennes  et  Morales,  No.  42.  —  It  is  well  known  that  in  liis 
time  tlie  woi'd  religion  meant  a  religious  order,  and  that  they  still  call  becom- 
ing a  religieux,  entrer  en  religion. 

3"  Thence  tliis  proverb,  so  universally  quoted  in  Italy  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  with  too  much  justice:  ■'  La  badie  sono  la  preda  dtgV  uomini 
e  la  tomha  della  donne." 

VOL.  I.  8 


86  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

houses  and  female  convents,  we  can  affirm  that  in  the  French 
monasteries,  in  the  last  period  of  their  existence,  there  was 
scarce]}^  to  be  found  a  single  individual  wlio  had  not  entered 
by  her  own  choice.  The  startling  contradiction  which  the 
declarations  of  Diderot,  La  Harpe,  and  many  others,  upon 
cloistered  victims,  received  in  1791,  proved  this  abundantly. 
In  a  single  day  all  the  cloisters  were  destroyed  and  the  mo- 
nastic vow  declared  null.  How  many  monks,  how  many  nuns, 
married?  Certainly  not  one  in  a  thousand.  Most  part  of  the 
Avomen,  in  particular,  voluntarily  re-entered  the  cloister  as 
soon  as  they  had  the  power. 

Instead  of  obliging  any  man  to  become  a  monk,  or  using 
restraint  to  keep  him  so,  there  seems  to  have  been  a  greater 
inclination  to  make  the  abandonment  and  transformation  of 
that  state  more  practicable.  Individual  requests  for  per- 
mission to  leave  the  cloister  and  live  in  complete  indepen- 
dence, such  as  that  which  several  Benedictines  of  St.  Maur 
addressed  in  1770  to  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  were  repulsed. 
But  when  entire  communities  demanded  to  bo  secularized, 
their  prayer  was  granted  :  three  of  the  most  ancient  abbeys 
of  the  diocese  of  Lyons  solicited  and  obtained  that  melan- 
choly favor,  in  the  second  half  of  the  eighteenth  century .^^ 

Under  the  influence  of  all  these  united  causes,  the  monas- 
tic institution  hastened  more  and  more  to  complete  decay. 
It  would  be  unjust  to  make  this  condemnation  too  general, 
and  above  all  to  forget  the  generous  attempts  which,  from 
time  to  time,  lifted  up  their  protest  against  the  invasion  of 
evil  and  interrupted  its  march.  Many  luminous  points  shone 
still  in  Belgium  and  in  Germany,  as  well  as  in  Italy,  Spain, 
and  Fran(;e.  The  reform  of  the  order  of  Citeaux,  undertaken 
in  the  sixteenth  century  by  the  Abbot  of  Feuillans,^^  was  the 
worthy  prelude  of  that  which,  a  hundred  years  later,  renewed 
the  marvels  of  the  Thebaid,  in  immortalizing  the  name  of 
La  Trappe.  In  the  seventeenth  century,  more  than  one 
worthy  scion  of  the  Benedictine  stem,  such  as  Sfoudrate^ 
find  D'AguirrOj^"^   showed  themselves  worthy  emulators  of 

•''  Those  of  thr  Isle  Bnrbe,  Ainay,  and  Savigny.  —  A.  Beknakd,  Cartu- 
laire  de  Savigny,  p.  ll-t. 

^-  Jean  de  la  Baniere.  —  Sec  a  striking  description  of  his  person  and  ap- 
I>earance  befare   Henry  III.,  in  August,   loSo,  in  the  Regisire  Journal  of 

PlEEKlt  DE  l'EsTDILE 

^■*  Grand-nepliew  of  Gregory  XIV.,  Monk  and  Abbot  of  St.  Gall,  before 
being  made  Cardinal  by  Innocent  XII. 

'^*  Born  in  1G3U,  died  in  1111)1).  General  of  the  Congregation  of  St.  Benedict 
in  Spain,  made  Cardinal   by  Innocent  XL,  utter  his  Defensio  CatlLcdrcB  S 


INTRODUCTION.  87 

Bellarraine  and  Baronius,  by  their  zeal  for  sacred  science  and 
the  defence  of  the  liberties  of  the  Church;  whilst  the  immor- 
tal pleiad  which  is  grouped  in  history  around  Mabillon  and 
Montfaucon,  crown  the  name  of  St.  Maur  with  a  glory  which 
remains  unrivalled.  Mabillon,  above  ail,  the  most  illustrious 
of  modern  monks,  merits  a  place  by  the  side  of  the  greatest 
and  most  holy,  not  only  for  his  colossal  erudition  and  inap- 
preciable labors,  but  especially  for  the  purity  of  his  life,  the 
nobleness,  uprightness,  and  ardent  integrity  of  his  character. 

But  these  glorious  individuals,  and  their  partial,  local,  and 
temporary  reforms,  were  not  sufficient  to  redeem  the  increas- 
ing miseries  and  infirmities  of  the  general  mass  of  an  institu- 
tion, which  would  have  required  the  employment  of  all  the 
strength  and  solicitude  of  the  Church  to  save  and  regenerate 
it.  In  France  especially  —  that  is  to  say,  in  the  country  of 
all  Christendom  which,  whether  for  good  or  evil,  exerts  the 
strongest  influence  upon  the  rest  of  the  world  —  the  great 
majority  of  the  monasteries  escaped  every  regenerating  in- 
fluence, remained  a  prey  to  the  commende,  and  sank  deeper 
and  deeper  into  disorder  and  discredit.  It  was  thus  during 
all  the  eighteenth  century,  and  towards  its  end,  a  learned 
Benedictine  of  St.  Germain-des-Pres  could  thus  write  to  one 
of  his  brethcrn  of  the  congregation  of  St.  Vanne  :  "  Of  all 
the  monks  of  your  congregation  who  come  here  to  lodge,  I 
have  scarcely  seen  one  who  has  edified  us.  You  no  doubt 
would  say  as  much  of  our  brethren  w^ho  go  to  you."''^ 

A  sentiment  of  contempt,  exaggerated  but  universal,  had 
everywhere  replaced  the  profound  veneration  with  wdiich 
the  great  monastic  orders  had  so  long  inspired  the  Catholic 
workl.'-*^  However  large  a  part  impiety,  and  the  hatred  of 
the  wicked  for  the  Christian  name,  had  in  this  general  senti- 

Petri  against  the  Declaration  of  1G82.  Bossuet,  even  in  contending  against 
him,  calls  him  the  light  of  the  Church,  modd  of  manners,  exaraple  of  pibty. 
When  a  cardinal,  he  kept  always  near  him  two  or  three  monks,  with  wiiom 
he  t'ullowed  the  practices  of  monastic  life :  before  dying,  he  ordered  liis  heart 
to  be  borne  to  Monte  Cassino,  "  quod  S.  Patris  Benedicti  ah  adolescentiae  ves- 
iigiis  adhaeserat."  He  composed  beforehand  his  epitaph,  thus  :  — 
"  Vita  Peccator,  appeliatione  Monaclius, 
S.  Benedicti  studio  Theologus." 

^^  Letter  of  Dom  Clement,  about  1780,  (juoted  \,y  M.  Dantiek,  Rapport 
sur  la  Correspoyi dance  Ineditu  des  Benedictms,  p.  19. 

*"  They  had  arrived  at  such  a  point  that  one  of  the  most  pious,  illustrious, 
and  victorious  princes  of  the  seventeenth  century,  Duke  Charles  V.  of  Lor- 
raine, competitor  of  Sobioski,  conqueror  of  Hungary,  brother-in-law  of  the 
Emperor  Leopold  L,  and  ancestor  of  the  present  reigning  liouse  in  Austria, 
wrote  in  ids  Testament  Politique,  intended  for  the  instruction  of  tlie  princea 
of  the  imperial  family,  these  cruel  words:  '"It  is  not  proper  to  introduce 


88  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

meat,  it  is  impossible  to  deny  that  the  religious  orders,  taken 
altogether,  had  undergone  the  most  melancholy  change.  The 
tables  were  turned.  From  the  time  of  the  peace  of  the 
Church,  and  throughout  the  whole  middle  ages,  the  contrast 
between  the  two  bodies  of  the  clergy,  regular  and  secular, 
had  been  startling,  and  entirely  to  the  advantage  of  the  for- 
mer. The  regular  clergy  had  not  onlj^  eclipsed,  but  in  some 
measure  swallowed  up,  the  secular  clergy.  Strictness,  fer- 
vor, self-devotion,  all  the  priestly  virtues,  had  their  home 
almost  exclusively  in  the  cloister.  In  more  recent  ages  it 
was  precisely  the  reverse  ;  and  when  the  Revolution  came 
to  separate  the  good  wheat  from  the  tares,  and  to  bring  out 
the  Gallican  Church  triumphantly  from  the  most  glorious  trial 
to  wljich  any  Church  has  over  submitted,  the  bishops  and 
parish  priests  almost  always  showed  themselves  superior  to 
the  monks. 

Is  it  needful  to  ascertain  further  the  depth  of  their  fall,  or 
to  explain  the  true  case  of  their  ruin?  When  a  religious 
order  becomes  inferior  in  virtue  or  in  faith  to  the  remainder 
of  the  clei-gy,  it  loses  the  motive  of  its  existence,  and  signs 
beforehand  its  own  death-warrant.  It  is  no  longer  anything, 
to  use  the  words  of  Bossuet,  but  a  "  spiritual  corpse  "  and 
its  own  "  living  tomb." 

Those  who  may  accuse  me  of  an  excess  of  severity,  I  shall 
refer  to  the  imposing  and  incontestable  authority  of  two  great 
lights  of  the  Gallican  Church,  at  a  period  when  monastic  cor- 
ruption was  still  far  from  being  complete.  It  is  true  that 
their  eloquent  lamentations  were  addressed  to  nuns  ;  but  it  is 
unquestionable  that  abuses  and  scandals,  too  frequent  in 
female  communities,  where  still  more  so  in  the  monasteries 
of  men,  of  which  the  commende  had  become  the  general 
law,  while  it  was  only  to  be  met  with  in  exceptional 
cases  in  abbeys  of  women.  Let  us  listen  then  to  the 
significant  words  of  Fenelon,  preaching,  before  he  was  a 
bishop,  the  panegyric  of  St.  Bernard  before  the  Bernardino 
nuns  —  "Oh  reform!  reform!  which  has  cost  Bernard  so 
many  vigils,  fasts,  tears,  sweats,  and  ardent  prayers,  can  we 
believe  that  thou  shalt  perish  ?  No,  no  ;  never  let  that 
thought   enter  my  heart.     Perish    rather  the  unhappy    day 

nionkliood  into  councils :  they  are  a  kind  of  men  who  have  never  done  well 

to  nionarchs,  and  who  are  destined  only  to  do  them  harm Tiie  less 

tlicre  are  of  priests  and  monks  in  a  family,  the  more  the  idea  of  religion  will 
be  jireserved  there;  peace  more  assured,  and  secrets  more  impenetrable."  — 
Testament  rolitiqne  de  Gharles  V.,  quoted  by  the  Count  D'Haussonville. 
Histoire  de  la  Reunion  de  la  Lorraine,  t.  iii.  p.  380. 


INTRODUCTION.  89 

wliich  should  like  such  a  fall  !  What !  shall  Bernard  himself 
see  irom  the  sanctuary  where  he  is  crowned,  his  house  ravaf:^ed, 
his  work  dishgured,  and  his  children  a  prey  to  the  desires 
of  the  age?  Rather  let  my  eyes  change  into  fountains 
of  tears:  rather  let  the  whole  Churdi  wail  night  and  day 
lest  that  which  was  her  glory  bo  turned  into  her  shame  ! 
...  Oh  daughters  of  Bernard  !  let  me  see  your  father  liv- 
ing in  you.  He  reanimated  monastic  discipline,  which  was 
almost  extinguished  in  his  time:  will  you  permit  it  to  perish 
in  yours?  " 

Siraihir  expressions,  not  less  pointed,  are  to  be  found  in 
that  famous  discourse  upon  the  advantages  and  duties  of  the 
religious  life,  which  is  sometimes  attributed  to  Fenelon,  and 
sometimes  to  Bossuet,  and  is  worthy  of  either :  —  '*  This 
house  is  not  yours  :  it  is  not  for  you  that  it  was  .built  and 
founded  ;  it  is  for  the  education  of  young  girls.  ...  If 
then  it  should  ever  happen  (snifer  it  not,  oh  God  !  rather 
overthrow  these  walls  !)  —  if  it  sliould  ever  happen  that  you 
neglect  your  essential  function  ;  if,  forgetting  that  you  are 
in  Jesus  Christ,  the  servants  of  this  youth,  you  think  only  of 
enjoying  in  peace  the  consecrated  possessions  here  ;  if  in  this 
humble  school  of  Jesus  Clirist  we  find  only  vain  and  gorgeous 
Avomen,  forgetful  of  their  birth,  and  habituated  to  a  disdainful 
haughtiness  which  quenches  the  Spirit  of  God  and  efiaces  the 
gospel  from  the  depths  of  the  heart,  —  alas,  what  a  scandal! 
the  pure  gold  should  be  changed  into  lead,  the  spouse  of 
Jesus  Christ,  without  wrinkles  and  without  blemish,  should  bo 
blacker  than  coal,  and  He  should  know  her  no  more  !" 

In  the  same  discourse  we  find  other  sad  disclosures  of  the 
internal  condition  of  the  great  communities  in  the  seven- 
teenth century.  "  Poverty  is  not  only  unpractised,  but  un- 
known. They  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  be  poor,  by  coarse 
food,  by  the  necessity  of  labor,  by  a  simple  and  narrow 
lodging,  by  all  the  details  of  life.  ...  It  is,  however,  by 
these  means  that  communities  can  be  liberal,  generous,  and 
disinterested.  In  other  dctys,  the  hermits  of  Egypt  and  the 
East  not  only  lived  by  the  labor  of  their  hands,  but  dispensed 
much  alms;  ships  might  be  seen  on  the  sea  charged  with 
their  charities.  Now  it  requires  prodigious  revenues  to 
support  a  communit3\  Families  accustomed  to  poverty  spare 
everything  —  they  subsist  on  little  ;  but  the  communities  are 
not  satisfied  with  abundance.  How  many  hundi'eds  of  fami- 
lies could  subsist  honestly  on  a  sura  which  scarcely  suffices 
for  the  expenditure  of  one  of  these  communities  which  pro- 
8* 


90  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

fess  to  renounce  the  possessions  of  the  families  of  the  a^re,  in 
order  to  embrace  poverty  !  What  a  satire!  what  a  contrast ! 
If  you  have  business  with  poor  ponple  charged  witli  great 
families,  you  often  find  them  upright,  moderate,  capable  of 
yielding  for  the  sake  of  peace,  and  of  an  easy  disposition. 
If  you  have  business  with  a  community,  it  makes  a  point  of 
conscience  to  treat  j'ou  rigorously.  I  am  asliamed  to  say  it 
—  I  speak  it  only  groaning  and  in  secret —  I  only  whisper  it 
in  the  ear  to  instruct  the  spouses  of  Jesus  Christ;  but  I  am 
obliged  to  say  it,  for  unhappily  it  is  true:  There  are  none 
more  easily  offended,  more  difficult,  more  tenacious,  more 
■ardent  in  lawsuits,  than  those  who  ought  not  even  to  have 
any  business  affairs.  Mean  and  contracted  hearts  !  can  it  be 
in  the  school  of  Christianity  tliat  you  have  been  formed  ?"2^ 

In  sight  of  these  revelations,  and  of  so  many  other  incon- 
testable proofs  of  an  inveterate  evil,  we  are  unavoidably  led 
to  put  to  ourselves  a  melancholy  question  :  How  did  the 
Church  allow  herself  tobe  consumed  b}"  that  lamentable  decay  ? 
Why  did  she  not  intervene  with  her  divine  authority  to 
save  this  precious  portion  of  her  inheritance  ?  This  is,  I 
will  venture  to  say,  the  darkest  and  most  unaccountable  page 
of  her  history  —  that  fatal  indulgence  can  never  be  suffi- 
ciently regretted.  The  most  energetic  remedies,  the  most 
inexorable  severities,  would  scarcely  have  sufficed  to  arrest 
that  cancer.  What,  then,  could  come  of  contrivances  and 
inaction  ?  It  was  necessary  to  meet  this  plague  with  fire 
and  sword.  No  means  should  have  been  neglected  of  pre- 
venting by  radical  and  inexorable  reforms  that  disgraceful 
and  universal  fall  which  was  to  inflict  an  irrepvirable  injury 

^^  Strict  Justine  requires  that  we  oppose  to  this  sad  picture  one  which 
Fenelon  himself  has  drawn  ol"  the  fervor  and  regularity  which  reigned 
among  the  Carmelites  :  "  Bcliold  the  daughters  of  Theresa  ;  they  lament  for 
all  sinners  who  do  not  lament  for  tlieniselves,  and  arrest  the  vengeance  which 
is  ready  to  fall.  They  have  no  longer  eyes  for  the  world,  nor  the  world  for 
them.  Their  mouths  only  open  for  sacred  songs,  and,  except  in  tlie  iiour  of 
praise,  all  tiesli  is  liere  silent  before  the  Lord.  Tender  and  delicate  frames 
bear  even  in  extreme  old  age,  witli  the  penitential  sackcloth,  the  burden  of 
labor.  Here  my  faith  is  consoled;  here  is  seen  a  noble  simplicity,  a  liberal 
poverty,  a  cheerful  penitence,  sweetened  by  the  anointing  of  tlie  love  of 
God.  Lord,  who  hast  assembled  Thy  brides  upon  the  mountain  to  pour  forth 
in  the  midst  of  them  a  river  of  peace,  keep  them  there  gathered  under  tlie 
shadow  of  Thy  wing.s ;  show  to  the  vanquished  world  those  whom  they  have 
trampled  under  foot.  Alas!  smite  not  the  eartli,  whilst  Thou  still  findest 
there  the  precious  remnant  of  Thine  election."  —  Sermon  pour  la  Fete  dt 
Sainte  Therese,  Qiuvres,  t.  xvii.  p.  204,  ed.  Lebel.  He  says  elsewhere  — 
"  The  imperfections  of  the  cloister  which  meet  with  such  contempt,  are  more 
innocent  before  God  than  the  most  shining  virtues  to  which  the  world  doea 
honor."  —  Sermon  pour  la  Profession  d'une  Religieuse. 


INTRODUCTION.  91 

upon  the  Christian  republic ;  and  nothing  was  s(;riously 
attempted  !  Let  no  one  tell  me  of  the  immense  obstacles 
which  the  Church  would  have  encountered  in  the  interested 
opposition  of  temporal  power,  in  the  cupidity  of  the  aristoc- 
rac}",  in  the  laxness  of  the  clergy,  and  tlioir  too  frequent  and 
close  complicity  with  the  evil.  Since  her  existence  began 
she  has  always  encountei^ed  such  obstacles  ;  a^jd  when  she 
willed,  and  willed  strongly,  has  always  braved  and  sur- 
mounted them.  All  the  reforms  —  even  the  most  laborious, 
such  as  those  of  St.  Theresa  and  of  Ranc^  —  ended  in  suc- 
cess, they  all  won  the  approval  even  of  worldl}^  opinion. 
They  only  required  to  be  perpetuated,  propagated,  and  im- 
posed, by  supreme  authority.  The  popes,  it  is  true,  no 
longer  exercised  throughout  Europe  the  ascendency  which 
they  had  in  the  middle  ages.  However,  it  is  difficult  to 
believe  that  in  the  sixteenth  century,  or  even  in  the  seven- 
teenth, a  vigorous  and  prolonged  effort  of  the  Holy  Chair, 
supported  by  the  episcopacy,  would  not  have  succeeded,  if 
not  in  extirpating  all  the  roots  of  the  evil,  at  least  in  arrest- 
ing its  growth,  repressing  its  excesses,  and,  above  all,  in 
exciting  the  zeal  of  the  good  monks  and  the  sympathy  of  the 
faithful  people  and  orthodox  princes.  Louis  XIV.  himself, 
wiio  showed  so  much  sympathy  for  the  individual  and  partial 
enterprise  of  Rancd,  would  not  have  refused  his  support  to  a 
more  extensive  reform,  originating  in  a  higher  quarter.  Per- 
haps even  in  t!ie  eighteenth  century  the  attempt  would  have 
succeeded.     Li  any  case  it  was  well  worth  undertaking. 

I  know  and  admire  the  generous  but  partial  endeavors  of 
St.  Charles  Borromeo,  of  St.  Francis  of  Sales,  of  the  first 
Cardinal  de  la  Rochefoucauld.  I  am  not  the  less  compelled 
tosay,  that  we  seek  in  vain  in  the  annals  of  the  Church,  since 
the  Council  of  Trent,  for  a  great  and  energetic  effort  against 
the  evil,  or  even  ibr  a  generous  and  resonant  appeal,  des- 
tined to  awaken  all  hearts,  to  show  the  danger,  to  point  out 
the  abyss,  and  to  excite  to  resistance.  That  the  bisliops, 
and  even  the  greatest  among  them,  should  have  ended  by 
remaining  passive  witnesses  of  so  many  scandals,  may  be, 
if  not  justified,  at  least  explained,  by  the  abuse  of  exemp- 
tions, which  had  disarmed  and  set  them  aside  from  all  inter- 
vention in  the  life  of  the  communities.  But  how  shall  we 
explain,  that,  among  so  many  good  popes,  not  one  was  found 
to  refuse  the  bulls  which  delivered  the  honor  and  posses- 
sions of  the  most  celebrated  monasteries  to  persons  notori- 
ously unworthy,  such  as  Bussy   d'Amboise,  and    the  Abbe 


92  THE    MONKS    OF   THE   WEST. 

Dubois?  How  shall  we  explain  that  all  of  them  have  left 
that  purulent  plague  to  eat  deeper  and  deeper,  until  the 
day  of  irremediable  ruin? 

To  this  formidable  question  there  is,  however,  one  answer. 
The  reform  of  the  religious  orders  is  scarcely  more  in  the 
power  of  the  Church  than  their  foundation.  The  Church  has 
never  directly  founded  one  religious  order.  The  fact  is  in- 
contestable. To  found  a  religious  order,  there  are  required 
men  specially  raised  and  destined  by  God  to  that  work,  a 
Benedict,  a  Francis,  a  Dominic,  an  Ignatius.  The  Church 
approves  and  encourages  such  men,  but  does  not  create 
them  by  an  authoritative  act.  And  could  it  be  otherwise 
with  reform,  which  is,  perhaps,  still  more  difficult  than 
foundation  ? 

Men  were,  then,  required,  and  none  were  to  be  found. 
God  had  not  given  them,  and  the  Church  could  not  create 
them.  Some  appeared  from  time  to  time,  but  not  enough  for 
a  grand,  general,  and  definitive  reform.  Such  was  the  reason 
why  the  rehgious  orders  were  not  reibrmed. 

There  remained,  it  is  true,  a  remedy  —  the  suppression  of 
the  greater  part  of  these  establishments.  But  the  Church 
recoils  before  so  extreme  a  cure.  It  suits  her  spirit  to  build ; 
but  to  destroy  is  always  infinitely  repugnant  to  her.  Is  she 
wrong?  She  is  always  patient  —  some  may,  perhaps,  think 
that  she  is  too  much  so. 

However  that  may  be,  the  evil  continued  and  increased, 
till  at  last  it  exhausted  the  patience  of  God  himself.  "  Di- 
vine justice,"  says  Bossuet,  "avenges  excesses  by  other 
excesses."  s^  That  which  the  Church  left  undone,  was  done 
by  the  crime  of  the  world. 

But  we  must  never  consent  to  absolve  any  crime,  under 
pretext  that  its  victims  merited  their  fate. 

"  God's  justice  is  often  served  by  man's  injustice,"  ^^  but 
it  remains  no  less  injustice. 

''  The  universe,"  says  M.  de  Maistre.  and  he  has  said  noth- 
ing more  true,  *Ms  full  of  penalties  most  justly  inflicted  on 
guilty  men  by  executioners  who  are  guiltier  still."  ^'^ 

We  will  not  deny  that  the  monks —  not  all  indeed,  but  too 
generally  —  were  unfaithful  to  their  duties,  to  their  mission, 
and  to  their  oaths;  but  did  it  belong  to  secular  power,  or, 
above  all,  to  triumphant  revolutions,  to  punish  them  ?     Were 

^^  Histoire  des  Variations,  liv.  vii.  p.  4G9. 

'*  Madame  Swetchine. 

*<>  Letter  of  iiOth  May,  181J». 


INTRODUCTION.  93 

the  disorders,  abuses,  and  scandals  of  which  they  are  ac- 
cused, and  whicli  are  too  often  proved  against  them,  a  crime 
against  social  order,  that  th.ey  gave  that  right  of  repres- 
sion, and  even  of  suppression,  which  has  been  arrogated? 
No  ;  the  Church  alone  had  the  right  of  exercising  against 
them  her  sovereign  and  infallible  justice,  and  Christians  only 
are  entitled  to  mourn  or  complain  that  she  did  not  exercise 
it  in  time.  They  know  that  God  will  demand  a  severe 
account  of  those  who  had  betrayed  that  imprescriptible  duty. 
But  they  know  also  that  He  will  judge  and  chastise  more 
severely  still  those  who  have  completed  that  great  immola- 
tion, not  certainly  with  the  view  of  regenerating  these  holy 
institutions,  or  of  appeasing  divine  justice,  but  solely  to 
gratify  the  most  ignoble  instincts  of  human  passion. 

Yes,  reforms  are  necessar}^ ;  and  the  absence  or  iiiefBcacy 
of  these  reforms  rendered  the  catastrophe  possible  and 
natural.  But  it  does  not  follow  that  the  wicked  effort  which 
cut  the  thread  of  monastic  existence  can  ever  be  justified  or 
excused.  For  never  crime  was  more  wicked  or  more  in- 
sane. Montesquieu  has  justly  stigmatized  despotism,  by 
comparing  it  to  certain  savages  in  America,  who  cut  down 
their  trees  to  gather  the  fruit.  But  what  can  we  think  of 
these  modern  savages,  who,  under  pretext  of  pruning  it  and 
cleansing  it,  have  laid  low  and  uprooted  that  venerable  tree 
which  had  sheltered  for  so  many  centuries,  labor,  knowledge, 
happiness,  and  prayer  ? 

God  preserve  us,  then,  from  becoming,  in  any  degree 
whatever,  the  accomplices  of  those  who  have  led  on,  pre- 
pared, or  justified  that  catastrophe  by  their  invectives  or 
calumnies  !  To  preserve  us  forever  i'rom  such  a  danger,  it 
is  only  necessary  to  remind  ourselves  what  has  been  the  im- 
pure source  of  these  attacks,  and  the  character  of  the 
accusers.  Let  us  judge  of  the  equity  of  the  tribunals  which 
have  condemned  the  monks  in  the  past  by  that  of  the  pro- 
cesses entered  against  them  in  our  own  days,  in  Switzerland, 
in  Spain,  and  in  Piedmont,  in  the  countries  where  they 
have  survived  the  terrible  trial  of  the  French  invasion,  and 
profited  by  the  Revolution.  Let  us  weigh  the  contradictory 
reproaches  which  overwhelm  them.  If  they  are  strict  in 
observing  their  rule,  it  is  said  that  they  are  behind  their 
age  :  if  they  do  not  observe  it,  the  same  voices  which  in- 
sulted them  as  fanatics,  exclaim  against  their  laxness.  If 
they  manage  their  domains  badly,  these  are  taken  away, 
under  pretence  that  nothing  is  made  of  them ;  and  if  they 


94  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

manaj^e  them  well,  they  are  still  taken  away,  for  fear  they 
should  become  too  rich.^^  If  they  are  numerous,  they  are 
forbidden  to  receive  novices  ;  and  when  that  state  of  things 
has  reduced  them  to  a  handful  of  old  men,  having  no  suc- 
cessors, their  patrimony  is  confiscated.  It  has  always  been 
thus,  from  Henry  VIII.  and  Gustavus  Vasa,  down  to  our  con- 
temporary sop'.iists  of  Turin  and  Berne.  The  religious 
orders  have  been  specially  reproached  with  corruption  and 
uselassness  only  by  those  powers  which  would  inherit  tlieir 
wealth,  and  who  begin  by  condemning  them  to  barrenness. 
Nothing  was  left  for  them  to  do,.and  then  it  is  said  that  they 
did  notliing.^^ 

And  more :  almost  all  the  vices  which  have  first  enfeebled 
and  then  dishonored  monastic  life,  have  resulted  from  the 
invasions  of  the  lay  spirit  and  temporal  power  in  the  govern- 
ment of  monastic  things.  If  discipline  and  austerity  had 
perished,  without  hope  of  return,  from  miny  of  the  cloisters, 
was  not  that  caused,  as  we  have  seen,  by  the  introduction 
of  the  commende?  and  was  not  this  odious  and  flagrant  vio- 
lation of  the  formal  will  of  the  founders,  always  solicited  or 
imposed  by  princes  ?  It  is  consequently  as  much  by  the 
covetousness  and  bad  faith  of  lay  power,  as  bj''  the  cul- 
pable weakness  of  pastors  too  docile  to  that  power,  that  the 
work  of  charity  became  thus  the  prey  of  egotism  and  sen- 
suality. 

We  shall  see  hereafter  by  what  a  series  of  encroachments, 
hindrances,  and  deceptions,  many  Catholic  princes,  aided  by 
their  lav/  officers,  attempted  to  wear  out  and  weaken  the  re- 
ligious spirit  —  the  spirit  of  penitence  and  austerity,  which 
is  always  a  spirit  of  strength  and  liberty  —  in  those  cloisters, 
which  at  last  seemed  to  breathe  no  other  spirit  than  that 
of  the  world  and  of  profane  life. 

But  even  now  we  have  a  right  to  say  to  the  habitual 
detractors  of  the  monks,  who  are  at  the  same  time  the  apolo- 
gists of  their  proscription.  Do  you  know  what  is  the  only 
reproach  which  you  can  justly  address  to  them?  It  is  that 
of  resembling  yourselves.  What  is  this  degradation,  this 
sensuality,  this  reluchement,  of  which  you  accuse   them  as 

*'  We  only  repeat  the  line  of  argument  and  conduct  employed  against  the 
convents  of  Aargau  from  1835  to  1845. 

*^  Lorain,  Histoire  de  Ciuny,  p.  14.  The  Abbey  of  Muri  had  offered,  in 
1837,  to  tiie  canton  of  Aargau,  to  maintain  a  great  school  for  classical  and 
professional  education ;  the  cantonal  government  answered  by  a  law,  wiiich 
interdicted  all  monks  from  teaching;  after  which  it  abolished  the  monastic 
community  as  useless  to  the  state. 


INTRODUCTION.  95 

a  crime,  if  not  too  exact  a  conformity  to  your  own  manner 
of  life? 

And  from  whence  do  these  strange  censors  come?  What? 
is  it  amidst  tlie  joys  and  freedom  of  secular  life,  its  wealth 
and  its  leisure,  that  you  have  learned  to  judge  so  strictly  the 
different  degrees  of  mortification  and  austerity,  of  facts  and 
vigils?  Is  there  not  enough  in  history  of  one  Henry  VIII., 
a  king  himself  so  temperate,  so  just,  and  so  chaste,  that  he 
might  well  despoil  and  ruin  monasteries,  under  pretext  of 
punishing  their  incontinence  and  irregularity  ?  Is  it  you, 
who  perhaps  have  never  been  seen  to  bend  the  knee  in  a 
Christian  temple  since  your  childhood,  who  thus  sit  in  judg- 
ment on  the  regularity  of  prayers  and  of  the  canonical  office? 
Have  you  so  scrupulously  repressed  in  yourselves  all  the 
desires  and  weaknesses  of  the  flesh,  that  you  are  entitled  to 
weigh  in  the  balance  of  the  sanctuary  the  irregularities,  more 
or  less  established,  of  certain  monks?  "Tell  us  your  own 
efforts,''*  said  Bossuet  to  some  rigorists  of  his  time.  Ah  !  if 
you  would  begin  by  trying  the  most  relaxed  rule,  by  con- 
straining yourselves  to  follow  the  observance  of  the  most 
degenerate  order,  you  might  ascend  with  some  authority  the 
tribunal  of  history,  and  your  bitter  censure  would  inspire 
some  confidence.  What !  the  Benedictines  eat  meat !  the 
barefooted  Carmelites  wear  shoes !  the  Cordeliers  do  not 
encircle  their  loins  with  a  cord  !  Indeed  !  and  you  who 
accuse  them,  what  have  you  done  of  all  that  ?  They  do  not 
practise  discipline  upon  themselves  so  often  as  formerly. 
But  how  many  times  a  week  do  3'ou  practise  it?  They  do 
not  devote  so  many  hours  to  prayer  and  labor  as  they  ought. 
But  where  are  the  fields  which  you  have  fertilized  by  your 
sweat,  or  the  souls  which  you  have  saved  by  your  supplica- 
tions ?  After  all,  the  most  criminal,  the  most  depraved,  live 
only  as  you  live :  this  is  their  crime.  If  it  is  one,  it  is  not 
your  part  to  chastise  it.  What !  you  taint  the  Church  with 
your  vices,  and  then  you  reproach  her  with  being  tainted 
and  stained  !  You  administer  poison  to  your  victim,  and 
impute  it  to  him  as  a  crime  when  he  succumbs  to  it!  Ah  ! 
let  the  faithful,  the  zealous,  and  the  pure,  indignantly  mourn 
the  monastic  downfall;  let  a  Bernard,  a  Pierre  Damien,  a 
Charles  Borromeo,  a  Francis  de  Sales,  a  Catherine  of  Sienna, 
a  Theresa,  denounce  them  to  God  and  to  posterity.  That  we 
can  conceive.  We  could  not,  indeed,  imagine  them  to  be 
silent.  But  you,  the  heirs  or  panegyrists  of  the  authors  of 
that  evil  which  has  corrupted  the  monks,  as  well  as  of  the 


96  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

spoliation  which  they  have  sustained,  —  you  ought  to  be  the 
last  to  express  astonishment  or  regret;  for  in  so  doing  you 
pronounce  judgment  against  your  fathers,  or  against  your 
own  selves. 

It  is  surely  time  to  close  the  domain  of  history  to  these 
false  philosophers,  to  this  mean  literature,  to  these  base  syco- 
phants of  oppression,  who.  bent  on  following  in  the  train  of 
the  Vandals,  endeavor  still  to  tarnish  the  memory  of  those 
whom  their  predecessors  have  scarcely  yet  delivered  from 
<:he  axe  of  the  headsman  and  the  hammer  of  the  destroyer. 

Modern  society,  which  has  fattened  on  the  spoils  of  the 
monastic  orders,  might  content  itself,  with  that ;  their  remains 
should  not  be  insulted.  Let  it  leave  to  Christians,  to  the 
apologists  of  the  Religious  life,  to  those  who  endeavor  to  re- 
estabhsh  it  by  purifying  it  from  all  recent  dross,  the  task  of 
d'iuouncing  in  the  past,  in  order  to  prevent  the  possibility  of 
their  return,  those  disorders  which  have  degraded  it.  In 
the  midst  even  of  their  degeneration,  the  most  lawless  monks 
have  been  guilty  only  in  the  eyes  of  God  and  the  Church. 
Whatever  may  have  been  their  sins  against  their  own  rule, 
against  their  condition,  against  their  conscience,  they  have 
committed  none  against  their  fellow-creatures  or  against  so- 
ciety. 

Vain  will  be  any  endeavor  to  alter  the  distinctive  charac- 
ter of  their  social  historical  part,  which  is  that  of  having 
lived  to  do  good.  Humanly  speaking,  they  have  done  noth- 
ing else  :  all  their  career  is  occupied  with  peopling  deserts, 
protecting  the  poor,  and  enriching  the  world.  Sadly  degen- 
erated towards  their  decline,  much  less  active  and  less  indus- 
trious than  in  their  origin,  they  were  never  less  charitable. 
Where  is  the  country,  where  is  the  man,  whom  they  have 
injured?  Where  are  the  monuments  of  their  oppression? 
the  memorials  of  their  rapacity?  If  we  follow  the  furrow 
which  they  have  dug  through  history,  we  shall  find  every- 
where only  the  traces  of  their  beneficence. 

And  even  if  it  had  been  otherwise  in  the  time  of  their 
decay,  might  not  we  find  in  their  glorious  past  overpowering 
claims  upon  the  respect  and  consideration  of  posterity?  Can 
we  forget  the  shelter  which  was  open  during  so  many  centu- 
ries to  the  newborn  forces  of  Christendom?  Shall  that 
Christendom,  matured  and  emancipated,  use  her  vigor  and 
liberty  to  dishonor  the  sacred  cradles  of  her  infancy?  Ought 
not  that  long  succession  of  acts  of  charity,  courage,  pa- 
tience, magnanimous  and  persevering  efibrts  against  rebel- 


INTRODUCTION.  97 

lious  nature  and  human  weakness,  of  wliicli  the  liistoiy  of 
the  first  times  of  all  the  religious  orders  is  composed,  disarm 
injustice  and  ingratitude  forever  ?  Ought  not  all  these  ac- 
cumulated labors,  all  these  services  rendered,  all  these 
benefits  lavished  on  so  many  generations  by  the  spiritual 
ancestors  of  the  most  obscure  monasteries,  have  sufficed  to 
assure  to  their  successors  the  right  common  to  all  men,  of 
peace,  freedom,  and  life  ? 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

RUIN. 

They  saw  the  sanctuary  desolate,  and  the  altar  profaned,  av  1  the  p;,'ite9  burnt  up,  and 
shrubs  growing  in  tlie  courts  as  in  a  forest  or  in  one  of  tht  mountains.  —  1  Maccab. 
iv.  38. 

But  no  !  neither  justice  nor  pity  ;  neither  recollection  nor 
gratitude ;  neither  respect  for  the  past  nor  care  for  the 
future :  such  has  been  the  law  of  modern  progress  when  it 
has  encountered  these  old  and  venerable  remains  upon  its 
road.  Hate  and  cupidity  have  spared  nothing. 
.  Of  all  the  human  institutions  which  have  been  assailed  or 
overthrown  by  revolution,  something  has  always  endured. 
]\Ionarchy,  although  weakened  and  shaken,  has  proved  that 
it  can  reassume  its  ascendency.  Nobility,  although  every- 
where, except  in  England,  annulled  and  degi'aded,  still  exists 
among  us.  Industrial  and  mercantile  wealth  has  never  been 
more  powerful.  The  ancient  monastic  orders  alone  have 
been  condemned  to  perish  without  return.  The  only  one  of 
all  the  institutions  of  the  past  which  has  been  totally  spoiled 
and  annihilated  is  the  most  useful  and  the  most  legitimate  of 
all  —  the  only  one  which  never  had  an  abuse  of  strength  or 
conquest  of  violence  to  reproach  itself  with,  but  which  all 
the  violences  and  tyrannies  have  joined  hands  to  annihilate 
by  the  vilest  of  aggressions,  tliat  ^vhich  kills  in  order  to  rob. 

The  torrents  of  lava  vomited  forth  by  Vesuvius  and  Etna 
have  till  now  stopped  and  turned  aside  from  the  dwellings 
which  the  Camaldules  and  Benedictines  have  chosen  for 
themselves  upon  the  sides  of  these  terrible  craters.  The 
moral  volcano  which  has  ravaged  the  Christian  world  with 

VOL.  I.  9 


98  THE   MONKS    OF    THE   WEST. 

its  eruptions  lias  had  less  discernment ;  it  has  carried  away 
the  whole.  All  has  been  swallowed  up  in  the  same  ruin.  It 
is  not  on]}"  in  the  towns,  in  the  great  centres  of  population, 
in  contact  with  the  strong  currents  of  modern  life,  that  this 
destruction  has  had  its  full  course  :  it  has  marched  through 
deserts  and  forests  to  seek  its  victims.  There  has  been  no 
solitude  so  profound,  no  mountain  so  precipitous,  no  valley 
so  sequestered,  as  to  balk  it  of  its  prey.  It  has  regarded 
neither  sex  nor  age.  It  has  laid  its  hands  upon  the  defence- 
less old  age  of  the  monk  as  well  as  upon  the  innocent  and 
touching  weakness  of  the  nun;  it  has  seized  them  both  in 
their  cells,  expelled  them  from  their  lawful  dwelling-place, 
rol)l)ed  them  of  their  patrimony,  and  cast  them  out  as  vaga- 
bonds and  outlaws,  without  asylum  and  without  resource, 
upon  the  world.  Disciples  of  Christ,  too  often  imperfect, 
bat  re-established  and  consecrated  by  an  odious  persecution, 
they  have  henceforth  been  able  to  say,  with  their  Divine 
Master  :  "  The  foxes  have  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have 
nests ;  but  the  Son  of  man  hath  not  where  to  lay  His 
head."  1 

To  be  thus  put  out  of  law,  and  under  the  ban  of  human- 
ity, it  is  necessary  that  you  should  be  the  most  ancient  and 
constant  benefactors  of  Christian  society  !  And  by  what 
bauds  is  this  done  ?  By  the  miserable  power  of  a  crew  of 
sophists  and  calumniators,  who  in  reality  have  done  nothing 
ibr  humanity  —  who  have  bestowed  upon  it,  under  the  guise 
of  a  benefit,  only  an  increase  of  pride,  jealousy,  and  discord, 
—  who  have  built  nothing,  preserved  nothing  ;  but  who  have 
begun  to  write  their  discourses  with  the  venom  of  fldsehood, 
•who  have  signed  their  conclusions  with  blood,  and  whose 
theories  all  end  in  the  strokes  of  the  axe.  Divine  justice, 
for  the  most  part,  has  already  seized  them.  Some  have 
learned  to  know,  even  in  this  world,  that  the  wealth  wrested 
irom  others  is  neither  profitable  nor  satisfactory.  More  than 
one,  before  the  end  of  his  career,  has  had  reason  to  envy  the 
repose  of  those  whose  patrimony  he  had  cruelly  spoiled,  and 
whoso  peace  he  had  troubled. 

And  as  if  such  wickedness  by  itself  was  not  enough  to 
bring  down  the  vengeance  of  God,  the  forfeit  was  aggrava- 
ted by  all  the  details  and  all  the  circumstances  of  its  exec^u- 
tion.  We  find  nowhere  in  history  the  record  of  a  devastation 
more  blind  and  brutal.     What  good  man  has  not  shuddered 

»  Matth.  yiii.  20. 


INTRODUCTION.  99 

at  the  si^'lit,  or  even  at  the  thought,  of  a  ruin  so  vast  and 
pitiless,  of  desolation  so  universal,  of  these  remains  which 
still  lie  around  us,  melancholy,  polluted,  and  shapeless? 
What  invasion  of  barbarians  has  ever  annihilated  and  de- 
voured at  once  so  many  admirable  monuments,  so  mauy 
popular  recollections,  so  man}'  treasures  of  art  and  poetry, 
so  many  resources  for  public  charity  and  the  pressing  neces- 
sities of  the  people  ?  What  an  ignomim'ous  contrast  between 
those  ancient  i-aces,  which  thought  only  of  building,  enri(;h- 
ing,  and  preserving,  and  the  recent  generations,  which  know 
only  how  to  overthrow,  to  destroy,  and  to  confiscate  —  I)e- 
tween  the  fathers,  who  were  always  giving  away,  and  the 
sons,  who  are  always  stealing  the  alms  of  their  fathers  ! 

However,  throughout  Europe,  already  so  much  dishonored 
by  the  ravages  of  the  Reformation  and  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, that  ignoble  impulse  has  still  been  prevalent  since  the 
commencement  of  our  century.  The  licensed  robbers  of 
revolutionary  spoliation,  and  those  tame  Vandals  who  did 
not  even  redeem  their  barbarous  sacrilege  by  the  savage 
energy  of  the  French  republicans,  have  continued,  in  Russia, 
in  Spain,  in  Switzerland,  and  in  Piedmont,  the  murderous 
work  of  Joseph  II.  and  of  the  Constituent  Assembly. 

Not  only  amid  the  storms  of  a  triumphant  or  struggling 
revolution,  when  the  people  in  their  delirium  seem  scarcely 
to  be  conscious  of  their  crimes,  have  these  acts  been  com- 
mitted. No  ;  it  is  in  times  of  peace,  and  in  direct  contra- 
diction to  the  wish  of  the  population,  that  a  sapient 
buieaucracy,  eager  to  detect  and  chastise  as  a  crime  the 
least  error  in  accounts,  has  been  seen  proceeding  with  me- 
thodical gravity  to  the  work  of  spoliation,  to  a  palpable  and 
permanent  violation  to  the  rights  of  property.  It  is  not  the 
work  of  ibreign  conquerors,  nor  even  revolutionary  hordes ; 
it  is  too  often  the  crowned  descendants,  the  old  founders 
and  benefactors,  the  governments,  regular,  pacific,  and  recog- 
nized by  all,  who  have  raised  destruction  into  a  system,  and 
prefaced  it  by  confiscation. 

The  son  of  Maria  Theresa  suppressed  in  his  states  a  hun- 
dred and  twenty-four  monasteries,  and  confiscated  their 
goods,  valued  at  more  than  two  hundred  milh'ons  of  florins  ; 
which  has  not  prevented  his  empire  from  being  thiee  times 
bankrupt  since  then.  But  even  during  our  own  lifetime  it 
has  been  calculated  that  in  five  years,  between  1830  and 
1835,  three  thousand  monasteries  have  disappeared  from  the 
soil  of  Europe.     In  the  kingdom  of  Portugal  ah}ne,  three  hun^ 


100  THE   MONKS   OF    THE    WEST. 

dred  were  destroyed  under  the  regency  of  Don  Pedro.  1 
am  not  aware  that  the  number  of  those  which  Queen  Chris- 
tina annihilated  in  Spain  by  a  single  dash  of  her  pen,  lias  yet 
been  estimated.^  Two  hundred  others  were  drowned  in  the 
blood  of  Poland^  by  that  Muscovite  autocracy  which  always 
maintains  so  perfect  an  understanding  with  the  democrats 
of  the  rest  of  Europe  to  enchain  and  despoil  the  Church. 

To  annihilate  thus  ew  masse  these  venerable  retreats,  which 
for  so  many  centuries  have  furnished  a  shelter  to  the  most 
precious  monuments,  and  a  sanctuary  to  the  dearest  recollec- 
tions, of  all  the  nations  of  Christendom,  implies  an  avowed 
and  practical  contempt  for  all  that  inen  have  hitherto  re- 
spected and  loved.  This  has  not  been  wanting.  The  dese- 
crators  of  monasteries  have  not  hesitated  to  outrage  the 
glor}^,  heroism,  and  holy  traditions  which  are  essential  to 
national  life  and  independence,  in  order  to  reach  more  efi'ec- 
tually  the  men  and  things  of  God.  What  the  atheistical 
Republic  dared  to  do  in  Prance  under  the  Terror,  the  Prot- 
estant monarchy  had  already  done  in  PiUgland.  Henry  IV. 
and  Louis  XIV.  were  not  the  first  kings  whose  remains  had 
been  profaned  and  scattered  by  the  destruction  of  cloisters. 
The  body  of  King  James  IV.  of  Scotland,  killed  in  defence 
of  his  country,*  was  disinterred  and  decapitated  by  workmen, 
alter  the  confiscation  by  Henry  VIII.  of  the  abbey  whither 
his  noble  remains  had  been  carried.^  The  bones  of  Alfred 
the  Great  met  with  no  more  respect,  when  the  last  remnants 
of  the  monastery  which  he  had  founded  for  his  own  sepul- 
chre^ were  removed  to  give  place  to  a  prison.  The  most 
popular  memories  have  found  no  more  grace  than  the  most 
obscure  cenobites.  Neither  Eichard  Cceur  de  Lion  nor 
Blanche  of  Castile  have  been  able  to  protect  Foutevrault  or 
Maubuisson  from  the  common  fate. 

The  heroes  who  slept  under  the  guard  of  the  monks  have 
had  the  same  fate  as  the  kings.  The  ashes  of  the  Cid  have 
been  carried  away  from  the  confiscated  monastery  of  St. 
Pierre  de  Cardenas,  which  he  had  chosen  for  his  tomb,  and 
>vhere  he  left  his  Ximena  when  he  went  into  exile,  tearing 


*  In  1835,  after  the  enligldened  people  of  Madrid  had  burned  alive  some 
Jesuits  in  their  convent. 

^  The  Emperor  Kicliohis  1.   destroyed   187  by  his  ukase  of  the  31st  Julj 

*  At  tlie  battle  of  Flodden.  in  1513. 

*  At  Slit'cn,  near  \Vindsor. 
®  At  Winchester. 


INTRODUCTION.  10  i 

himself  from  her  "''as  the  nail  is  torn  from  the  finger."'''  The 
magnificent  convent  which  Gonsalvo  de  Cordova  founded  in 
Grenada  for  the  Jeronymites  has  been  clianged  into  barracks, 
the  church  into  a  magazine,  and  the  sword  of  tliat  great  cap- 
tain, till  then  suspended  before  the  high  altar,  taken  down 
and  sold  by  auction  !^ 

These  wretched  devastators  have  not  even  spared  the  me- 
morials of  human  love,  purified  by  the  peace  of  the  cloister 
and  the  prayers  of  the  monks,  but  which  the  barbarous  en- 
lightenment of  our  days  has  confounded,  in  brutal  blindness, 
with  the  relics  of  faith  and  penitence.  The  tomb  of  Heloise 
has  been  destroyed  at  Paraclet,  as  well  as  that  of  Laura 
among  the  Cordeliers  of  Avignon  ;  and  the  body  of  Inez  de 
Castro,  confided  by  the  unpitying  grief  of  Pedro  of  Aragon 
to  the  sons  of  St.  Bernard,^  has  been  snatched  from  its  royal 
mausoleum  to  be  profaned  by  the  soldiers.^*^ 

But  even  in  confiscating  the  secular  abbeys,  and  condemn- 
ing their  peaceful  inhabitants  to  exile  or  death,  the  ruins  at 
least  might  have  been  preserved ;  still,  as  in  England  and 
Germany,  we  might  have  been  permitted  to  behold  in  their 
funereal  beauty,  some  remains  of  those  monuments  of  inimit- 
able art  and  sublime  architecture.  But  the  modern  Vandals 
have  improved  upon  the  example  given  them  by  the  pre- 
tended reformers  of  three  centuries  ago.  In  Spain,  in  Por- 
tugal, and,  above  all,  in  France,  the  art  of  destruction  has 
reached  a  perfection  unknown  to  the  most  barbarous  of  our 
ancestors. 

Among  us  it  has  not  been  enough  to  pillage,  to  profane, 
and  to  confiscate  ;  it  has  been  necessary  to  overthrow,  to 
raze,  not  to  leave  one  stone  upon  another.     What  do  I  say  ? 

'  Poema  del  Cid.  —  See  the  delightful  masterpiece  of  Ozanam,  entitled, 
Un  Pelerinage  aii  Pays  da  Cid,. 

®  In  1835,  and  for  the  sum  of  three  francs,  according  to  the  Spanish  jour- 
nal Ueraldo,  of  January  18rt4.  Tliis  monastery,  one  of  the  most  magnificent 
edifices  of  Grenada,  luid  at  first  been  constructed  by  Gonsalvo  for  a  palace. 
King  Ferdinand,  the  Catiiolic,  having  gone  to  visit  liim  there,  said  to  him, 
sharply,  "This  palace  is  more  splendid  than  mine."  "True,  Sire,"  re- 
sponded Gonsalvo,  "  and  it  is  destined  for  a  greater  lord  than  you,  for  I  give 
it  to  God."  I  quote  the  tradition  as  it  was  related  to  me  at  Grenada  in  1843, 
by  a  colonel  of  cavalry  who  superintended  the  grooming  of  the  horses  of  iiis 
regiment,  under  the  admirable  cloisters  due  to  tlie  generosity  of  the  great 
captain. 

®  At  Alcobatja. 

'"  Let  us  add,  for  our  greater  shame,  that  these  soldiers  were  Frenchmen 
hired  by  Don  Pedro.  Tlie  hair  of  Inez  of  Castro,  stolen  from  her  violated 
tomb,  is  in  the  house  of  an  amateur  of  Paris.  In  another  liouse  are  shewn 
the  bones  of  Ximena ! 

9^ 


102  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

to  ransack  the  bowels  of  the  earth  that  the  last  of  these  con- 
secrated stones  might  be  rooted  out !  It  has  been  said  with 
too  much  truth,!^  tliat  no  nation  has  ever  suffered  herself  ta 
be  thus  despoiled  by  her  own  citizens  of  those  monuments 
which  best  attested,  in  her  own  bosom,  not  only  the  culture 
of  the  arts  and  sciences,  but  the  noblest  efforts  of  thought 
and  the  most  generous  devotedness  of  virtue.  The  empire 
of  the  East  has  not  been  ravaged  by  the  Turks  as  France  has 
been,  and  still  is,  by  that  band  of  insatiable  destroyers,  who, 
after  having  purchased  these  vast  constructions  and  immense 
domains  at  the  lowest  rate,  work  them  like  quarries  for  sac- 
rilegious profit.  I  have  seen  with  my  own  eyes  the  capitals 
and  columns  of  an  abbey  church  which  I  could  name,  em- 
ployed as  so  much  metal  for  the  neighboring  road.  Color- 
sellers  who  should  remove  with  a  palette-knife  the  carmine 
or  ultramarine  from  the  pictures  of  Van  Eyck  or  Perugino  to 
increase  the  stores  in  their  shops,  could  do  no  more. 

In  Asia  Minor,  in  Egypt,  and  in  Greece,  there  still  remain, 
here  and  there,  some  fragments  which  the  rage  of  the  unbe- 
lievers has  spared,  some  celebrated  places  where  the  pious 
ardor  of  the  pilgrim  and  the  curiosity  of  the  erudite  can 
still  satisfy  themselves.  But  in  France  and  in  the  countries 
which  imitate  her, 

"  Tota  t-eguntur 
Pergama  duraetis  :  etiaru  periert!  ruinse." 

Vandalism  has  only  paused  when  there  was  nothing  more  to 
crumble  down.  Sometimes  the  very  name  and  local  recollec- 
tion of  monasteries  which  have  peopled  and  put  into  cultiva- 
tion the  entire  surrounding  country  are  thus  obliterated.  Whilst 
a  recondite  erudition  exerts  itself  to  analyze  the  Etruscan  or 
Pelasgic  ruins,  and  falls  into  ecstasy  before  the  least  frag- 
ment of  a  Roman  road,  we  have  ignored  for  years  the  very 
site  and  new  destination  of  such  illustrious  centres  of  virtue 
and  Christian  knowledge  as  Cluny,  Citeaux,  Fleury,  and  Mar- 
moutier,  and,  still  more  so,  of  many  other  abbeys  less  cele- 
brated, each  of  which,  however,  had  its  history,  full  of  merits 
and  services  worthy  of  everlasting  recollection. 

"  Vix  reliquias,  vix  nomina  servans 
Obruitur,  propriis  non  agnoscenda  ruinis." 

It  is  in  maps  and  books  of  ancient  geography  that  the 
eites  of  these  admirable  creations  of  faith  and  charity  must 

"  De  Guilhermy,  Annal.  ArcMol.,  i.  101. 


INTRODUCTION.  103 

he  sought;  too  often  it  is  vain  to  question  the  failing  memory 
of  the  neighboring  inhabitants,  a  race  stupefied  by  incre- 
dulity and  a  frightful  materialism.  They  reply  to  you  as  the 
Bedouins  of  the  desert  reply  to  the  traveller  who  questions 
them  of  the  genealogy  of  the  Pharaohs  or  the  annals  of  the 
Thebaid. 

Elsewhere,  it  is  true,  these  august  sanctuaries  remain 
standing,  but  only  to  be  mutilated  and  metamorphosed,  to  be 
devoted  by  the  hand  of  the  spoiler  to  such  a  destination  as 
shall  inflict  upon  them  an  ineffaceable  stain.  Here  it  is  a 
stable,  there  a  theatre,  in  another  case  a  barrack  or  a  jail, 
which  we  find  installed  in  all  that  remains  of  the  most  re- 
nowned abbeys.  St.  Bernard  and  his  five  hundred  monks 
have  been  replaced  at  Clairvaux  by  five  hundred  convicts. 
St.  Benedict  of  Aniane,  the  great  monastic  reformer  of  the 
time  of  Charlemagne,  has  not  been  more  successful  in  turning 
away  this  outrage  from  the  house  of  which,  even  in  heaven, 
he  bears  the  name.  Fontevrault  and  Mont  St.  Michael  have 
submitted  to  the  same  fate.  These  houses  of  prayer  and  peace 
have  'become  what  is  called  in  our  days  centred  houses  of  de- 
tention, in  order,  no  doubt,  that  they  might  not  contradict  M. 
de  i\iaistre,  who  had  said,  "  You  will  have  to  build  prisons 
with  the  ruins  of  the  convents  which  you  have  destroyed."  12 

Profanations  still  more  revolting  have  been  seen  among  us. 
At  Cluny,  the  most  illustrious  monastery  of  Christendom,  the 
church,  which  was  the  largest  in  France  and  in  Europe, 
yielding  in  dimensions  only  to  St.  Peter's  in  Rome, after  hav- 
ing been  sacked  and  demolished,  stone  by  stone,  for  twenty 
years,  has  been  transformed  into  stud-stables,!^  and  the  start- 

"^  Eysse,  Beaulieu,  Cadillac  Loos,  and  other  central  prisons,  are  also  an- 
cient abbeys.  The  town  of  Limoges  appears  specially  favored  under  tliis 
civiliziiig  point  of  view  :  its  central  prison  has  been  built  on  the  site  of  the 
Abbey  of  St.  Augustin-lez-Limoges,  but  with  materials  procured  from  the 
ruins  of  the  chief  abbey  of  the  order  of  Grandmont,  and  its  theatre  is  raised 
upon  the  site  of  the  church  of  the  monastery  of  St.  Martial,  the  most  ancient 
of  Limousin.  At  Paris  we  see,  in  our  own  day,  the  theatre  of  the  Pantheon 
installed  in  the  recently  destroyed  church  of  St.  Benedict,  and  a  coflfee- 
housc  ill  the  choir  of  Premontres. 

'^  Let  us  add,  that  Carabrom,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  foundations  of 
St.  Px  .nard  in  Belgium,  has  also  served  a  long  time  as  stud-stables  to  the 
Count  Duval  of  Beaulieu,  and  that  in  1845  the  Abbey  of  St.  Croix,  at  St.  L6, 
has  been  demolished,  to  make  room  for  a  depot  of  stallions.  —  Bulletin  Mon- 
umeiual,  t.  xii.  p.  295.  Here  are  a  list  of  other  monasteries  serving  now  ag 
stud'-taules  .since  the  budget  of  1851 :  Braisne,  Langonnet,  iviuuti*r-en-Der, 
Kosieivs,  St.  Maxient,  St.  Menehould,  St.  Pierre-sur-Dive,  St.  Nicolas  de 
Caen.  With  regard  to  abbeys  which,  like  Notre  Dame  of  Saintes,  or  St. 
Germain  of  Compiegne,  are  now  used  as  stables,  they  are  innumerable 


104  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

ing-post  of  the  stallions  occupied  still,  in  1844,  the  place  of 
the  high  altar. 

Le  Bee,  the  Christian  academy  immortalized  by  Lanfranc 
and  St.  Anselm,  the  cradle  of  Catholic  philosophy,  has  been 
made  useful  in  the  same  fashion.  Why,  indeed,  should  St. 
Anselm  have  found  mercy  for  his  abbey  any  more  than 
Pierre  le  Venerable  ?  Is  it  not  thus  that  the  sons  of  strength 
and  fortune  are  accustomed  to  honor  the  great  men  of  the 
past  ?  Have  not  the  Turks  done  the  same  with  the  places 
where  Aristotle  and  Plato  taught,  and  where  Demosthenes 
spoke  ? 

If  a  certain  indignation  mixes  itself  with  the  bitterness  of 
these  regrets,  it  may  be  pardoned  to  a  man  who  has  given  up 
much  of  his  time  to  seek,  in  almost  all  the  countries  of 
Europe,  the  vestiges  of  monastic  grandeur  and  benevolence, 
and  who,  in  his  laborious  course,  has  stumbled  everywhere 
over  the  ruins  accumulated  by  modern  barbarism.  He  has 
studied  with  scrupulous  attention  the  means  employed  to  put 
the  hoarded  treasures  of  charity  once  more,  as  it  is  said,  in 
circulation,  and  to  restore  the  wealth  of  3Iort-main  to  what  is 
now  regarded  as  life.  He  has  collected  the  last  recollections 
of  old  men,  often  octogenarians,  who  had  seen  the  monks  in 
their  splendor  and  their  freedom.  He  has  sometimes  reached 
the  site  of  these  sanctuaries  just  at  the  moment  when  the 
pick-axe  of  the  destroyer  was  raised  to  break  down  the  last 
arch  of  their  churches.  He  has  been  denied  admittance  at 
the  gate  of  the  Chartreuse  of  Seville  by  a  Belgian  Vandal, 
who  had  built  up  therein  a  china  manufactory.  He  has 
found  swine  installed  by  German  Lutherans  in  the  cells  of 
Nothfjottes}^  and  by  French  Catholics  under  the  admirable 
sculptures  of  the  cloister  of  Cadouin.^^  Thus  he  has  learned 
that  it  is  possible  to  meet  with  men  whose  voracious  cupidity 
and  impious  grossness  degrade  tliem  beneath  the  brute. 

It  is  not  so  everywhere,  I  know.  In  many  quarters  in- 
dustry has  shielded  these  spoils  from  the  destroying  ham- 
mer for  a  time,  that  she  might  enthrone  her  speculations 
and  manufactures  there.  In  such  a  transformation  nothing 
would  seem  more  natural  than  to  profit  by  the  example  and 
tradition  recalled  by  these  sacred  places,  A  new  and  effec- 
tive application  of  monastic  principles  might  have  been  made, 
by  prudent  and  continuous  means,  to  the  great  gatherings  of 
workmen  who  had  replaced  the  monks,  and  to   these  grand 

'''  God's  Want,  a  convent  of  Nassau. 
'*  Cistercian  abbey  in  rerigord. 


INTRODUCTION.  105 

asylums  of  labor,  where  the  regularity  of  the  work,  the 
morality  of  the  workers,  their  intellectual  satisfaction,  and 
temporal  and  spiritual  interests,  assui-edly  require  other 
guarantees  than  regulations  purely  material.  But  the  world 
has  remained  insensible  to  the  teachings  of  the  past.  ^Vith 
very  rare  exceptions.^^  the  most  undisguised  materialism  has 
everywhere  replaced  the  lessons  and  recollections  of  spiritual 
life. 

Upon  the  site  of  these  monuments,  created  by  disinterest- 
edness and  charity,  or  beside  their  ruins,  there  rises  now 
some  tame  and  ugly  recent  erection,  designed  to  propagate 
the  worship  of  gain,  and,  with  it,  the  degradation  of  the  soul. 
In  the  place  of  those  communities  where  the  dignity  of  the 
poor  was  so  eloquently  proclaimed,  and  where  their  sons 
walked  hand  in  hand  with  the  sons  of  kings  and  princes,  the 
genius  of  cupidit}-  has  placed  a  kind  of  prison,  where  it  too 
often  exercises  its  ingenuity  in  finding  out  to  what  point  it 
can  drain  away  the  strength  of  the  artisan,  reducing  his 
wages  by  competition  to  the  lowest  possible  rate,  and  his  in- 
telligence to  its  most  restrained  exercise,  by  the  employ- 
ment of  machinery.  Sometimes,  also,  the  spinning-mill  is  in- 
stalled under  the  roof  of  the  ancient  sanctuary.  Instead  of 
echoing  night  and  day  the  praises  of  God,  these  dishonored 
arches  too  often  repeat  only  blasphemies  and  obscene  cries, 
mingling  with  the  shrill  voice  of  the  machinery,  the  grinding 
of  the  saw,  or  the  monotonous  clank  of  the  piston.  And 
upon  these  doors,  heretofore  open  to  all,  where  charity  kept 
unwearied  watch,  we  read  in  great  letters.  It  isforhidden  to 
enter  here  w it! lo at  permission ;  i''  and  this  for  fear  the  secrets 
of  this  profaning  manufacture  may  be  purloined  by  some  in- 
opportune visitor  or  greedy  rival. 

Not  thus  were  marked  the  gates  of  those  monasteries  of 
old,  which  remained  to  their  last  day  accessible  to  all ;  where, 

'"  Among  these  it  is  our  duty  to  point  out  the  manufactory  conducted  by 
M.  Peigne-Delacour,  at  the  ancient  Cistercian  abbey  of  Ourscamp,  near 
Noyon,  and  that  of  MM.  Seguin  and  Montgolfier,  at  the  Abbey  of  Fontenet, 
near  Montbard:  these  gentlemen  have  succeeded  in  uniting  an  active  solici- 
tude for  the  moral  and  physical  well-being  of  their  workmen,  with  the  most 
intelligent  respect  for  the  admirable  ruins  of  which  they  have  become  pro- 
prietors. 

"  We  will  not  instance  certain  ancient  abbeys  of  France  where  that  in- 
scription is  still  to  be  read,  since  we  have  visited  them  in  spite  of  the  prohi- 
bition. But  we  may  recall  how  at  Nelley,  a  Cistercian  abbey  near 
Southampton,  whose  admirable  ruins  are  very  much  frequented,  the  follow- 
ing edifying  and  encouraging  inscription  may  be  read,  Those  who  do  nit  fol 
low  the  beaten  path  will  be  prosecuted. 


106  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

far  from  sending  away  the  poor  and  the  traveller,  they  feared 
no  indiscreet  look,  no  untimely  visit,  thanks  to  the  sentiment 
of  pious  and  fraternal  confidence  which  reigned  everywhere, 
and  which  dictated  that  inscription,  perceived  by  us  some 
years  ago»  upon  the  door  of  one  of  the  dependencies  of  the 
Abbey  of  Moriniondo,  near  Milan,^^  Entra,  o  passaggiere !  e 
prega  Maria,  madre  di  grazia. 

And  even  where,  as  most  frequently  happens,  it  is  the 
agricultural  class  which  has  indirectly  inherited  these  fruits 
of  spoliation,  is  there  not  room  for  grave  reflections  ?  Who 
could  venture  to  deny  the  incontestable  progress  of  well- 
oeing  and  independence  among  our  rural  populations  since 
1798?  Who  does  not  applaud  and  admire  their  freer  and 
happier  condition  ?  Where  shall  we  find  a  man  so  unnatural 
as  not  to  enjoy  doubl}^  bis  own  free  patrimony,  in  thinking 
that  upon  this  soil  of  France,  of  which  the  monks  were  the 
first  cultivators,  all  his  fellows  can,  and  ought,  to  reach  the 
same  comfort,  thanks  to  the  results  of  their  own  free  labor? 
Still  further,  who  does  not  foresee,  with  a  happy  certainty, 
the  increase  of  that  general  comfort,  if  no  new  storms  or 
economic  errors  come  to  interrupt  the  regular  and  natural 
progress  of  things?  But  which  of  these  aspects  of  modern 
progress  was  incompatible  with  a  respect  to  the  right  of  prop- 
erty among  the  monks? 

The  monks  have  everywhere  been  the  founders  and  pre- 
cursors of  the  progress  and  well-being  of  the  agricultural 
classes,  by  the  relative  superiority  of  their  culture,  and  at 
the  same  time  by  the  facility,  and  especially  the  permanence, 
of  the  conditions  which  they  offered  to  the  workers  of  the 
soil.  Enlightened  and  competent  witnesses  are  unanimous  in 
establishing  the  universally  beneficent  influence  of  monastic 
property  upon  the  populations  which  depended  on  them. 
The  moral  decay  and  spiritual  irregularity  of  these  com- 
munities have  never  derogated  from  the  distinctive  character 
of  their  existence,  not  even  in  places  where  a  melancholy  at- 
tachment to  obsolete  usages  made  them  still  maintain  the  rem- 
nants  of  serfage,  which,  however,  were  much  less  odious  in 
reality  than  in  principle.  Even  under  this  pretended  servi- 
tude, with  which  the  eighteenth  century,  led  by  Voltaire,  so 
much  reproached  the  successors  of  tlie  ancient  monks  of 
Jura,^^    the   population    subject  to   mortmain   constantly   in- 

'®  The  farm  called  Casina  Cantaluca  di  Ozero,  near  the  road  from  Ab- 
biate  Grasso  to  Pa  via. 

'*  See  the  definition  which  is  given  of  it  in  the  Hevioircs  presentes  au  Ro\ 


INTRODUCTION.  107 

ci'eased,  in  spite  of  the  sterility  of  the  counfry,  an*]  the 
power,  gaurantecd  to  all,  of  seeking  other  masters.^''  "  Ex- 
perience teaches  us,"  says  an  old  historian,  "  that  in  the  Coun- 
try of  Burgundy,  the  peasants  of  the  places  under  mortmain 
are  much  more  comfortable  than  those  who  inliabit  the  free 
lands,  and  that  the  more  their  families  increase,  the  richer 
they  grow." 21  "Generally,"  says  an  erudite  Protestant  of 
our  own  days,  "  there  was  more  ease  and  prosperity  among 
them,  and  their  families  multiplied  with  fewer  obstacles,  than 
in  the  other  class  of  cultivators."  22  The  same  phenomenon 
has  been  remarked  everywhere  ;  in  England,  immediately 
after  the  suppression  of  monasteries  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury" ,^3  {^g  jjj  Belgium,  where  during  the  eighteenth  century, 
the  Prdmontres  created  the  agricultural  prosperity  of  La 
Carapine,  by  sending  from  the  bosom  of  their  abbeys,  into  all 
its  parishes.  cuy6s  who  were,  as  says  a  historian  of  1790,  like 
so  many  professors  of  agriculture.^*  In  Lombardy  it  was  the 
monks,  and  principally  the  sons  of  St.  Bernard,  who  taught 
the  peasants  the  art  of  irrigation,  and  made  that  country  the 

centre  le  Chapitre  de  Saint  Claude,  pp.  7,  21,  32,  143.  These  pretended 
serfs  were  only  the  descendants  of  ancient  colonists,  who  had  obtained  only 
a  partial  enjoyment  of  the  funds  granted  to  them  by  the  monks.  They  were 
subject  only  to  such  restrictions  as  trustees  and  life-renters  underwent  every- 
where. 

*"  Edodard  Clerc,  Essai  sur  V Histoire  de  la  Franche-Comte  (rewarded 
by  the  Institute),  18-t2,  t.  i.  p.  307. 

*'  DcTNOD,  Traite  de  la  Main  morte,  p.  15. 

'^  DuvERNOY  (of  Montbeliard),  quoted  by  Charriere,  Recherches  sur  Ro- 
mainmouiier,  p.  296.  Lausanne,  1855.  —  This  same  author  says  also: 
"  Certainly  the  main-morte  is  not  so  hideous  as  some  would-be  philosophers 
of  the  eigiiteenth  century  have  wished  to  depict  it:  I  have  said  repeatedly 
that  the  lot  of  this  class  has  been  envied  by  many  men  of  their  time  simply 
liable  to  the  land  tax  and  statute  labor.  Personally,  they  were  not  less  un- 
der the  shield  of  those  customs  having  the  force  of  laws  which  governed 
inferiors,  and  their  burdens  and  taxes  were  generally  more  supportable."  He 
quotes  elsewhere  the  celebrated  passage  from  the  letters  of  Peter  the  Vener- 
able, where  this  doctor  proves  the  difference  between  the  lot  of  serfs  subject 
to  the  monks,  and  tliose  of  the  laity.  Neither  M.  Duvernoy  nor  myself  have 
the  least  intention  of  justifying  the  maintenance  of  any  fragment  whatever 
of  serfage  in  the  eighteenth  century.  But,  to  overthrow  that,  was  it  there- 
fore necessary  to  dispossess  and  proscribe  those  who  had  created  French 
agriculture  ? 

^^  Collier,  t.  ii.  p.  108,  ap.  Dublin  Review,  t.  xvi.  p.  259. 

^*  Verhoeven,  Memoire  sur  la  Constitution  de  la  Nation,  Belgium, 
Liege,  1790,  p.  79.  This  author  adds  that,  after  the  suppressions  of  Joseph 
II.,  he  has  seen  various  monasteries,  such  as  Auwerghem,  Groenendael, 
Rouge- CloUre,  and  Sept- Fontaines,  become  again  literally  dens  of  thievea 
as  they  had  been  before  their  foundation,  as  described  in  the  diplomas  of 
their  benefactors.  He  says  also  that  the  suppression  of  the  little  priory  of 
Cors'^endonck,  situated  in  the  poorest  soil  of  Campine,  has  caused  the  pool 
peasants  of  the  neighborhood  to  desert  it,  p.  102. 


108  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

most  fertile  and  rich  in  Europe.^^  In  Spain  and  Portugal,  all 
candid  travellers,  English  or  French,  Protestants  or  free- 
thinkers, have  not  only  recognized  in  monastic  labor  tlie 
principal  origin  of  national  agriculture,  but  have  farther  prr)- 
claimed  the  constant  prosperity  of  conventual  lands,  the 
excellence  of  the  methods  of  culture  there  employed,  their 
superiority  in  comparison  witli  the  domains  of  tlie  crown  or 
nobility,  and,  above  all,  the  services  rendered  to  the  peasants 
b}'  these  industrious,  persevering,  and  always  resident  pro- 
prietors, who  consecrated  the  entire  amount  of  their  revenues 
to  the  working  or  to  the  improvement  of  their  patrimony, 
and  held  the  place  of  generous  capitalists  and  indulgent  lend- 
ers to  the  laborers  of  the  country,  in  districts  whore  capital 
was  wanting,  as  it  still  is  wanting  in  France,  for  agricultural 
enterprises.'-^" 

The  low  rate  of  the  rents,  which  called  and  retained  around 
each  monastery  agriculturists  easy  and  prosperous,  has  been 
everywhere  remarked  upon  monastic  lands.  Is  it  certain 
that  these  low  rents  have  been  maintained  by  their  succes- 
sors? Let  us  go  further,  and  ask  if  it  is*  certain,  that  the 
universal  and  permanent  advantage  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
country  has  been  consulted,  in  substituting  everywhere  for 
this  rural  ownership  of  the  religious  orders  —  always  stable 
and  never  exacting  (for  there  is  not  an  example  to  the  con- 
trary), which  resisted  all  attacks,  and  spread  everywhere 
around  it  an  increasing  and  enduring  prosperity  —  the  rapa- 
city of  individualism,  the  variations  of  industry,  the  mercan- 
tile and  egotistic  spirit  of  modern  proprietorship,  deprived 
even  by  the  law  which  has  consituted  it  of  all  foundation  in 
the  past,  and  every  engagement  towards  the  future  ?  Again, 
it  can  enter  into  no  one's  intentions  to  rouse  reaction  against 
the  fundamental  institutions  of  modern  society,  to  preach  the 
universal  re-establishment  of  great  landed  properties,  or  even 
of  cultivation  on  a  grand  scale,  and  to  generalize  thus  an  or- 
der of  things  which,  by  its  very  nature,  could  and  ought  to  be 
only  exceptional.  But  must  we  absolutely  refuse  every  asy- 
lum to  the  spirit  of  conservation,  to  the  science  of  duration, 

**  Lavezaeri,  EJeinenii  d'AgricoUura,  Milano,  1784;  Fumagalli,  Anti 
chita  Lomhardo- Milanesi,  Milano,   1701,  t.  ii.  dist.  13. 

-•*  See  Cavanillas,  Observactones  sobre  la  Ilisioria  Natural  del  Regno 
de  Valencia,  Madrid  1795,  quoted  by  Gregory  in  his  Essay  on  the  State  of 
Agriculture  in  Europe;  Bourgoing,  Tableau  de  V Espaqne,  t.  iii. ;  but 
above  all,  the  work  entitled  Portugal  and  Galicia,  by  the  Earl  of  Caernar- 
von, an  English  peer,  one  of  the  men  who  have  best  seen  and  studied  tlie 
Peninsula  during  the  stormy  years  from  1820  to  1828. 


INTRODUCTION.  109 

and  proscribe  without  exception  all  those  oases  of  peace  and 
disinterestedness?  Must  we  render  compulsory  everywhere 
that  circulation  and  division  of  the  soil,  whiclj,  pushed  to  ex- 
tremity, destroys  even  the  domestic  heart  of  one  generation 
before  it  has  had  time  to  renew  itself,  and  which,  in  a  wider 
sense,  teaches  man  only  too  easily  how  human  society  re- 
duces itself  into  dust,  and  how  property  may  have  no  aim  or 
rule  save  the  art  of  drawing  out  of  it,  without  measure  or  re- 
luxation,  all  that  it  will  produce  ? 

But  let  us  suppose  all  these  questions  resolved  against  us : 
still  we  may  at  least  inquire  whether  the  mind  most  entirely 
satisfied  by  this  manifest  progress  in  material  things,  does 
not  pause,  doubtful  and  uncertain,  when  seeking  an  analogous 
progress  in  the  morality  and  even  intelligence  of  the  popula- 
tion which  has  succeeded  that  which  surrounded  the  cloisters. 
There  are,  thank  Heaven,  exceptions  everywhere  :  but  if  we 
inquire  into  the  state  of  souls  —  if  we  sounded  the  con- 
(Sciences  or  scrutinized  the  intelligence  of  the  people  who 
have  replaced  the  monks,  what  should  we  too  often  find 
there  ?  Would  it  not  be  an  ignorance  of  God,  of  the  soul,  of 
a  better  life  and  of  eternity,  too  general  and  voluntary?  an 
absorbing  preoccupation  in  the  lowest  functions  of  human 
vitality?  a  wild  application  of  the  faculties  of  the  soul  to 
lucre?  the  exclusive  worship  of  material  instincts  and  prof- 
its? Upon  this  point,  1  fear,  the  testimony  of  bishops  and 
rural  priests  would  be  as  unanimous  as  indisputable.  No,  the 
rural  classes  have  not  gained  in  morality  as  they  have  in- 
creased in  laborious  comfort  and  legitimate  independence. 
Alas  !  the  dishonored  ruins  of  the  monuments  which  we  re- 
gret are  often  but  too  faithful  an  image  of  ruined  consciences 
and  ruined  souls. 

We  can  then  affirm,  without  fear,  that  modern  society  has 
gained  nothing,  either  morally  or  materially,  by  the  savage, 
radical,  and  universal  destruction  of  monastic  institutions. 
Has  intellectual  culture  profited  more  ?  Let  us  inquire  where 
the  taste  for  literature  and  study,  the  pursuit  of  the  beauti- 
lul  and  true,  the  pure  and  upright  knowledge,  the  true  light 
of  the  mind,  exists  now  in  those  places  heretofore  occupied  by 
the  monks,  where  the}^  had  been  first  to  carry  the  torch  of 
study  and  knowledge  to  the  bosom  of  the  plains,  to  the  depths 
of  the  woods,  to  the  summits  of  the  mountains,  and  even  into 
so  many  towns  which  owe  to  them  all  they  have  ever  known 
of  literary  or  scientific  life.  What  remains  of  so  many 
palaces  raised  in  silence  and  solitude  for  the  products  of  art, 

VOL.  I.  10 


no  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WESx. 

for  the  progress  and  pleasure  of  the  mind,  for  disinterested 
labor  ?  Masses  of  broken  wail  inhabited  by  owls  and  rats ; 
shapeless  remains ;  heaps  of  stones  and  pools  of  water. 
Everywhere  desolation,  filth,  and  disorder.  No  more  studious 
retreats,  no  more  vast  galleries  full  of  rich  collections,  no 
more  pictures,  no  more  painted  windows,  no  more  organs,  no 
more  chants,  no  more  libraries  above  all  !  no  more  of  books 
than  of  alms  and  prayer  I 

And  what  have  the  poor  gained  by  it  ?  The  reply  is  too 
easy  and  too  painful.  That  they  have  reaped  no  advantage 
becomes  specially  apparent  in  those  sites  where  we  would 
lain  invite  the  destroyers  and  detractors  of  the  monastic  or- 
ders to  discuss  with  them  the  value  of  their  work.  In  places 
where  once  was  found  a  refuge,  an  hospice,  an  hospital,  a 
fireside  always  open  and  always  bright  for  all  miseries  and 
all  weaknesses  ;  where,  at  the  end  of  a  hard  day's  journey  or 
work,  the  evening  bell  announced  to  the  poor  and  fatigued 
traveller  a  benevolent  and  assured  ^''  reception,  what  do  we 
find  to-day?  One  of  three  things:  most  frequently  a  ruin, 
without  either  shelter  or  consolation  for  any  one  ;  sometimes 
a  private  dwelling  closely  shut  up,  where  there  is  nothing 
either  to  receive  or  to  demand  ;  at  the  best,  an  inn,  where  it 
is  necessarj'  to  pay  for  everything. 

But,  above  all,  what  has  been  gained  by  the  State,  by  the 
public  power,  whose  irresistible  name  and  arm  have  every- 
where consummated  the  outrage  conceived  and  calculated 
by  private  hate  and  avarice.  Admitting,  for  a  moment,  the 
right  of  the  State  to  seize  upon  private  property,  the  most 
sacred  and  inviolable  property;  supposing  it,  by  a  possible 
agreement  with  the  Church,  legitimate  master  of  these  im- 
mense spoils  ;  and  placing  ourselves  at  a  point  of  view  merely 
political  and  material,  how  shall  we  justify  the  use  it  has 
made  of  them?  How  shall  we  explain  those  sales,  made  bit 
by  bit,  for  ridiculous  prices  —  that  instantaneous  and  barren 
crumbling  down  of  so  much  solid,  durable,  and  fertile  capi- 
tal —  otherwise  than  by  the  imaginary  necessity  and  wicked 
determination  to  identify  the  cause  of  revolution  with  new 
interests  and  individual  covetousness  ?     I  appeal  to  all  econ- 

"  In  Germany,  especially,  where  travelling  has  always  been  more  than 
elsewhere  a  national  habit  with  the  lower  classes,  monasteries  atfordcd  them 
gratuitous  inns.  We  saw  even  lately,  in  the  profaned  enclosure  of  Wesso- 
brunn,  in  Bavaria,  dormitories  divided  into  small  rooms,  and  reserved,  some 
for  poor  students,  others  for  poor  workmen  who  came  there  to  sleep.  Sre 
upon  that  transformation  an  excellent  work  in  the  Feuilles  PoliUques  et  His- 
toriquei  of  Goekkes  and  Thillips,  vol.  xxiii.  p.  821. 


INTRODUCTION.  Ill 

oraists  worthy  of  tlie  name,  to  all  who  have  managed  public 
affairs  or  i^criously  studied  great  social  questions:  was  this 
what  should  have  been  done?  Sliould  not  an  attempt  have 
been  made  to  put  aside  these  enormous  common  funds  for 
public  necessities  and  general  interests?  The  orphans,  the 
deserted  luuiidlings,  the  poor  lunatics,  the  deaf  and  dumb, 
the  blind,  the  old  sailors,  the  old  field-laborers,  the  old  sol- 
diers of  labor  and  industry,  so  many  different  miseries  which 
modern  civilization  creates  or  discovers  every  day,  and 
which  she  owes  it  to  herself  to  take  in  charge,  because  she 
has  everywhere  enervated  the  freedom  and  the  initiative  of 
private  charity,  —  had  not  they  acquired  a  claim  upon  these 
treasures  amassed  by  the  charity  of  the  past? 

But  no  !  Hatred  of  the  past,  blind  hatred  of  all  that  en- 
dures, of  all  that  comes  from  afar,  of  all  that  has  a  sacred 
origin,  has  swept  away  all  the  calculations  of  foresight,  and 
the  well-understood  interests  of  the  State,  as  well  as  those 
of  the  laborious  and  indigent  masses.  They  ha,ve  preferred 
to  slay  at  a  blow  the  goose  of  the  golden  eggs  !  They  have 
destroyed  the  capital  of  ages,  the  inviolable  trust  of  Christian 
nations,  of  charitable  families,  of  knowledge,  labor,  and  virtue. 
By  the  same  blow  has  the  future  been  sacriticed  and  the  past 
calumniated.  And  they  hold  themselves  justified  by  decla- 
mations upon  3Iort-main,  that  is  to  say,  upon  that  immortal 
hand  which  has  given  life  to  the  most  durable  and  fertile  cre- 
ations of  Christian  genius. 

Lut  us  admit  even  that  the  crime  or  blindness  of  the  de- 
stroyers of  the  sixteenth  or  eighteenth  century  might  find  an 
excuse  or  explanation  ;.  there  is  none  for  those  who,  after  the 
cruel  experiences  which  contemporary  Europe  has  passed 
through,  and  in  presence  of  the  menaces  of  the  future,  perse- 
vere in  the  same  course. 

By  what  madness  could  we  explain  the  renewal  of  perse- 
cution and  prohibition  against  the  new  germs,  born  again, 
but  still  so  few  and  feeble,  of  cloistral  life  ?  against  the  only 
men  who,  in  our  society,  would  be  content  with  their  lot; 
who  would  use  their  liberty  only  to  abdicate  all  ambition  and 
lucre,  and  seek,  as  the  height  of  their  desires,  abstinence, 
mortification,  and  voluntary  poverty,  while  all  around  them 
resounds  with  the  glorification  of  wealth  and  of  the  fiesh  ? 

Yet  how  much  have  we  seen,  for  some  years  past,  in  France 
and  everywhere  around  us,  even  in  Spanish  America,  of  these 
mad  persecutors,  less  intelligent  and  more  perverse  even 
than  their    predecessors,  who    aggravate   unceasingly  their 


112  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    ^YEST. 

ignorant  hatred  and  obsolete  calumnies  to  obtain  new  pro. 
scriptions  !  How  many  politicians,  legislators,  and  magis- 
trates could  we  name,  who  have  obstinately  maintained  a 
cruel  interdiction,  aided  by  annoyances  derived  at  the  same 
time  from  the  Roman  tax-gatherers  and  the  Spanish  Inquisi- 
tion, against  all  the  attempts  of  Christian  devotedness  to  re- 
establish the  cloistral  Hfe  !  Incapable  themselves  of  the  least 
sacriHce  for  God,  they  madly  pursue  those  who  demonstrate, 
by  their  example,  that  sucii  sacrifices  are  still  possible  ;  they 
would  fain  banish  for  ever  into  the  past,  as  a  dream  and  ab 
erration,  such  fidelity  to  evangelical  counsels. 

It  is  the  esprit  de  corps,  the  vitality  of  association,  that 
force,  increased  tenfold  by  a  life  in  common,  which  the 
Church  has  always  produced,  and  in  which  she  ab.vays  re 
news  herself,  that  they  specially  pursue  in  her.  It  is  for 
this,  above  all,  that  they  set  themselves  to  confine  and  thwart, 
her.  They  are  willing  to  lot  her  live,  but  to  live  mutilated. 
They  treat  her  like  a  prisoner  of  war,  like  a  captive  garri- 
son, whom  they  divest  of  their  arms  and  banners,  to  make 
them  pass  under  the  caudine  forks. 

Hypocritical  advocates  of  a  liberty  which  they  have  never 
understood,  they  proscribe  the  supreme  act  of  liberty.  "  What 
folly  and  cruelty!"  said  St.  Peter  Damien  eight  hundred 
years  ago  :  "  a  man  has  the  power  of  disposing  freely  of  his 
goods,  but  he  shall  not  have  that  of  offering  himself  to  God  ! 
He  h.as  a  right  to  give  up  all  his  fortune  to  other  men,  and 
they  refuse  him  the  liberty  of  giving  up  his  soul  to  God, 
from  whom  it  came  !  ""^ 

I  stood  in  Grenada  one  day,  in  the  Albaycin,at  the  gate  of 
the  convent  of  Santa  Isabel  la  Real,  founded  by  Isabella  the 
Catholic,  in  memory  of  her  conquests,  still  occupied  by  its  no- 
ble inhabitants,  but  condemned  to  self-extinction,  the  dictator- 
ship of  Espartero  having  interdicted  them,  as  well  as  all  the 
other  convents  in  Spain,  from  receiving  novices.  A  woman 
approached  and  explained  to  me  that  savage  interdict:  then, 
extending  her  hand    towards  the  condemned   convent,  and 

^*  "  Quas  est  ilia  dementia,  quaa  vesania,  quae  crudelitas !  Habet  homo 
disponendarum  rerum  suarum  liberam  facultatem,  ut  semetipsura  Deo  offerat 
potestatem  non  habet!  Valet  hominibus  tradere  substantiam  suam,  non 
habet  libertatem  Deo  reddere  animam  suam  !  "  —  S.  Petr.  Damian.,  Opusc. 
15.  Tills  saint  certainly  did  not  foresee  that  they  would  come  one  day  to 
proscribe,  in  Catholic  countries,  the  practice  of  monastic  life.  He  addressed 
these  words  to  bishops,  who  wished  only  to  exempt  from  the  vow  ot  embra- 
cing religious  life  those  who  might  have  done  ifbelieving  themselves  mortally 
ill,  and  who  should  afterwards  be  restored  to  health. 


INTRODUCTION.  113 

flasliiiig  on  it  one  of  those  burning  glances  which  cannot  be 
forgotten,  she  exclaimed,  with  the  accent  of  a  Roman  and  the 
ardor  of  a  Spaniard,  these  two  words,  Suma  Urania  1  She 
was  right:  tyranny  has  invented  nothing  more  oppressive 
than  this  stifling  of  devotion,  chastity,  and  charity  in  the  hu- 
man soul.  Let  us  believe,  for  the  honor  of  the  human  species, 
that  posterity  will  repeat  that  sentence,  and  define  by  the 
two  words  of  the  indignant  Spanish  woman  the  policy  and 
justice  of  these  comedians  of  liberty,  when  they  shall  stand 
finally  unmasked  before  its  eyes. 

Besides,  the  Son  of  God  has  already  pronounced  their  sen- 
tence :  "  Woe  unto  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites  ! 
for  ye  shut  up  the  kingdom  of  heaven  against  men  :  for  ye 
neither  go  in  yourselves,  neither  suffer  ye  them  that  are  en- 
tering, to  go  in."  2^ 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  TRUE  AND  FALSE  MIDDLE  AGES. 

Primam  esse  historiae  legem,  ne  quid  falsi  dicere  audeat;  deinde  ne  quid  reri  non 
audeat.  —  Ciceko,  De  Orat.,  iii.  15. 

But  let  us  leave,  for  a  time,  these  memorials  of  ruin  and 
oppression.  It  is  neither  the  decay  nor  the  fall ;  it  is  the 
youth  and  flourishing  maturity  of  the  monastic  order  that  we 
have  to  relate.  This  narrative  carries  us  into,  and  will  de- 
tain us  long  in,  the  bosom  of  that  grand  era  of  the  middle 
ages,  which  is  the  perpetual  object  of  opinions  so  impassioned 
and  diverse.  In  the  time  of  its  greatest  splendor  the  mo- 
nastic order  was  only  one  of  the  branches  of  that  great  Chris- 
tian society,  governed  by  the  Church  and  the  feudal  system, 
which  has  reigned  successively  in  all  the  countries  of  the 
West,  from  Gregory  the  Great  down  to  Joan  of  Arc. 

We  are  necessarily  led  to  study  and  appreciate  this  vast 
conjunction  of  Christian  institutions,  doctrines,  and  manners, 
when  we  approach  the  history  of  the  religious  orders  ;  and  we 
feel  the  necessity  of  rendering  to  it  also  complete  and  defini- 
tive justice.  But  here,  as  elsewhere,  profound  admiration,  de- 
liberate and  avowed,  does  not  exclude  the  most  complete  and 

'*  Matth.  xxiii.  13. 
10* 


114  •    THE    MONKS   OF    THE    WEST. 

severe  impartiality.  God  forbid  that  we  should  imitate  out 
adversaries,  those  men  who  hate  and  denounce  the  prepon- 
derance of  Catholic  faith  and  truth  in  the  middle  ages  !  God 
preserve  us  from  forgetting  or  concealing  the  sombre  and 
vicious  side  of  that  period,  from  proclaiming  only  its  splen- 
dors and  virtues,  and  from  turning  thus  against  its  detractors 
the  disloyal  and  lying  method  which  they  have  used  so  long, 
of  keeping  silent  upon  all  its  grand  and  noble  features,  and 
pointing  out  to  the  execration  of  posterity  only  its  abuses 
and  disorders.  To  be  impartial  it  is  necessary  to  be  com- 
plete. To  show  only  the  vices  of  a  human  crealure,  or  a 
historic  period,  is  to  betray  truth ;  but  it  is  equally  so  to 
show  nothing  but  the  virtues. 

Tlie  most  important  point  is,  to  distinguish  carefully  be- 
tween the  middle  ages  and  the  epoch  which  followed,  and 
which  is  commonly  called  the  ancien  regime;  and  to  protest 
against  the  confusion  which  ignorance  on  one  side,  and  on  the 
other  the  policy  of  absolutism,  has  introduced  between  two 
phases  of  history  totally  difi'erent,  and  even  hostile  to  each 
other.  To  believe,  for  example  that  the  fourteen  centuries 
of  our  history  which  preceded  the  Frencli  Revolution,  have 
developed  only  the  same  class  of  institutions  and  ideas,  is  to 
go  in  the  face  of  truth  and  fact.  The  ancien  regime,  by  the 
triumph  of  absolute  monarchy  in  all  the  kingdoms  of  the 
European  continent,  had  slain  the  middle  ages :  but  instead 
of  rejecting  and  trampling  under  foot  the  robes  of  its  victim, 
it  adorned  itself  with  them,  and  was  still  thus  arrayed  Avhen 
it  came,  in  its  turn,  to  be  overthrown.  Time  and  space  fail 
us  to  insist  upon  this  truth,  which  becomes  more  and  more 
evident,  in  proportion  as  the  paths  of  history  are  cleared 
from  all  those  errors  with  which  superficial  writers  have  en- 
cumbered them.  But  it  is  important  to  free  the  true  middle 
ages,  in  their  Catholic  splendor,  from  all  afiinity  with  the 
theory  and  practice  of  that  renewed  old  pagan  despotism 
which  still  here  and  there  contends  with  modern  libert}^: 
and  this  distinction  should  be  specially  recalled  in  presence 
of  all  those  historic  phantasmagoria  which,  after  having  so 
long  assimilated  the  kings  of  the  middle  ages  to  modern 
monarchs,  exhibiting  Clovis  and  Dagobert  to  us  as  princes 
of  the  fashion  of  Louis  XIV.  and  Louis  XV.,  have  all  at  once 
turned  round,  and  attempt  to  make  us  regard  Louis  XIV. 
and  Philip  V.  as  the  natural  and  legitimate  representatives 
of  St.  Louis  and  St.  Ferdinand.  An  attentive  study  of  facta 
and  institutions  will  convince   every  sincere  observer  that 


INTRODUCTION.  115 

(liero  is  less  difference  between  the  order  of  tilings  destroyed 
in  1789  and  modern  society,  than  between  the  Christianity 
of  the  midtlle  ages  and  the  ancien  regime. 

That  ancien  regime  corrupted,  enslaved,  and  often  de- 
spoiled all  that  it  had  not  killed,  and  the  religions  orders 
suffered  that  fate  as  much  as,  or  more  than,  any  other  insti- 
tution of  Christianity. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  go  far  back  to  find  a  time  in  which 
all  the  great  social  forces,  even  those  whose  roots  penetrate 
furthest  into  the  Catholic  middle  ages,  and  which  the  modern 
mind  is  accustomed  to  confound  with  that  period,  were  unan- 
imous in  disavowing  any  sympathy  or  affinity  with  the  pre- 
vious age,  and  in  which  the  intelligence  of  that  age,  with- 
drawing from  them,  abandoned  them,  discrowned  and 
disarmed,  to  the  perils  of  the  future.  It  was  then  that  the 
throne,  misled  by  servile  law3^ers  and  historians,  renounced 
the  Christian  Iminility  of  the  kings  of  the  middle  ages  ;  that 
the  nobility,  unfaithful  to  the  traditions  of  their  furthest 
back  and  most  illustrious  ancestors,  sought  their  gloiy  and 
life  only  in  the  royal  favor ;  that  the  clergy  themselves  blushed 
for  the  ages,  named  barbarous  by  their  own  writers,  in  which, 
however,  the  Church  had  been  so  strong  and  flourishing,  so 
free  and  so  respected,  so  well  obeyed  and  loved.  Yes,  igno- 
rance, or,  if  you  pi'efor  it,  historical  carelessness,  had  so  in- 
fected even  the  sanctuary,  that  the  clergy,  exclusively 
preoccupied  with  wrongs  and  disorders,  which  we  should  be 
careful  not  to  deny,  did  not  hesitate  to  sacrifice  the  highest 
glories  of  their  order  to  the  rancor  and  prejudices  of  the 
world.  It  must  be  said,  in  order  to  verify  all  that  we  have 
gained  :  in  everything  which  concerns  the  most  heroic  strug- 
gles of  the  Church  during  nearly  two  centuries,  we  had 
accepted  on  their  own  word  the  lies  of  our  tyrants,  and  had 
served  as  their  echo.  Multitudes  of  Christians,  of  priests, 
of  Catholic  doctors  were  to  be  found,  who,  ranging  them- 
selves with  enthusiasm  on  the  strongest  side,  had  taken  the 
part  of  evil  against  good,  and  transformed  lay  tyranny  into 
an  innocent  victim  of  the  Church.  It  is  scarcely  a  hundred 
years  since  French  bishops  expressed  in  their  charges  the 
wish  to  see  the  enterprises  of  Gregory  VII.  buried  in  eternal 
oblivion!^  Fleurv,  so  long  the  oracle  of  ecclesiastical  his- 
tory, put  his  vast  knowledge  and  incontestable  talents  at  the 
service  of  the  enemies  of  Rome,  and  dared  to  say,  in  begio 

'  Charges  of  the  Bishops  of  Verdun  and  Troy,  in  1728. 


116  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

ning  his  description  of  the  ages  which  intervened  between 
St.  Benedict  and  St.  Bernard,  that  the  great  times  of  the  Church 
are  past?  Whilst  Voltaire  decreed  the  untoward  tribute  of 
his  praises  to  such  decisions,^  no  one,  in  France,  at  least, 
ventured  openly  to  combat  them.  We  must  even  admit  that 
it  is  not  the  clergy  who  have  given  to  history  that  new  and 
salutary  impulse  which  has  animated  it  for  forty  years,  and 
served  the  cause  of  the  Church  so  well.  They  have  rather 
ouffered,  than  inspired,  the  vindication  of  the  middle  ages. 
That  work,  so  indispensable  to  the  honor  and  enfranchisement 
of  Catholicism,  has  been  begun  by  Protestants,*  by  indiflerent 
persons,  sometimes  even  by  declared  adversaries.  It  has 
been  specially  carried  out  by  laymen.^  Perhaps  it  is  by 
some  secret  and  beneficent  purpose  of  supreme  Truth  that 
the  profane,  and  men  who  are  strangers  to  the  true  faith, 
have  been  the  first  and  most  ardent  to  study  and  admire 
those  great  and  proibundly  Catholic  ages. 

But  perhaps,  also,  it  is  to  the  absence  and  silence  of  the 
clergy  in  the  beginning  of  this  unforeseen  and  brilliant 
return  to  historic  truth,  that  we  must  attribute  the  untoward 
character  which  has  diminished  its  value  in  the  eyes  of  many 
pious  Christians.  In  giving  up  to  the  poets,  artists,  and 
novelists  the  exclusive  right  of  using,  with  no  very  exalted 
purpose,  the  treasures  of  an  age  m  wliich  the  Church  gov- 
erned and  inspired  everything.  Catholics  have  permitted  the 
study  of  the  middle  ages  to  degenerate  into  a  kind  of  fashion, 

*  Discourses  on  the  state  of  the  Church  from  600  to  1100. 

'  He  has  said  of  Fleury :  "  His  history  of  tlie  Church  is  the  best  that  has 
ever  been  written,  and  the  preliminary  discourses  are  very  much  superior  to 
liistory."  It  is  true  Fleury  has  not  yet  been  surpassed  as  a  historian  of  the 
Cliurch,  but  lie  understood  absolutely  nothing  of  tlio  social  and  moral  consti- 
tution of  the  Christian  people  of  the  middle  ages.  His  inHiience  has  not- 
withstanding outwciglied  every  other  in  France  as  out  of  it;  and  I  would 
only  quote  one  curious  example  of  it.  that  of  an  English  Catliolic  priest, 
Dr.  Berington,  author  of  a  Literary  History  of  the  Middle  Ages,  reprinted 
in  1846,  who  treats  the  Crusades  as  a  contagious  extravagance,  and  declares 
that  the  only  result  of  them  has  been  the  importation  to  tlie  West  of  Orien- 
tal fables,  from  which  the  imagination  of  bard  and  troubadour  had  been  able 
to  draw  new  aliment. 

*  In  France,  M.  Guizot;  in  Germany,  Jean  de  Mullcr,  Voigt,  Leo,  Hur- 
ler, the  two  Menzcls. 

*  The  best  book  to  make  the  middle  age  known  and  loved,  is  the  work  of 
a  layman,  and  of  a  layman  gone  over  from  Anglicism  to  the  Church.  It  is 
the  collection  already  quoted,  and  entitled  Mores  Catholici,  or  the  Centuries 
of  Faith,  by  Kenelm  Digby,  London,  1831  to  1843,  10  volumes.  It  is  right 
to  acknowledge  that  the  defective  aspect  of  the  middle  ages  (what  the  Ger- 
mans so  justly  call  die  Schattenzeite)  has  not  been  sufficiently  brought  to 
light  by  Mr.  Digby.  Eead  on  this  subject  the  sage  reflections  of  the  excel- 
lent American  writer,  Brownson,  in  his  Quarterly  Review,  Boston,  July,  1 34a 


INTRODUCTION.  117 

exap;ge rated  and  ephemeral,  a  frivolous  and  puerile  rage  for 
its  furniture,  statues,  and  stained  glass,  parodying  the  ex- 
terior, the  costume,  and  the  language  of  a  time,  whose  fun 
damental  characteristics  these  explorers  affect  to  ignore,  and 
whose  faith,  especially,  they  will  neither  profess  nor  practise. 
How  few  among  us  have  approached  the  middle  ages  with 
that  tender  and  profound  respect  which  should  conduct  us  to 
the  sepulchre  of  our  ancestors,  to  the  monuments  of  their 
glory,  to  the  cradle  of  our  spiritual  and  moral  life !  Per- 
chance it  might  be  better  to  let  that  past  sleep,  under  the 
dust  and  disdain  with  which  modern  paganism  has  covered 
it,  than  to  resuscitate  it  for  the  fitting  out  of  a  museum. 

However  this  may  be,  a  great  progress  is  manifest,  and 
continues  every  day.  The  study  of  the  middle  ages  has 
become  more  and  more  general,  serious  and  popular.  Its 
liistorical  vindication  progresses,  and  works  itself  out.  Those 
'vho,  first  among  the  Catholics,  put  their  hands  to  this  task 
five-and-twenty  years  ago,  having  due  reason  for  congratu- 
lation. At  that  time  much  courage  was  necessary  to  brave 
prejudices  which  were  universal,  and  to  all  appearance  in- 
vincible, and  bold  perseverance  to  overcome  the  scorn  of 
ignorance  and  routine,  and  some  perspicacity  to  divine  that 
the  wind  was  about  to  change,  and  that  its  breath  would  re- 
kindle the  true  light.  The  hands  of  enemies  have  tliemselves 
largely  contributed  to  that  unhoped-for  victory.  Illustrious 
adversaries  of  Catholicism  have  popularized  periods,  races, 
and  personages  which  last  century  had  condemned  to  eternal 
scorn  and  oblivion.  Penetrating  into  the  catacombs  of  his- 
tory, they  have  dug  and  cleared  out  many  unknown  or  lost 
ways,  and  have  brought  back  inestimable  materials  for  the 
work  of  reparation.  Perhaps  the}^  expected  to  have  sealed 
the  tomb  of  their  victim  for  the  last  time  under  these  stones, 
which  serve  every  day  to  reconstruct  the  sanctuary  of  his- 
toric truth. 

Thanks  to  them,  above  all,  we  know  now  what  to  believe 
concerning  the  barbarity  of  the  middle  ages,  feudal  anarchy, 
and  most  of  the  invectives  cast  upon  the  Christian  society 
by  accusers  who  have  designedly  forgotten  or  misconceived 
her  first  motives.  With  Catholics,  especially,  the  revolution 
is  complete ;  among  them  we  scarcely  find  sufficient  opposi- 
tion to  verify  the  triumph.  They  have  taken  up  again  the 
sentiment  of  their  historical  honor  and  patrimony.  But  how 
many  efforts  and  struggles  are  still  necessary  against  the 
ocean  of  vulgar  prejudices,  against  the  decision  of  hate  and 


I  18  THE   MONKS    OF   THE   WEST. 

voluntary  ignorance  !  Amongst  the  clergy  as  amongst  by- 
men,  many  industrious  writers  continue  a  task  which  we 
must  beware  of  believing  achieved.  The  legitimate  and  im- 
prescriptible insurrection  of  truth  against  error  is  not  the 
woik  of  a  day,  and  a  victory  so  desirable  cannot  be  achieved 
so  quickly  or  so  perfectly.  We  require  to  have  our  arsenal 
filled  every  day  with  the  serious  arguments  and  irrefutable 
demonstrations  of  honest  knowledge,  and  we  help  to  recon- 
quer our  Ibrgutten  glories  when  we  increase  the  riches  of 
historical  truth. 

Meanwhile,  though  there  is  still  much  remaining  to  be 
done  for  the  consolidation  of  that  conquest  and  arrangement 
of  its  riches,  we  already  see  the  result  compromised  by  that 
disastrous  fickleness  which  belongs  to  the  French  character 
and  which  extends  even  into  the  sphere  of  religion  !  Men 
have  passed  from  one  excess  to  another,  from  one  pole  ot 
error  to  the  opposite  pole,  from  a  contempt  founded  upon 
ignorance,  to  a  blind,  exclusive,  and  no  less  ignorant  admi- 
ration. They  have  made  an  imaginary  moyen  age,  in  which 
tliey  have  placed  the  ideal  of  those  daring  theories  and  re- 
trograde passions,  which  have  been  brought  to  light  by  the 
downfalls  and  recantations  of  our  last  times.  The  school  of 
literature  which  has  launched  a  decree  of  proscription  against 
the  great  works  of  classic  antiquity,  comes  to  swell  the  ranks 
of  that  school  of  politics  which  has  returned  with  a  despe- 
rate confidence  towards  force  as  the  best  ally  of  faith,  which 
has  placed  religion  and  society  under  that  humiliating  guar- 
dianship, and  which  takes  a  perverse  pleasure  in  crushing 
human  conscience  and  human  dignity  under  strange  and  in- 
supportable pretensions.  Disdaining  the  reality  of  facts,  and 
of  all  the  authentic  monuments  of  the  past,  both  take  delight 
in  seeking  weapons  against  the  rights  of  reason  and  of  free- 
dom, in  recollections  of  tliose  middle  ages  which  their  own 
imagination  has  falsified;  and  both  have  slandered  the  Chris- 
tendom of  our  ancestors,  by  representing  it  as  the  model  of 
that  intellectual  and  social  condition  of  wliich  they  dream, 
and  which  they  preach  to  the  modern  world. 

And  immediately,  by  a  natural  reaction,  the  old  prejudices 
•md  declamations  against  the  ages  of  fait  1 1  have  regained  life 
and  favor.  The  ill-extinguished  and  scarcely  disguised  ani- 
mosity of  those  who  yielded  to  the  laws  of  recent  impartiality 
rather  from  regard  to  good  taste  tha-n  from  conviction,  blazes 
up  anew.  To  the  indignation  excited  in  many  minds  by  the 
reawakening  of  those  helots  who  were   supposed  to   be   re 


INTRODUCTION.  110 

signed  and  habituated  to  the  abnegation  of  their  ancient 
glory  and  liberty,  is  added  tlie  natural  uneasiness  of  all  vvl)o 
rely  upon  the  legitimate  conquests  and  progress  of  modern 
int'eUigenco.  By  combining  the  vindication  of  the  middle 
ages  with  the  apotheosis  of  contemporary  servitude,  a  hor- 
ror of  the  Catholic  past  has  been  reanimated,  strengthened, 
and,  in  appearance,  justified.  The  cause  which  seemed  to 
be  gained  is  once  more  put  in  question,  and  even  in  risk  of 
being  lost  again.  Passion  and  hatred  have  again  found  a 
pretext  and  refuge  —  they  constitute  themselves  the  auxil- 
iaries of  betrayed  liberty,  menaced  conscience,  and  reason 
outraged  and  justly  alarmed.^ 

The  laborious  and  conscientious  worker  in  this  great  and 
good  cause  has  thus  too  often  good  reason  to  pause,  sad  and 
discouraged,  when  he  perceives  the  volcano  which  he  had 
supposed  extinguished  re-open,  to  throw  forth,  as  heretofore, 
calumny  and  outrage  against  the  truth  ;  but  sadder  still  when 
he  sees  that  truth  condemned,  by  superficial  and  rash  apolo- 
gists, to  an  unworthy  alliance  with  baseness,  fear,  and  vol- 
untary blindness.  These  last  have  cruelly  complicated  the 
task  of  the  upright  man,  who  would  defend  and  avenge  the 
truth  without  becoming  the  accomplice  of  any  persecution  or 
servitude.  Perhaps  he  is  not  warranted  in  saying  to  them, 
"  Ye  know  not  what  spirit  ye  are  of; "  but  he  is  at  least  en- 
titled to  establish  the  lact  that  he  is  not,  and  never  was,  of 
their  camp;  that  he  neither  follows  the  same  path  nor  bears 
the  same  flag.  He  would  wiUingly  speak  with  the  prophet 
of  ''  the  wall  between  me  and  them."^  For  there  are  times 
when  it  is  needful  that  he  should  separate  himself,  with  the 
melancholy  and  resolution  of  the  patriarch  when  he  said  to 
his  nearest  relative,  "Is  not  the  whole  land  before  thee? 
separate  thyself,  I  pray  thee,  from  me:  if  thou  wilt  take  the 
left  hand,  then  I  will  go  to  the  right ;  or  if  thou  depart  to  the 
right  hand,  then  I  will  go  to  the  left."  ^ 

•  "Those  infamous  middle  ages,  the  disgrace  of  civilization  and  dislionor 
to  the  human  mind."  —  Journal  des  Debats  of  the  27tli  November.  1854. 
"  When  we  see  a  spirit  which  is  nourished  by  rancor  and  hatred  against  lib- 
erty, pronress,  and  tolerance,  show  itself  among  certain  persons  in  a  certain 
party,  who  shelter  themselves  under  cover  of  the  good  old.  times,  we  ask 
ourselves  Avhetiier  it  would  not  be  better  to  abstain  from  all  demonstration 
of  sympathy  for  manners,  usages,  and  institutions  which  are  condenmed  to 
suffer  such  a  patronage  and  such  friends."  —  Revue  de  V Instruction  Publique 
of  the  11th  December,  1856.  "His  ideal  was  not  in  this  legendary  demi-day 
gray  and  sombre,  in  which  the  thin  and  wan  figures  of  the  middle  age» 
move."  —  Revue  Chreiienne  of  the  16th  November,  1859. 

'  Ezek.  xliii.  8.  *  Geu.  xiii.  9. 


120  THE    MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

The  middle  ages  stand  unfortunately  between  two  camps 
at  the  deepest  enmity  with  each  other,  which  only  agree  in 
misconstruing  it.  The  one  hate  it,  because  they  believe  it 
an  enemy  to  all  liberty  :  the  others  praise  it,  because  the}^ 
seek  arguments  and  examples  there,  to  justify  tlie  universal 
servitude  and  prostration  which  they  extol.  Both  are  agreed 
to  travesty  and  insult  it,  the  one  by  their  invectives,  the 
others  by  their  eulogiums. 

I  affirm  that  both  deceive  themselves,  and  that  they  are 
equally  and  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  middle  ages,  which 
were  an  epoch  of  faith,  but  also  a  period  of  strife,  of  discus- 
siun,  of  dignity,  and,  above  all,  of  freedom. 

The  error  common  to  both  admirers  and  detractors  of  the 
middle  ages  consists  in  seeing  there  the  reign  and  triumph 
of  theocracy.  It  was,  they  tell  us,  a  time  distinguished  for- 
ever by  human  impotence,  and  by  the  glorious  dictatorship 
of  the  Church.9 

I  deny  the  dictatorship,  and  I  still  more  strongly  deny  the 
human  impotence. 

Humanity  was  never  more  fertile,  more  manful,  more 
potent;  and  as  for  the  Church,  she  has  never  seen  her  au- 
thority more  contested  in  practice,  even  by  those  who  rec- 
ognized it  most  dutifully  in  theory. 

Unity  of  faith  was  the  reigning  principle  then,  as  unity  of 
civil  law  and  national  constitution  is  the  reigning  principle 
of  the  present  time,  in  all  modern  nations.  But  among  a  free 
people,  like  England  or  the  United  States,  where  do  we  see 
that  civil  and  social  unity  stifle  the  vitality,  the  energy,  the 
individual  and  collective  independence?  It  was  thus  with 
the  Catholic  unity  of  the  middle  ages.  It  quenched  in  no 
degree  either  political  or  intellectual  life.  The  uniformity 
of  a  worship  universally  popular,  the  tender  and  sincere  sub- 
mission of  hearts  and  minds  to  revealed  truth  and  the  teach- 
ings of  the  Church,  excluded  no  prepossession  for,  no  discus- 
sion of,  the  most  elevated  and  difficult  questions  of  philosophy 
and  morality.  The  principle  of  authority  implied  no  rupture, 
either  with  the  free  genius  of  antiquity,  so  faithfully  and 
ardently  cultivared  (as  we  shall  prove)  in  the  Benedictine 
cloisters,  nor  with  the  natural  and  progressive  development 
of  the  human  mind.  Need  we  recall  the  immense  develop- 
ments of  scholasticism,  those  exercises  of  intelligence  at  once 
so  bold  and   subtile,  so  propitious,  despite  their  undeniable 

^  DoNOso  CoKxfes,  Reponse  a  M.  Albert  de  Broglie,  in  the  Spaiiish  edition 
of  his  works. 


INTRODUCTION.  121 

blanks,  to  the  force  and  elasticity  of  argument?  Need  we 
enumerate  those  great,  numerous,  and  powerful  universities, 
so  full  of  life,  so  free,  sometimes  even  so  rebellious,  where 
the  independence  of  the  masters  was  equalled  only  by  that 
of  an  ardent  and  turbulent  youth,  attacking  every  day  a 
thousand  questions,  which  would  terrify  the  suspicious 
ortliodoxy  of  our  days?  Need  we  adduce,  finally,  the  liberty, 
and  even  license,  of  those  satires,  which,  in  the  popular  and 
chivalrous  poetry,  in  fables  and  songs,  even  in  the  products 
of  art  which  were  consecrated  to  worship,  carried  almost  to 
excess  the  right  of  public  criticism  and  discussion  ?  ^'^ 

In  those  times  so  ridiculously  calumL.ated,  a  devouring  de- 
sire to  work  and  to  learn  animated  all  minds.  The  heroic 
and  persevering  ardor  which  carried  the  Marco  Polos  and 
Plancarpins  to  the  extremities  of  the  known  world,  through 
distances  and  dangers  which  our  contemporaries  have  lost 
the  power  of  conceiving,  inspired  travellers  not  less  intrepid 
in  the  regions  of  thought.  The  human  mind  exercised  itself 
with  Gerbert  and  Scot  us  Ei'igena  in  the  most  arduous  and 
delicate  problems.  The  most  orthodox,  such  as  St,  Anselm 
and  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  shrank  before  none  of  the  difficul- 
ties of  psychology  or  metaphysics.  Some  might  be  led 
astra}'  into  audacious  theories,  hostile  to  the  spirit  of  the 
Church  and  the  Gospel.  But  not  an  individual,  we  can  affirm 
boldly,  resigned  himself  to  the  abdication  or  slumber  of 
reason. 

Let  us  go  further,  and  ask  if,  to-day,  despite  printing, 
despite  the  happy  but  insufiicient  progress  of  popular  educa- 
tion, despite  our  apparent  universal  acquaintance  with  the 
sciences  and  arts,  if  it  is  entirely  certain  that  the  necessary 
equilibrium  between  material  cares  and  the  moral  life  of  the 
world  is  as  well  maintained  as  then.  Let  us  ask  if  the  spirit- 
ual element  of  human  nature,  cultivation  of  ideas,  moral 
enthusiasm,  all  the  noble  life  of  thought,  is  as  w^ell  repre- 
sented, as  energetically  developed,  and  as  abundantly  pro- 
vided for  among  ourselves  as  among  our  ancestors.  For  my 
own  part,  I  permit  myself  to  doubt  it;  and  1  believe  that, 
well   considered   and   compared,  no  period   has   more   richly 

'"  See  on  tliis  subject  the  curious  book  of  M.  Lenient,  La  Satire  en  Franct 
an  Moyen  Age.  Paris,  1859;  and  tlie  history  De  la  Fable  Esopique  of  M. 
Edelestarid  du  Meril,  wliich  serves  as  an  introduction  to  his  Poesies  Liedites 
du  Moyen  Age  ;  and.  in  short,  all  tlie  recent  volumes  of  the  Histoire  Litte 
raire  de  France,  continued  by  the  Academy  of  Inscriptions. 

\roL.  I.  11 


122  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

endo\Yed  and  more  ardently  cultivated  tlie  domains  of  the 
mind  and  soul,  than  the  middle  ages. 

Religion,  it  is  true,  governed  all ;  but  she  stifled  nothing. 
She  u^as  not  banished  into  a  corner  of  society,  immured  with- 
in the  enclosure  of  her  own  temples,  or  of  individual  con- 
science. On  the  contrary,  she  was  invited  to  animate, 
enlighten,  and  penetrate  everything  with  the  spirit  of  life  : 
and,  after  she  had  set  the  foundation  of  the  edifice  upon  a 
base  which  could  not  be  shaken,  her  maternal  hand  returned 
to  crown  its  summit  with  light  and  beauty.  None  were 
placed  too  high  to  obey  her,  and  none  fell  so  low  as  to  be  out 
of  reach  of  her  consolations  and  protection.  From  the  king 
to  tiie  iiermit,  all  yielded  at  some  time  to  the  sway  of  lier 
pure  and  generous  inspirations.  The  memory  of  Redemp- 
tion, of  that  debt  contracted  towards  God  by  the  race  which 
was  redeemed  on  Calvary,  mingled  with  everything,  and  was 
to  be  found  in  all  institutions,  in  all  monuments,  and  at  cer- 
tain moments  in  all  hearts.  The  victory  of  charity  over 
selfishness,  of  humility  over  pride,  of  spirit  over  flesh,  of  all 
that  is  elevated  in  our  nature  over  all  tlie  ignoble  and  impure 
elements  included  in  it,  was  as  frequent  as  human  weakness 
permitted.  That  victory  is  never  complete  here  below;  but 
we  can  affirm  without  fear  that  it  never  was  approached  so 
closeU'.  Since  the  first  great  defiance  thrown  down  by  the 
establishment  of  Christianity  to  the  triumph  of  evil  in  the 
worhl,  n^ver  perhaps  has  the  empire  of  the  devil  been  so 
much  shaken  and  contested. 

Must  we  tlien  conclude  that  the  middle  ages  are  the  ideal 
period  of  Christian  society?  Ought  we  to  see  there  the 
normal  condition  of  the  world?  God  forbid!  In  the  first 
place,  there  never  has  been,  and  never  will  be,  a  normal  state 
or  irreproachable  epoch  in  this  earth.  And,  besides,  if  that 
ideal  could  be  realized  here  below,  it  is  not  in  the  middle 
ages  that  it  has  been  attained.  These  ages  have  been  called 
the  ages  of  fiiith ;  and  they  have  been  justh^  so  called,  for 
faith  was  more  sovereign  then  than  in  any  other  epoch  of 
history.  But  there  we  must  stop.  This  is  much,  but  it  ia 
enough  for  the  truth.  We  cannot  venture  to  maintain  that 
virtue  and  happiness  have  been  throughout  these  ages  on 
a  level  with  faith.  A  thousand  incontrovertible  witnesses 
would  rise  up  to  protest  against  such  a  rash  assertion,  to 
recall  the  general  insecurity,  the  too  frequent  triumphs  of 
violence,  iniquity,  cruelty,  deceit,  sometimes  oven  of  refined 
depravity  ;  to  demonstrate  that  the  human  and  even  diaboli- 


INTRODUCTION.  123 

cal  elern'^Tit  reasserted  only  too  strongly  their  asijendency  in 
the  world.  By  the  side  of  the  opened  heavens,  hell  always 
appeared:  and  beside  those  prodigies  of  sanctity  which  are 
so  rare  elsewhere,  were  to  be  found  ruffians  scarcely  inferioi 
to  those  Roman  emperors  whom  Bossuet  calls  "  monsters  of 
the  human  race." 

The  Church,  which  is  always  influenced,  up  to  a  certain 
point,  by  contemporary  civilization,  endured  many  abuses 
and  scandals,  the  very  idea  of  which  would  to-day  horrify 
both  her  children  and  her  enemies.  They  proceeded  some- 
limes  from  that  corruption  which  is  inseparable  from  the 
exercise  of  great  power  and  the  possession  of  great  wealth  ; 
sometimes,  and  most  frequently,  from  the  invasions  of  the  lay 
spirit  and  temporal  power.  Yes,  cupidity,  violence,  and 
debauchery  revolted  often,  and  with  success,  against  the 
yoke  of  the  Gospel,  even  among  its  own  ministers  ;  they  in- 
fected even  the  organs  of  the  law  promulgated  to  repress 
them.  We  can  and  ought  to  confess  it  without  fear,  because 
tlie  evil  was  almost  always  overcome  by  the  good  ;  because 
all  these  excesses  were  redeemed  by  marvels  of  self-denial, 
penitence,  and  charity ;  because  beside  every  fall  is  found 
an  expiation  ;  for  every  misery  an  asylum ;  to  every  wick- 
edness some  resistance.  Sometimes  in  cells  of  monasteries, 
sometimes  in  caves  of  the  rocks  ;  here,  under  the  tiara  or  the 
raitre  ;  there,  under  the  helmet  and  coat  of  arms,  thousands 
of  souls  fought  vv'ith  glory  and  perseverance  the  battles  of  the 
Lord,  fortifying  the  feeble  by  their  example,  reviving  the 
enthusiasm  even  of  those  who  neither  wished  nor  knew  how 
to  imitate  them,  and  displaying  over  the  vices  and  disorders 
of  the  crowd  the  splendid  light  of  their  prodigious  austerity, 
their  profuse  charit}',  their  unwearied  love  of  God.  But  all 
this  dazzling  light  of  virtue  and  sanctity  ought  not  to  blind 
us  to  what  lay  beneath.  There  were  more  saints,  more 
monks,  and,  above  all,  more  believers,  than  in  our  days  ;  but 
1  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  there  were  fewer  priests,  I  mean 
good  priests.  Yes ;  the  secular  clergy  of  the  middle  ages 
were  les8  pure,  less  exemplary  than  ours  ;  the  episcopate  was 
less  respectable,  and  the  spiritual  authority  of  the  Holy  Seo 
much  less  severeign  than  now.  This  assertion  will,  perhaps, 
astonish  some  in  their  ignorant  admiration  ;  but  it  is  not  the 
less  easy  to  prove  it.  The  pontihcal  power  has,  at  the  pres- 
ent time,  subjects  less  numerous,  but  infinitely  more  docile. 
What  it  has  lost  in  extent,  it  has  more  than  gained  in  inten* 
83  ty. 


124  THE    MONKS    OF    THE   WEST. 

And  besides  this,  the  dominion  of  the  Church,  usurped  by 
flome,  disputed  by  others,  and  balanced  by  a  crowd  of  rival 
or  vassal  authorities,  was  never  all-powerful  nor  uncontested. 
She  saw  her  laws  perpetually  violated,  her  discipline  altered, 
her  rights  scorned,  not  only  in  temporal  matters  but  in  spir- 
itual ;  not  as  now,  by  declared  enemies,  but  by  the  so-called 
faithful,  who,  when  their  pride  or  their  interest  required  it, 
knew  how  to  brave  her  thunders  with  as  much  coolness  as 
the  esprits  forts  of  our  own  time.  The  true  grandeur  and 
strength  of  the  Church  of  the  middle  ages  lay,  not  in  her 
wealth  or  power,  not  in  being  loved,  served,  and  protected 
by  princes,  but  in  her  freedom.  She  was  free  by  right  of 
the  general  liberty,  such  as  was  comprehended  and  practised 
in  those  days,  which  belonged  to  all  corporations  and  pro- 
priet(jrs  ;  she  enjoyed  the  largest  amount  of  freedom  known, 
because  she  was  at  the  same  time  the  greatest  corporation 
and  the  largest  landowner  in  Europe.  This  freedom,  which 
has  always  been  the  first  guarantee  of  her  majesty,  of  her 
fruitfulness,  of  her  duration,  the  first  condition  of  her  life,  she 
possessed  more  completely  then,  than  at  any  previous  period  ; 
and  never  (save  in  those  few  States  where  modern  liberty 
has  been  able  to  shake  off"  all  superannuated  fetters)  has  she 
possessed  it  to  the  same  degree  since.  And  as  the  destinies 
and  riglits  of  the  Church  and  each  Christian  soul  are  identical, 
never  was  the  soul  more  free,  free  to  do  good,  to  give  itself 
to  God,  to  sacrifice  itself  to  its  neighbor.  From  thence  come 
these  marvels  of  devotion,  of  charity,  and  of  sanctit}^,  which 
charm  and  dazzle  us. 

But  it  would  be  the  most  complete  and  inexcusable  error 
to  imagine  that  this  liberty  was  universally  recognized  and 
uncontested.  On  the  contrary,  it  lived  and  triumphed  only 
in  the  midst  of  storms.  It  was  necessary  to  struggle  for  it 
unceasingly,  to  wrest  it  from  the  grasp  of  lay  pretensions 
and  rivalries,  from  the  dominion  of  temporal  interests.  The 
Church  was,  besides,  happily  and  usefull}''  '•  restrained  by 
civil  liberty,  which  kept  her  from  degenerating  into  a  domi- 
nant theocracy."  ^^  We  must  then  acknowledge  that  the 
Church  had  never,  and  in  no  place,  an  absolute  and  perma- 
nent supremacy —  that  she  has  never,  and  nowhere,  seen 
her  adversaries  annihilated  or  chained  at  her  feet.     This  was 

f)recise!y  the  pledge  of  her  long  and  glorious  influence,  her 
asting  ascendency,  her  blessed  action  upon  souls  and  laws. 

"  Lacordaire,  Comparison  of  the  Flaviens  and  Capetiens,  in  the  Ccrrc 
spondant  of  the  25tli  June,  1859. 


INTRODUCTION.  125 

^^lie  required  (o  be  always  in  resistance,  always  renewing 
herself"  by  effort.  During  the  entire  course  of  the  true  mid- 
d  le  ages  the  Church  never  ceased  her  struggle  for  a  single 
day ;  it  was  granted  her  oftener  to  vanquish  than  to  fall 
back ;  she  never  underwent  a  complete  defeat ;  but  never 
either  could  she  lie  down  to  sleep  in  the  pride  of  triumph,  or 
in  the  enervating  peace  of  dictatorship. 

Never,  then,  was  anything  more  false  and  puerile  than  the 
strange  pretence  maintained  by  certain  tardy  supporters  of 
the  Catholic  renaissance,  of  presenting  the  middle  ages  to  us 
as  a  period  in  which  the  Church  was  always  victorious  and 
protected  ;  as  a  promised  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey, 
governed  by  kings  and  nobles  piously  kneeling  before  the 
priests,  and  by  a  devout,  silent,  and  docile  crowd,  tranquilly 
stretched  out  under  the  crook  of  their  pastors,  to  sleep  in  the 
shade,  under  the  double  authority  of  the  inviolably  respected 
throne  and  altar.  Far  from  that,  there  never  were  greater 
passions,  more  disorders,  wars,  and  revolts ;  but  at  the  same 
time  there  were  never  greater  virtues,  more  generous  efforts 
for  the  service  of  goodness.  All  was  war,  dangers,  and 
tempests,  in  the  Church  as  in  the  State  ;  but  all  was  likewise 
strong,  robust,  and  vivacious :  everything  bore  the  impres- 
sion of  life  and  strife.  On  one  side  faith,  a  faith  sincere, 
naive,  simple,  and  vigorous,  without  hypocrisy  as  without 
insolence,  neither  servile  nor  narrow-minded,  exhibiting 
every  day  the  imposing  spectacle  of  strength  in  humility  ;  on 
the  other,  institutions  militant  and  manful,  which,  amid  a 
thousand  defects,  had  the  admirable  virtue  of  creating  men, 
not  valets  or  pious  eunuchs,  and  which  one  and  all  ordained 
these  men  to  action,  to  sacrifice,  and  continual  exertions. 
Strong  natures  everywhere  vigorously  nourished,  and  in  no 
direction  stifled,  quenched,  or  disdained,  found  their  place 
there  with  ease  and  simplicity.  Feeble  natures,  with  the 
fibre  relaxed,  found  there  the  most  fitting  regimen  to  give 
them  vigor  and  tone.  Worthy  people,  relying  upon  a  master 
who  undertook  to  defend  all  by  silencing  or  enchaining  their 
adversaries,  were  not  to  be  seen  there.  We  cannot  look 
upon  these  Christians  as  on  good  little  lambs,  bleating  de- 
voutly among  wolves,  or  taking  courage  between  the  knees 
of  the  shepherd.  They  appear,  on  the  contrary,  like  ath- 
letes, like  soldiers  engaged  every  day  in  fighting  for  the  most 
sacred  possessions  :  in  a  word,  like  men  armed  with  the  most 
robust  personality  and  individual  force,  unfettered  as  uude 
cayiug. 

11* 


126  THE  MONKS  OF  THF  WEST. 

If,  then,  the  middle  ages  deserve  to  be  admired,  it  is  ppv 
oisely  for  reasons  which  would  bring  upon  them  the  condem- 
aation  of  their  recent  paneg3n'ists,  if  they  understood  bett(*r 
what  their  enthusiasm,  by  mere  misconstruction,  extols. 

I  admit,  on  the  other  hand,  that  these  times  may  well  ap- 
pear frightful  to  eyes  which  appreciate  ord^^r  and  discipline 
above  everj^thing  else,  provided  they  give  their  consent  to 
ray  proposition  that  its  virtues  and  courage  were  heroic.  I 
admit  that  its  violence  was  almost  continual,  its  superstition 
sometimes  ridiculous,  its  ignorance  too  widely  spread,  and 
its  wickedness  too  often  unpunished  ;  provided  you  grant  to 
me,  in  return,  that  the  consciousness  of  human  dignity  has 
never  been  more  vividly  impressed  in  the  depths  of  men's 
heaits,  and  that  the  first  of  all  Ibrces,  and  the  only  one  really 
to  bo  respected,  the  strength  of  the  soul,  has  never  reigned 
with  less  disputed  supremacy. 

As  for  those  among  its  detractors,  who  accuse  the  Catholic 
past  of  the  Western  races  of  being  incompatible  with  free- 
dom, we  can  oppose  to  them  the  unanimous  testimonj',  not 
only  of  all  historical  monuments,  but  of  all  those  democratic 
writers  of  our  own  day,  who  have  profoundly  studied  this 
past ;  above  all,  of  M.  Augustin'  Thierry,  who  has  shown  so 
well  how  many  barriers  and  guarantees  had  to  be  overthrown 
by  royalty  before  it  would  establish  its  universal  sway. 
This  ancient  world  was  bristling  with  liberty.  The  spirit  of 
resistance,  the  sentiment  of  individual  right,  penetrated  it 
entirely;  and  it  is  this  which  always  and  everywhere  con- 
stitutes the  essence  of  freedom.  That  freedom  has  estab- 
lished everywhere  a  system  of  counterpoise  and  restraint, 
which  rendered  all  prolonged  despotism  absolutely  impossi- 
ble. But  its  special  guarantees  were  two  principles  which 
modern  society  has  renounced  —  the  principles  o{  heredite 
and  association.  Besides,  they  appear  to  us  under  the  form 
of  privileges,  which  is  enough  to  prevent  many  from  under- 
standing or  admiring  them. 

Certainly  the  misfortunes,  disappointments,  and  stains  of 
modern  liberty,  should  not  weaken  the  faithful  love  which 
she  inspires  in  generous  souls.  No  fault,  no  grievance  ought 
to  detach  those  whom  she  has  once  warmed  with  her  love. 
But,  at  the  same  time,  these  faults  and  grievances  compel  ua 
to  be  modest  and  indulgent  in  regard  to  the  restrained  or 
imperfect  forms  in  which  she  has  been  clothed  among  our 
fathers.  Liberty  had  no  existence  then  in  the  condition  of 
a  theory  or  abstract  principle  applied  to  the  general  mass  of 


IXTRriDUCTION.  127 

humanity ,  to  all  nations,  even  those  who  neither  desire  nor 
know  her.  But  freedom  was  a  fact  and  a  right  to  many 
men,  to  a  larger  number  than  possess  her  now ;  and  for  all 
who  appreciated  and  wished  for  her,  was  much  more  easy 
both  to  acquire  and  to  preserve. 

To  whom  is  i'reedom  especially  necessary  ?  To  individu- 
als and  to  minorities.  They  found  her,  during  these  ages, 
under  limits,  which  the  mutual  control  of  natural  or  tradi- 
tional forces  imposed  upon  all  authority  and  sovereignty 
whatsoever.  They  found  her  specially  in  the  happy  multi- 
plicity of  those  small  states,  those  independent  monarchies, 
those  provincial  or  municipal  republics,  which  have  always 
been  bulwarks  of  the  dignity  of  man,  and  the  theatre  of  his 
most  salutary  exertions ;  where  the  courageous  and  capable 
citizen  finds  the  greatest  scope  for  his  legitimate  ambi- 
tion, and  where  he  is  less  swallowed  up  and  lost  in  the 
general  mass  than  in  great  states. 

Further,  our  proud  ancestors  ignored  the  very  idea  of  that 
unlimited  power  of  the  State  which  is  now  so  ardently  ap- 
pealed to,  or  easily  accepted  everj^'where.  What  have  been 
called  "the  necessary  evils  of  unlimited  monarchy," ^^  were 
nowhere  recognized  among  them.  Since  then  the  unity  and 
absolute  independence  of  sovereign  power  have  replaced  in 
the  world  the  sentiment  and  guarantees  of  personal  liberty. 
The  better  to  attain  and  secure  equality,  we  have  applied 
ourselves  to  the  work  of  suppressing  all  little  states  and  local 
existence,  of  breaking  every  link  which  unites  us  to  ancient 
freedom.  All  connection  has  been  cast  asi«'!|e  with  tlie  tradi- 
tions of  dignity  and  right  which  she  has  produced.  A  dead 
level  has  been  regarded  as  a  mark  of  progress,  and  identity 
of  yoke  as  a  guarantee.  It  has  been  said,  in  so  many  words, 
that  the  triumph  of  the  despotism  of  one  is  better  than  the 
maintenance  of  the  liberty  of  many.  People  will  put  up  with 
a  master,  in  order  to  have  no  chiefs;  and  have  voted  the 
death  of  right,  in  fear  of  aiding  the  resurrection  of  privilege. 
They  have  succeeded ;  an  equality  like  that  of  China  has 
been  attained  ;  and  we  know  too  wall  what  price  must  be 
paid  for  that  acquisition,  and  how  much  honor  and  liberty  it 
leaves  beliind  to  the  nations  which  have  yielded  to  its  sway. 
RcceijeruLut  mercedem  sicam,  vani  vanam. 

God  forbid,  despite  the  appearances  and  melancholy  teach- 
ings of  this  actual  time  —  God  forbid  that  we  should  assert 

**  AuGUSTiN  Thierry,  Introduction  aux  Monuments  de  V Hisioire  du 
Tiers-Mat,  p.  244,  4to. 


128  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

equality  to  be  incompatible  with  liberty  ;  but  up  to  tlio  pre 3 
erit  time,  the  art  of  making  them  live  and  last  together  has 
not  been  discovered  in  any  of  the  great  countries  of  the 
European  continent.  We  should  therefore  exercise  forbear- 
ance, at  least,  towards  an  age  in  which,  without  caring  for  an 
equality  which  no  one  claimed  or  dreamt  of,  men  possessed 
tlie  sentiment  and  use  of  freedom,  which  they  knew  how  to 
reconcile  more  or  less  with  authority,  as  variety  was  recon- 
ciled with  unity,  and  a  profound  respect  for  individual  right 
with  the  force  and  fruitfulness  of  the  spirit  of  association. 

It  was  the  energetic  and  manly  character  of  their  institu- 
tions and  men,  which  secured  the  reign  of  liberty  in  the 
middle  ages.  We  have  already  pointed  this  out,  but  we  can- 
not revert  to  it  too  often.  Everything  there  breathes  free- 
dom, health,  and  life  —  all  is  full  of  vigor,  force,  and  youth. 
"Tis  like  the  first  burst  of  nature  whose  spontaneous  vigor 
had  not  yet  been  robbed  of  any  portion  of  its  grace  and 
charm.  We  see  limpid  and  healthful  currents  everywhere 
springing  forth  and  extending  themselves.  They  encounter 
a  thousand  obstacles  and  embarrassments  upon  their  way  :  but 
almost  always  they  surmount  and  overthrow  these,  to  carry 
afar  the, fertilizing  virtue  of  their  waters. 

A  generous  leaven  ferments  in  the  bosom  of  that  apparent 
confusion.  Virtue  and  truth  take  the  lead,  by  sustained 
efforts,  and  the  prolonged  sacrifices  of  a  multitude  of  admi- 
rable souls.  We  discover  unceasingly,  and  contemplate  with 
joy,  these  unwearied  souls  devoted  to  a  constant  struggle 
against  evil,  and  all  oppressions  and  tyrannies,  laboriously 
initiated  into  the  triumphs  of  moral  force,  and  heroically  faith- 
ful to  that  faith  in  God's  justice  which  it  is  so  necessary  but 
so  difficult  to  maintain  while  waiting  here  below  for  the  rare 
and  uncertain  manifestations  of  that  justice  in  history. 

In  our  daj's,  it  is  true,  we  have  destroyed  all  the  institu- 
tions and  superior  powers  whose  duration  and  grandeur 
weighed  often  with  too  heavy  a  burden  upon  the  common 
mass  of  men.  But  what  inestimable  resources  for  the 
strength  atid  happiness  of  the  people  have  we  hot  condemned 
to  annihilation  with  them  !  How  often  have  we  acted  like 
these  insane  destroyers,  who,  under  pretext  of  exterminating 
the  birds  of  prey,  have  unpeopled  the  forest  of  its  guests, 
of  its  songs,  of  its  life,  and  overthrown  the  harmony  of  nature  ? 
You  think  you  have  got  rid  of  the  eagles?  Be  it  so  !  But 
who  shall  free  3'ou  now  from  the  reptiles  and  venomous 
insects  ? 


INTRODUCTION.  1 29 

Oiioe  more,  let  me  assert  that  I  would  not  deny  tlie  vio- 
lences, abuses,  and  crimes  of  that  misunderstood  past.  In 
the  course  of  ray  narrative  these  will  be  very  apparent.  I 
deny  none  of  the  advantages,  the  progress,  and  real  benefits 
which  have  resulted  from  the  change  of  manners  and  ideas 
in  modern  society.  Such  indisputable  and  most  fortunate 
advantages  do  exist,  in  the  comfort  of  the  inferior  classes,  the 
improvement  of  manners,  the  administration  of  justice,  the 
general  security,  the  abolition  of  many  atrocious  penalties 
against  spiritual  and  temporal  errois,  the  happy  impotency 
of  fanaticism  and  religious  persecution,  the  shorter  and  less 
cruel  wars,  and  the  universal  respect  for  the  rights  of 
humanity.  I  only  question  whether  there  may  not  have 
been  a  proportional  loss  in  energy  of  character,  in  love  of 
liberty,  and  in  the  instinct  of  honor.  I  do  not  think  that  1 
ignore  either  the  rights  or  necessities  of  my  time.  I  accept 
without  reserve  and  regret  the  social  condition  which  is  the 
product  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  which,  under  the 
name  of  democracy,  reigns  and  will  reign  more  and  more  in 
the  modern  world.  I  hail  with  joy  that  inestimable  advan- 
tage of  equality  before  the  law,  which  is  a  thousand  times 
more  precious  to  the  vanquished  than  to  the  victors,  pro- 
vided hypocrisy  does  not  confiscate  it  to  the  profit  of  the 
strongest.  When  political  freedom,  under  the  sole  form 
which  it  can  bear  in  our  country,  reigned  among  us,  and 
seemed  likely  to  spread  through  all  Europe,  I  loyally  served 
and  practised  it,  and,  thanks  to  Heaven  !  never  feared  its 
reign  for  the  truth.  If  that  freedom  should  ever  reappear, 
far  from  feeling  alarm,  I  should  bless  its  return. 

The  powers  of  tlie  day  teach  us  that  it  is  incompatible 
with  democracy,  which  is  the  inevitable  law  of  the  New 
World,  and  that  this  can  only  live  and  prosper  along  with 
tjquality  and  authority.  Let  us  hope  that  they  deceive  them- 
selves. And  even  if  they  are  right,  let  us  entreat  democracy 
not  to  benumb  and  enervate  democratic  nations,  not  to 
render  them  incapable  of  sell-government,  self-defence,  and 
sell-respect.  Let  us  hope,  that,  after  having  bowed  down 
every  head,  she  may  know  better  than  to  enslave  every 
heart. 

But  while  I  hear  the  accents  of  that  frightful  adulation  of 
fallen  humanity,  which  is  the  distinctive  characteristic  of  too 
many  modern  writers  —  whilst  I  see  them  lying  prostrate 
before  that  idol  which  personifies  their  own  vanity  as  well  as 
that  of  their  readers,  and  exhausting  all  the  resources  of  a 


180  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

frivolons  enthusiasm  to  iutoxicate  contemporary  generations 
with  impure  incense  —  I  remain  sadly  impressed  by  the 
spectacle  of  the  debasement,  feebleness,  and  growing  impo- 
tence of  each  individual  man  in  modern  society.  Does  not 
thi^  stupid  and  servile  apotheosis  of  the  wisdom  and  power 
of  tlie  masses  menace  us  with  the  extinction  at  once  of  every 
personal  initiative  and  all  strong  originality,  and  with  the  an- 
ni'iiiatioD,  at  the  same  time,  of  all  the  proud  susceptibilities 
ol  i;ie  soul,  and  the  genius  of  public  life?  Shall  we  not  be 
co!niemned  to  see  every  distinction,  hierarchy,  nobility,  and 
ini'.cpendence,  swallowed  up  in  that  invading  and  corrupt 
sei'vilude  which  is  exercised  in  the  name  of  the  omnipotence 
ol  i>  limbers,  and  which  debases  men  so  far  as  to  make  itself  be- 
loved by  them? ^'^  Do  we  not  risk  the  disappearance,  beyond 
return,  of  individual  dignity  and  liberty,  under  the  absolute 
sovereignty  of  the  State,  of  that  despot  v.'ho  never  dies,  and 
who  already  extends  everywhere  his  irresistible  and  pitiless 
level  over  prostrate  human  dust?  And  even  beyond  the 
sphere  of  politics,  who  can  throw  an  attentive  and  affection- 
ate glance  upon  the  actual  world  without  being  struck  by  its 
intellectual  and  moral  impoverishment,  even  amidst  the  im- 
posing grandeur  of  its  material  conquests  and  comforts? 
Who  does  not  recoil  before  that  flat  monotony,  that  vast 
ennui,  which  threatens  to  become  the  distinctive  character- 
istic of  future  civilization  ?  Who  does  not  feel  that  the  moral 
jurisdiction  of  souls  lowers  itself  every  day  under  the  empire 
of  material  interests?  Who  does  not  tremble  at  that  univer- 
sal and  progressive  empire  of  mediocrity  in  theory  as  in  prac- 
tice, in  men  as  in  things  ?  Who  does  not  dimlj^  foresee  an 
era  of  general  baseness  and  weakness,  so  much  the  more  in- 
curable that  these  sad  infirmities  are  the  natural  and  logical 
product  of  principles  and  institutions  in  which  blind  philoso- 
phers have  pretended  to  concentrate  the  laws  of  progress, 
wh«re  quality  is  always  stifled  by  quantity,  and  right  sacri- 
ficed to  force  ? 

Weakness  and  baseness  !  these  are  precisely  the  things 
which  were  most  completely  unknown  to  the  middle  ages. 
They  had  their  vices  and  crimes,  numerous  and  atrocious : 
but  in  them  strong  and  proud  hearts  never  failed.  In  public 
life  as  in  private,  in  the  world  as  in  the  cloister,  strong;  and 
magnanimous  souls  everywhere  break  forth  —  illu.'itrioua 
character  and  great  individuals  abounded. 

'^  Vauvenaiyues. 


INTRODUCTION.  131 

And  therein  lies  the  true,  the  undeniable  superiority  of  the 
middle  ages.     It  was  an  epoch  fertile  in  men  — 

"  Magna  parens  virum." 

What  and  where  has  been  always  the  great  obstacle  to  the 
triumph  of  virtue  and  truth  upon  earth?  Surely  not  in  the 
laws,  the  dogmas,  and  sacrifices,  which  impose  or  imply  the 
possession  of  truth.  We  find  it  rather  in  those  men  whtse 
duty  it  is  to  proclaim  truth,  to  represent  virtue,  and  to  defend 
justice,  and  who,  too  often  unequal  to  their  task  and  unlaith- 
ful  to  their  mission,  turn  back  towards  error  or  evil  the  gen- 
erations whose  guides  and  responsible  teachers  the}  vere. 
Faith  and  laws  have  never  been  wanting  to  man  :  it  is  man 
himself  who  betrays  his  doctrine,  his  belief,  and  his  duties 
Give  the  world  for  its  masters  and  models,  men,  pure,  de- 
vout, energetic,  humble  in  faith  and  obedient  to  duty,  but 
intrepid  and  incapable  of  softness  and  baseness — real  men; 
and  the  world  will  be  always,  if  not  saved  by  them,  at  least 
attentive  to  their  voice,  inspired  b}^  their  lessons,  and  often 
led  on  or  kept  in  order  by  their  example.  They  will  almost 
always  triumph  over  evil ;  they  will  invariably  make  them- 
selves respected  by  all  and  followed  by  many. 

The  middle  ages  produced  a  multitude  of  men  of  this  tem- 
per; they  produced  many  of  a  different  kind;  profligates 
and  wretches  were  numerous  then  as  everywhere,  and  in  all 
times  ;  but  their  number  was  balanced  and  even  surpassed 
by  that  of  saints  and  good  men,  men  of  heart  and  honor. 
They  appear,  one  by  one,  to  our  astonished  eyes,  like  the 
summits  of  the  mountains  after  the  Deluge,  and  they  rise 
higher  day  by  day  in  proportion  as  the  waves  of  falsehood 
and  ignorance  abate  and  retire.  Let  us  study  these  men  ; 
let  us  sound  their  hearts  and  reins  ;  let  us  dissect  their  deeds 
and  their  writings  —  they  have  nothing  to  fear  from  that 
analysis,  even  when  made  by  the  most  hostile  hands.  We 
shall  there  see  whether,  as  incorrigible  ignorance  maintains, 
Catholicism  weakens  man,  whether  faith  and  humility  lessen 
intelligence  and  courage,  and  whether  there  has  ever  been 
more  energy  or  grandeur  than  in  those  souls  which  a  vulgar 
prejudice  represents  to  us  as  the  creatures  of  fanaticism  and 
superstition. 

"  It  appears,"  said  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  honest 
writers  of  our  age,  "  in  reading  the  histories  cf  the  aristo- 
cratic ages,  that,  to  become  master  of  his  own  late  and  to 
rule  his  fellows,  a  man  has  only  to  overcome  himself.     But  iu 


132  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

running  over  the  histories  of  our  own  times,  one  would  say 
that  mai:  can  do  nothing,  neither  for  himself  nor  those  around 
him."  14 

Prom  whence  comes  this  miserable  decline  ?  Since  man 
has  lost  the  rein  which  directed  and  controlled  him,  since 
imprudent  and  impious  htinds  have  proscribed  that  discipline 
of  Catholicism  which  human  liberty  has  such  imperative 
need  of,  the  souls  of  men  have  subsided  upon  themselves  ; 
in  place  of  Christian  liberty  they  have  encountered  servi- 
tude, and  in  the  midst  of  revolt  have  permitted  themselves 
to  fall  into  impotence. 

M.  de  Tocqueville  has  said  truly,  To  subdue  self  is  the 
socre*".  of  strength.  First  to  subdue  and  then  to  devote 
iino'b  self,  was  the  foundation  of  the  monastic  institution; 
but  it  was  also  in  civil  and  public  life  the  foundation  of  the 
noble  characters  as  well  as  the  solid  institutions  and  robust 
liberties  of  our  Catholic  ancestors. 

When  we  have  long  contemplated  and  studied  them  thor- 
oughly, we  fill  back  with  sad  astonishment  upon  the  tame 
and  feeble  temperaments,  the  failing  hearts,  the  weakened 
character  and  enervated  will  of  which  modern  society  is 
formed,  and  which  would  make  us  despair  of  the  future,  had 
not  God  made  hope  a  virtue  and  a  duty. 

For  it  is  not  evil,  nor  its  undeniable  progress,  more  or  less, 
which  should  disquiet  us.  We  tremble  rather  before  the 
weakness  of  virtue.  1  do  not  know  that  vice  has  not  been 
more  flagrant,  intense,  and  universal  in  other  times  than  the 
present;  but  I  do  know,  unless  history  is  avast  falsehood 
from  beginning  to  end  that  virtue  has  never  been  so  ener- 
vated and  so  timid.  I  speak  especially  of  public  life.  I 
admit  and  admire  the  treasures  of  faith  and  charity  which  the 
actual  world  encloses  in  its  bosom.  But  are  the  virtues  of 
private  life  enough  for  nations  emancipated  by  the  blood  of 
Christ?  and  besides,  is  it  not  always,  sooner  or  later,  infected 
and  injured  by  social  degeneration?  At  the  present  time, 
and  in  public  life  and  the  social  sphere,  virtue  seems  only  to 
exist  in  men's  consciences  long  enough  to  be  sacrificed  at 
tlie  first  appearance  t)f  (langer,  or  touch  of  fatigue.  If  a 
struggle  is.  inevitable,  we  may  endure  it  for  the  space  of  a 
morning,  but  only  on  condition  either  ol  being  crowned  with 
victory  before  nightfdl,  or  capitulating  next  da3\ 

Success  only  is  esteemed,  the  vile  success  of  an  hour,  of  a 

'*  TocyrEviLLE,  De  la  Democratic  en  Amerique,  iii.  173. 


INTRODUCTION.  133 

moment.  This  inspires  the  most  worthy  souls  with  involun- 
tary respect.  Resistance,  long  and  thorough,  appears  to 
them  insane  and  impossible.  We  no  longer  know  either  the 
secrets  of  courage,  the  holy  joys  of  sacrifice,  or  the  magic 
of  danger  nobly  encountered  in  a  noble  cause.  Thus  the 
reign  of  the  infidel  is  less  assured  than  that  of  the  coward. 
Alas  !  it  is  our  own  weakness  which  is  our  worst  enemy  ;  it 
is  this  which  makes  the  good  man  not  only  the  involuntary 
slave,  but  the  docile  servant,  instrument,  and  accomplice  of 
the  wicked.  Of  all  the  arts,  that  one  which  has  been  brought 
to  the  greatest  perfection  among  us,  is  the  art  of  laying  down 
our  arms  and  stooping  our  neck  under  the  yoke.  We  live  in 
the  age  of  concessions,  of  failures,  of  base  complaisance  for 
everything  that  has  the  appearance  of  strength.  Fear  is  our 
queen.  VVe  long,  like  Esther  before  Ahasueras,  to  kiss  the 
end  of  her  sceptre. 

This  being  so,  we  might  at  least,  in  the  midst  of  our  mod- 
ern enjoyments  and  security,  render  justice  to  the  great  men 
of  the  ages  of  faith.  In  the  tranquil  enjoyment  of  those  good 
things  still  guaranteed  by  the  Catholic  faith,  of  the  domestic 
virtues,  conjugal  fidelity,  and  the  security  of  the  fireside,  all 
which  we  owe  to  the  stubborn  courage  of  the  generations 
which  have  precedegl  us,  we  might  learn  to  bless  and  honor 
these  chosen  soldiers,  who  died  on  the  ramparts  whicli  pro- 
tect us  still,  who  fought  to  secure  to  us  those  truths  and  vir- 
tues which  constitute  the  common  patrimony  of  Christian 
nations. 

As  for  us,  we  ask  for  these  men  and  their  times  not  favor, 
but  justice.  Our  ambition  is  to  restore  their  aureole  to  those 
old  and  forgotten  saints  who  were  once  the  heroes  of  our  an- 
nals, the  divine  ancestors  of  all  Christian  nations,  the  patri- 
archs of  all  faithful  races,  the  immortal  models  of  spiritual 
life,  the  witnesses  and  the  martyrs  of  truth.  Our  duty  is  to 
recognize  in  their  life  the  ideal  of  Christian  humanity,  but  an 
ideal  which  all  men  in  all  times  can  approach,  and  which  has 
never  ceased  to  be  realized,  in  different  degrees,  in  the  bosom 
of  Catholic  unity. 

Through  the  clouds  which  shroud  their  memory,  they  offer 
to  us  the  grandest  and  most  encouraging  of  spectacles  — 
that  of  an  army  victorious  in  the  service  of  a  good  cause. 
The  time  in  which  they  lived  and  fought  had,  like  all  other 
times,  its  disorders,  excesses,  abuses,  and  ruins.  But  the 
cause  was  not  the  less  good,  nor  the  army  less  heroic. 

Yes,  it  may   well  be  asserted,  the  middle  ages  are,  and 

VOL.  I.  12 


134  THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST. 

shall  remain,  the  heroic  age  of  Christendom,  But  he  not 
afraid  ;  we  cannot  return  to  it.  You,  its  blind  panegyrists, 
will  attempt  it  in  vain  ;  and  you,  its  detractors  equally  blind, 
are  foolishly  alarmed  by  a  chimerical  danger.  Man  can 
neither  be  kept  in  his  cradle  nor  sent  back  there.  Youth 
does  not  return.  We  can  neither  resuscitate  its  charm  nor 
its  storms.  We  are  the  sons  of  the  middle  ages,  we  cannot 
continue  them.  Emancipated  from  the  past,  we  are  respon- 
sible only  for  the  present  and  the  future.  But,  thank  God  ! 
we  need  not  blush  for  our  cradle. 

The  question  is  not,  then,  in  any  respect,  to  reconstruct 
that  v/hich  has  disappeared  forever,  or  to  save  that  which 
God  has  permitted  to  perish  ;  the  question  is  solely  to  claim 
the  rights  of  justice  and  truth,  and  to  reassert  that  good  fame 
of  Catholic  men  and  times  which  is  our  inalienable  inheri- 
tance. Such  ought  to  be  the  sole  aim  of  this  renewal  of 
Catholic  histor}^,  which  some  men  follow  through  a  thousand 
obstacles  and  disappointments,  oftener  excited  than  arrested 
by  the  renewed  attacks  of  the  enemy,  and  still  more  frequent- 
ly troubled  and  afHicted  in  the  sincerity  of  their  efforts  by 
the  lollies  and  miseries  which  they  incur  the  risk  of  appear- 
ing responsible  for.  But  they  know  that  often,  after  long 
darkness,  the  truth  finds  secret  issues,  unforeseen  outlets, 
marvellous  blossomings,  which  no  human  power  can  arrest. 
They  trust  in  the  tardy  but  inevitable  justice  of  posterity. 

If  the  end  of  historical  studies  is,  as  Montaigne  says,  "  to 
converse  with  the  great  minds  of  the  best  ages,"  ^^  this  could 
be  nowhere  better  attained  than  in  surveying  this  epoch 
which  has  been  so  long  sacrificed.  The  most  eloquent  priest 
of  our  times  has  not  caluminated  history,  in  saying  of  her 
that  she  was  "  the  rich  treasury  of  man's  dishonor."  ^^  She 
demonstrates  most  frequently  only  the  triumphs  of  injustice, 
and,  what  is  worse,  the  base  connivance  of  posterity  with 
these  triumphs, and  its  perverse  adulation  of  successful  crime. 
But  notwithstanding,  a  noble  and  consolatory  mission  remains 
to  the  historian  ;  to  protest  against  the  perverse  instincts  of 
the  crowd ;  to  raise  just  but  lost  causes  to  the  appreciation 
of  the  heart ;  to  vindicate  legitimate  resistance,  modest  and 
tried  virtue,  perseverance  unfruitful,  but  steadfast  in  well- 
doing; to  throw  light  upon  forgotten  corners,  where  lan- 
guishes the  betrayed  memory  of  good  men  overcome  ;  to 
batter  down,  or  at  least  to  breach  usurped  glories,  and  wicked 

'*  Montaigne,  Essais,  i.  25. 

'*  Le  P.  Lacordaire,  Panegyrique  du  P  Fowyier. 


INTRODUCTION.  135 

or  corrupt  popularity  ;  but,  above  all,  to  bring  to  liglit  and 
honoi  man  himself,  his  individual  soul,  his  efforts,  his  strength, 
his  vi.i  \ue,  and  his  worth,  and  to  protest  thus  against  the 
odious  oppression  of  those  pretended  general  laws,  which 
serve  an  apologies  for  so  much  crime  and  cowardice.  Is  it 
possible  to  imagine  a  nobler  or  purer  task  for  any  man  who 
is  not  bound  to  the  worship  of  strength  and  success?  And 
where  could  he  fulfil  it  better  than  in  the  inexhaustible  mine 
and  vast  unexplored  regions  of  the  Catholic  ages  ? 

And  moreover,  beyond  all  systematic  and  polemical  re- 
search, the  study  of  history,  especially  in  those  depths  which 
are  at  once  so  obscure  and  so  closely  connected  with  our 
origin,  exercises  upon  every  delicate  mind  an  influence 
deeply  attractive,  and  full  of  melancholy  sweetness.  It  at- 
tracts, enlightens,  and  awakes,  like  the  echo  of  the  songs  of  oui 
youth.  If  it  happens  to  an  old  man  to  listen,  in  the  decline 
of  his  years,  to  a  melody  which  has  charmed  his  childhood,  it 
transports  him,  not  without  profit  to  his  soul,  into  the  midst 
of  the  dreams  and  hopes  of  former  years.  It  restores  to 
him  neither  his  strength  nor  his  youthful  vigor,  but  it  makes 
him  breathe  again  the  breath  of  his  spring-time.  He  lives 
anew  ;  he  is  reanimated  and  retempered  in  his  primitive 
ardor;  and  if  happily  inspired,  he  recalls  all  that  he  has 
learned,  suffered,  and  accomplished ;  he  perceives  his  own 
modest  and  laborious  place  in  the  long  succession  of  his  race  ; 
he  binds  together  the  chain  of  time;  he  understands  his  life, 
and  he  is  resigned.  Before  that  past,  which  opens  to  him 
the  perspective  of  the  future,  he  bows  his  head  with  love  and 
respect,  without  at  any  time  confounding  what  was  only  its 
young  and  fragile  beauty  with  its  essential  virtue  and  undy- 
ing soul. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OF  THE  FORTUNE  OF  THIS  BOOK. 

Vagliami  '1  lungo  studio  e  il  grand'  amore. 

But  now  is  the  time  when  the  enjoyments  which  this  long 
labor  has  brought  me  draw  near  their  end.  *'  When  a  book 
appears,"  says  a  woman  of  genius,  "  what  happy  moments  hag 
it  not  given  to  one  who  writes  according  to  his  heart,  and  aa 


136  THE    MONKS    OF    THE   WEST. 

an  act  of  worship  !  What  sweet  tears  have  fallen  in  his  soli- 
tude upon  the  marvels  it  narrates  !  "  ^  She  was  right ;  and 
without  aspiring  to  the  rank  which  she  has  attained  —  with- 
out venturing,  like  her,  into  the  domain  of  imagination  —  it 
is  possible  to  find  inexhaustible  attractions  in  a  graver  and 
less  brilliant  sphere.  Those  long  and  indefatigable  researches 
through  the  labors  of  others,  in  search  of  a  date,  of  a  fact,  of 
a  name,  of  a  striking  or  speaking  detail ;  those  discoveries 
which  every  author  flatters  himself  that  he  has  been  first  to 
make  or  restore  to  light ;  that  truth  which  he  perceives, 
which  he  seizes,  which  escapes  him,  which  returns,  which  at 
last  he  lays  hold  of,  and  sets  forth  luminous  and  victorious 
forever  ;  those  interviews,  intimate  arid  prolonged,  with  so 
many  great  and  holy  souls  who  come  out  of  the  shadows  of 
the  past  to  reveal  themselves  by  their  acts  or  their  writings  ; 
all  the  pure  and  profound  enjoyments  of  a  conscientious  his- 
torian —  behold  them  finished  ! 

"  Things  won  are  done  :  joy's  soul  lies  in  the  doing." 

They  must  give  place  to  the  trials,  to  the  disappointments, 
to  the  dangers  of  publicity  —  to  the  numerous  chances  of 
malevolence,  indifference,  and  forgetfulness.  Now  rises  a 
melancholy  anticipation  of  the  dangers  which  we  are  about 
to  brave,  of  the  troubles  which  we  have  spontaneously  drawn 
upon  ourselves.  Now  appears  in  all  its  bitterness  the  diffi- 
cult and  thankless  task  of  the  writer  who  loves  his  own  soul 
and  that  of  his  neighbor:  now,  but  too  late,  we  discover  all 
the  good  reasons  we  had  to  be  discouraged,  to  renounce  the 
task  and  hold  our  peace. 

Among  so  many  dangers  there  is  one  which  the  most  in- 
dulgent critic  cannot  fail  to  point  out,  and  which  I  am  con- 
scious not  to  have  avoided  —  that  of  monotony.  Always  the 
same  incidents  and  the  same  motives  !  always  penitence,  re- 
tirement, the  struggle  of  evil  against  good,  of  the  spirit 
against  the  flesh,  of  solitude  against  the  world  —  always 
foundations,  donations,  vocations  —  always  self-devotion,  sac- 
rifice, generosity,  courage,  patience !  The  result  of  this 
wearies  the  pen  of  the  writer,  and,  still  more,  the  attention 
of  the  reader.  Let  us,  however,  remark,  that  the  virtues  so 
frequently  evoked  in  the  following  narratives  are  still  sufli- 
cieiitly  rare  in  the  world,  and  appear  but  too  seldom  before 
the   ordinary  tribunal  of  history.     Here  we   shall  see  them 

'  Madame  dk  Sxakl,  De  I  Allemayne. 


INTRODUCTION.  137 

almost  on  every  page.  They  are,  it  is  true,  accompanied  by 
the  inevitable  train  of  human  inconsislency,  feebleness,  and 
wretchedness ;  but  these  we  encounter,  perhaps,  less  hero 
than  in  any  other  narrative.  I  venture  even  to  affirm  that 
we  shall  see  less  here  than  elsewhere  of  those  triumphs  of 
violence  and  deceit,  of  injustice  and  falsehood  —  thanks  to 
which,  the  annals  of  humanity  are  so  repulsive,  and  the  les- 
sons of  history  so  immoral.  I  may  perhaps  be  led  astray  by 
a  certain  degree  of  self-estimation  ;  but  I  am  fain  to  hope  that 
the  reader  who  is  sufficiently  patient  to  follow  me  to  the  end, 
will  come  forth  from  this  study  with  a  soul  at  once  tranquil- 
lized by  the  sweet  influences  of  the  purest  virtue,  and  stim- 
ulated both  by  the  love  of  all  that  renews  and  exalts  human 
nature,  and  by  aversion  for  everything  which  taints  and 
debases  it. 

However,  I  must  repeat  again,  I  have  never  extenuated 
the  evil  nor  magnified  the  good  which  I  might  find  upon  my 
road :  I  have  sought  to  represent  the  monastic  orders,  and 
the  society  in  which  they  occupied  so  important  a  place,  by 
reproducing  faithfully  the  features  and  the  colors  furnished 
by  contemporary  authors. 

And  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  that  it  is  impossible  to  have 
leen  more  rigidly  scrupulous  in  all  that  concerns  the  cor- 
rectness of  these  researches.  Every  word  which  I  have 
written  has  been  drawn  from  original  and  contemporary 
sources,  and  if  I  have  quoted  facts  or  expressions  from  sec- 
ond-hand authors,  it  has  never  been  without  attentively  veri- 
fying the  original  or  completing  the  text.  A  single  date, 
quotation,  or  note,  apparently  insignificant,  has  often  cost  me 
hours  and  sometimes  days  of  labor.  I  have  never  contented 
myself  with  being  approximatively  right,  nor  resigned  my- 
self to  doubt  until  every  chance  of  arriving  at  certainty  was 
exhausted.  It  is  a  thankless  and  painful  task,  but  one  which 
ends  by  having  a  certain  attraction,  and  becoming  a  habit, 
of  which  it  is  impossible  to  divest  one's  self  '•  Truth,"  says 
a  celebrated  historian  of  our  day — one  who  can  boast  with 
truth  that  his  o.ge  has  read  him  —  "Truth  is  the  object,  the 
duty,  and  even  the  happiness  of  a  true  historian :  when  we 
know  how  noble  she  is,  and  even  how  convenient  —  for  she 
alone  explains  everything — when  we  know  her,  we  seek 
hsr,  we  desire  her,  we  love  her,  we  set  forth  her  image  only, 
or  at  least  something  which  we  take  for  her."^ 

*  M.  Thiers,  Histoire  du  Consulat  et  de  V Empire,  vol.  xvi.  p.  418. 

12* 


138  THE   MONKS    OF    THE    TV^EST. 

1  have  thought  it  a  dnt}",  at  the  risk  of  enlarging  these 
volumes,  and  even  of  making  them  less  accessible  to  the 
general  reader,  to  add  as  notes  the  original  text  of  the  most 
important  passages  of  the  authors  quoted,  and  especially  of 
the  correspondences  embodied  in  my  text.  I  have  acted 
thus,  certainly  not  out  of  ostentation,  or  to  give  myself  credit 
for  an  easy  erudition,  but  by  a  natural  taste  for  exactitude 
and  for  the  uttermost  sincerity.  The  voluminous  works  from 
■  wnich  I  have  personally  extracted  all  these  passages,  and 
which  have  hitherto  been  difficult  of  access,  have  recently 
become  much  less  rare  and  costly.^  I  desired  at  the  same 
time  to  give  examples  of  the  Latin  of  the  middlo  ages  —  that 
idiom,  retempered  and  transfigured,  so  to  speak,  by  Chris- 
tianity, which  retains,  beside  the  inimitable  beauty  of  the 
classic  models,  a  grace  of  its  own.  But  above  all,  I  lacked 
courage  to  reduce  the  magnificent  language  of  our  Catholic 
ancestors  to  the  mean  proportions  of  my  own  feebleness.  1 
have  almost  always  found  my  translation,  however  literal  it 
was,  so  imperfect  and  unfaithful,  that  I  give  it  only  as  a  sort 
of  indication,  to  put  my  readers  upon  the  road,  of  the  beauty 
and  truth  of  the  originals.  I  love  to  believe  that  those  among 
them  who  appreciate  historical  sincerity  will  remember  with 
kindness,  in  the  future,  this  increase  of  labor  and  sacrifice  of 
self-love. 

The  task  of  the  historian,  thus  understood,  resembles  that 
of  the  engraver,  who  lavishes  his  labor,  his  time,  and  his 
eyesight,  and  sometimes  consecrates  ten  or  twenty  years  of 
his  life,  to  reproduce  with  a  religious  scrupulousness  the 
smallest  details  of  the  canvas  of  the  great  painter  whom  his 
admiration  has  chosen.  His  pious  labor  is  devoted  to  spread 
far  and  wide  faithful  copies  of  a  model  which  he  despairs  to 
equal,  and  thus  to  convert  the  treasure,  known  only  to  a  few, 
into  the  patrimony  of  the  many.  His  task  is  often  inter- 
rupted, but  perpetually  returned  to,  until  his  persevering 
graver  has  accomplished  the  cherished  work.  Thus  have  I 
labored,  a  modest  and  diligent  workman,  for  a  glory  which  is 
not  mine.  I  have  attempted  to  raise  a  monument,  not  cer- 
tainly to  my  own  renown,  but  to  that  of  virtue,  truth,  and 

'  Thanks  to  the  Patrologie  publislicd  by  M.  I'Abbe  Migne,  who  lias  repro- 
duced, in  an  easy  and  economical  form,  not  only  the  greater  part  of  the  an- 
cient collections,  but  a  multitude  of  documents  and  authors  almost  entirely 
out  of  reach.  Unhappily  for  me,  most  of  my  researches  were  made  before 
the  publications  of  M.  Migne;  hence  the  many  references  to  editions  which 
are  now,  so  to  speak,  out  of  circulation. 


INTRODUCTION.  .139 

sanctit}',  ot  which  I  am  only  a  distant  aid  unworthy  admirer. 
1  have  hoped,  not  to  create  a  great  work  of  my  own,  but 
simply  to  reproduce  and  multiply  the  image  of  the  great 
deeds  of  our  fathers,  and  to  promote  the  admiration  and  study 
of  their  honor. 

Public  events,  in  which  duty  and  honor  had  assigned  me 
a  part,  have  long  and  often  interrupted  this  work.  When  I 
have  taken  it  up  again,  and  recalled  the  time  in  which  it  was 
begun,  I  am  obliged  to  acknowledge  that  many  changes  have 
taken  place  around,  which  still  more  diminish  the  chances  of 
success,  and  dissipate  all  the  vanity  of  authorship. 

This  work,  which,  published  sooner,  might  perhaps,  like 
the  Histoire  de  Sainte  Elisabeth,  twenty-five  years  ago,  have 
opened  a  new  path  across  the  vast  field  of  Catholic  histor}", 
can  only  pretend  now  to  take  its  place  among  a  series  of  con- 
temporary studies.  The  subject,  then  completely  ignored  or 
forgotten,  has  been  since  approached  by  many.  Although 
no  extensive  view  of  the  entire  field  of  monastic  history  has 
been  attempted,  the  ground  has  been  broken  by  monographs 
sufficiently  numerous  and  detailed,  to  have  already  in  some 
degree  fatigued  the  public  attention,  and  to  deter  the  reader 
from  that  which  he  can  already  look  upon  as  a  beaten  road, 
and  a  landscape  already  too  well  known.  For  the  same  rea- 
son, many  results  attained  by  laborious  researches  are  no 
longer  held  to  be  discoveries,  and  scarcely  arrest  the  gaze 
of  the  curious. 

Besides — and  this  is  still- sadder  and  more  important  — 
the  spirit  of  many  amongst  Catholics  has  changed.  The 
religious  public  has  fallen  a  prey  to  the  domination  of  a 
school  whose  very  existence  would  have  seemed  a  dream 
when  this  work  was  begun,  but  whose  empire  is  sufficiently 
established  to  enable  them  now  to  pronounce  a  kind  of  ostra- 
cism against  all  who  will  not  bow  beneath  their  yoke  in  the 
religious  sphere. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  a  book  which  proclaims  the 
divinity  of  the  Gospel,  and  the  infallible  authority  of  the 
Church,  is  not  likely  to  be  received  as  work  of  any  worth  by 
the  popular  arbiters  of  taste  and  distributors  of  contemporary 
fame.  Discarded  amongst  those  whom  they  call  the  slaves 
of  orthodoxy,  the  author,  in  the  eyes  of  the  most  indulgent 
of  these  authorities,  can  only  be  entitled  to  silent  pity. 

But,  moreover,  it  must  be  known  and  acknowledged  that  a 
book  which  recognizes  the  rights  of  reason,  and  searches  with 
ardor  through  the  past  fur  the  effaced  vestiges  of  liberty  and 


140  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

honor,  to  make  them  cherished  and  regretted  by  modern  gen- 
erations, must  renounce  all  hope  of  success  with  too  great  a 
number  of  those  who  call  themselves  orthodox. 

Twenty  years  ago  all  studies  favorable  to  the  re-establish- 
ment of  Catholic  truth,  especially  in  history,  were  received 
Avith  indulgent  sympathy  by  the  faithful  and  the  clergy.  In 
their  ranks,  in  their  hearts,  we  i'ound  an  assured  asylum 
against  the  disdains  and  derisions  of  our  natural  adversaries, 
and  against  the  absence  of  that  great  public  favor,  which  for 
a  long  time  has  belonged  exclusively  to  productions  hostile 
or  indifferent  to  religion.  Now  it  is  no  longer  thus;  the 
merits  of  the  defienders  of  the  Catholic  cause  are  too  often 
judged  according  to  those  oracles  who  inflict  wilfully,  on  all 
who  reject  their  authority,  the  reproach  of  liberalism,  ration- 
alism, and,  above  all,  of  naturalism. 

I  have  achieved  a  right  to  this  tlireefold  reproach.  1 
should  bo  surprised,  and  even  mortified,  not  to  be  thought 
worthy  of  it,  fori  adore  liberty,  which  alone,  in  my  judgment, 
secures  to  truth  triumphs  worthy  of  her.  I  hold  reason  to  be 
the  grateful  ally  of  faith,  not  her  enslaved  and  humiliated 
victim.  And,  lastl}^  although  animated  by  a  lively  and  sim- 
ple faith  in  the  supernatural,  I  have  recourse  to  it  only  when 
the  Church  ordains,  or  when  all  natural  explanation  fails  to 
interpret  undeniable  facts.  This  will  be  enough  to  call  down 
upon  me  the  anathema  of  our  modern  inquisitors,  whose 
thunders  we  must  know  how  to  brave,  unless,  as  said  Mabil- 
lon  in  an  encounter  with  certain  monastic  denunciators  of 
his  time,  "  unless  we  choose  to  renounce  sincerity,  good  faith, 
and  honor."* 

Thus,  then,  disdained  by  one  party  as  bearing  the  stamp 
of  superstition  and  credulity,  this  book  will  still   be  marked 

*  He  says  furtlier  :  —  "I  know  that  it  is  the  fate  of  all  who  give  anything 
10  the  public,  and  especially  of  those  who  treat  of  history,  to  expose  them- 
selves to  the  censure  of  men,  and  to  draw  upon  themselves  the  anger  of 
many.  .  .  .  Indeed,  whatever  part  we  take,  or  however  carefully  we  may '•em- 
ulate our  design,  it  is  impossible  to  content  all  the  world.  If  we  receive 
everything  without  discussion,  we  are  ridiculed  by  judicious  persons;  and  if 
we  examine  everything  with  exactness  and  discernment,  we  are  called  rash 
and  presumptuous  by  others ;  Si  quid  simpliciter  edamiis,  insani ;  si  quid 
exacte,  vocamur  ■prcBsv.mptv osi.  Of  these  two  methods  I  have  chosen  the 
second,  as  being  most  conformed  to  that  love  of  truth  which  a  Cliristian,  a 
monk,  and  a  priest,  ought  to  possess,  as  well  as  most  advantageous  to  the 
honor  of  the  order;  and,  in  short,  as  being  absolutely  necessary  in  an  enlight- 
ened age  like  ours,  whicli  permits  us  neither  to  write  fables,  nor  to  advance 
anything  of  which  there  is  not  suiHcient  proof."  —  Reponse  au  Pere  Bastide ; 
quoted  by  M.  Dantiee  in  his  Rapports  sur  la  Correspondance  Inediti  dei 
Btnedidins  de  St.  Maur,     1857. 


INTRODUCTION.  141 

out  by  the  other  as  "  written  in  a  spirit  of  complacency 
towards  the  present  times."  For  this  is  the  language 
used  against  such  as  nie.^  It  will  stand  ignored,  and  still 
more  certainly  unknown,  between  two  kinds  of  enmities. 
I  am  grieved  at  the  thought,,  but  not  afiaid.  I  consent  will- 
ingly to  be  treated  as  a  suspected  person  on  the  one  hand, 
and  as  a  fanatic  on  the  other.  It  is  the  fate  of  him  who  be- 
longs to  no  party,  and  no  party  has  a  claim  upon  me.  I  owe 
nothing  to  any  man.  1  no  longer  aspire  to  anything,  unless 
to  tlie  iueifable  joy  of  confessing  the  good  cause,  and  braving 
the  wretched  triumphs  of  falsehood  and  baseness.  The  yoke 
of  truth  1  bear  with  pride,  and  have  never  known  any  other. 

But  I  would  not  only  confess,  I  would  fain  also  serve 
this  truth;  and  it  is  in  this  respect  that  I  fear  to  have  be- 
trayed it. 

In  terminating  this  first  foundation  of  an  edifice  which  has 
consumed  many  years  of  assiduous  labor,  I  feel  myself  con- 
founded and  humiliated  by  the  worthlessness  of  my  work 
compared  to  the  labor  which  it  has  cost  me,  and,  above  all,  to 
the  ideal  which  I  had  formed.  The  consciousness  of  a  double 
weakness  seizes  and  overpowers  me.  I  feel  myself  beneath 
my  task,  both  in  soul  and  talent.  Of  these  two  inferiorities, 
the  first  is  doubtless  the  most  poignant  and  painful.  Others 
much  less  unworthy  than  myself  have  confessed  it  with 
trembling,  in  proportion  as  they  entered  into  the  annals  of 
the  monks  and  saints.  The  illustrious  Mabillon,  in  complet- 
ing one  of  his  incomparable  volumes,  said,  in  terms  which  I 
must  quote  for  my  own  confusion,  "  May  it  please  God  not  tc 
impute  it  to  me  as  a  crime  that  I  have  passed  so  many  yearf 
studying  the  acts  of  the  saints,  and  yet  resemble  them  sg 
little  !  "  ^  The  great  apostle  had  already  expressed  that  hum- 
ble distrust  of  himself  in  the  memorable  text :  ''  Lest  that  b}'' 
any  means,  when  1  have  preached  to  others,  1  myself  should 
be  a  castaway."  ">  And  the  psalmist  seems  to  address  to  us 
specially  that  formidable  warning  :  ''  Unto  the  wicked  God 
saith,  What  hast  thou  to  do  to  declare  my  statutes,  or  that 
thou  shouldest  take  my  covenant  in  thy  mouth  ?  "  *     "  Whoso- 

*  This  alludes  to  the  twenty-four  articles  of  theological  criticism  published 
in  the  Univers  by  Dom  Gueranger,  Abbot  of  Solesmes,  against  Prince  Albert 
de  liroglie's  book,  The  Church  and  the  Empire  in  the  Fourth  Century.  — 
Translator. 

*  "  Utinam  et  mihi  non  in  culpani  vertat,  quod  per  tot  annos  in  actis  sanc- 
torum occupatus,  tam  longe  alisim  ab  eorum  exemplis."  —  Prcef.  in  V.  sae 
B'^ned.,  n.  138. 

"  1  Cor.  ix.  27.  ®  Psalm  1.  16. 


142  THE   MONKS    OF   THE    WEST. 

ever,"  says  St.  John  Chrysostom,  "  admires  with  love  Um 
merits  of  the  saints,  and  exalts  the  glory  of  the  just,  ought  to 
imitate  their  uprightness  and  sanctity.  .  .  .  We  ought  to 
imitate  them  if  we  praise  them,  or  cease  to  praise  them  if  we 
scorn  to  imitate."^ 

To  quote  these  formidable  words,  which  bear  witness 
against  me,  is  enough,  or  more  than  enough,  to  show  that  a 
deep  sense  of  my  insufficienc}'"  is  not  w^anting.  Happily 
there  are  authorities  whose  indulgence  is  more  encouraging. 
."  It  is,"  says  St.  Jerome,  "  a  kind  of  candid  and  ingenuous 
confession  to  praise  in  others  that  which  isawanting  in  one's 
self."  ^^  And  do  I  need  to  protest  besides  that  1  have  never 
pretended  to  write  a  work  of  edification,  nor  believed  myself 
authorized  to  give  to  others  lessons  of  penitence  or  sacrifice, 
of  which  I  had  but  too  much  need  for  myself?  So  arrogant 
a  thought  has  never  glanced  upon  my  soul:  a  just  conviction 
of  my  own  inferiority  was  enough  to  recall  to  me  that  such 
was  neither  my  right  nor  my  mission. 

A  simple  child  of  the  Church,  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  either 
her  organ  or  her  minister ;  and  much  more  justly  than  Ma- 
billon  1  ought  to  reproach  myself  in  relating  these  marvels 
of  Christian  virtue,  that  I  know  so  well  how  to  admire  them, 
and  so  little  how  to  imitate. 

But  on  a  lower  level  than  these  heights,  and  without  any 
other  title  than  that  of  a  sinner  who  has  not  denied  his  faith, 
without  any  other  pretension  than  that  of  rendering  a  distant 
and  humble  homage  to  truth,  may  not  we  be  permitted,  even 
with  an  infirm  hand,  and  colors  tarnished  by  the  breath  of 
the  world,  to  trace  the  image  of  th^it  which  we  venerate  and 
love  ?  The  painter  who  attempts  to  reproduce  the  ideal  of 
beaut}'  does  not  pretend  to  resemble  his  model ;  and  no  one 
reproaches  him  with  that  impotence.  The  Church  accepts 
graciously,  and  even  permits  to  be  offered  in  her  name  to  the 
faithful,  images  often  coarse  and  rustic,  without  demanding 
too  much  of  the  artist,  and  on  the  sole  condition  that  his  de- 
sign does  not  injure  the  majesty  of  the  symbol.  She  allows 
him  to  share  thus  in  the  blessing  which  descends  upon  all 
acts  of  goodwill.  She  also  allows  the  obscure  Christian,  who 
walks  in  the  splendid  processions  of  her  worship,  lost  among 
the  crowd,  and  is  neither  pontiff  nor  priest,  nor  even  a  mod- 

*  St.  John  Chrysost.,  Serm.  de  Martyrihiis,  quod  aut  imitandi  sunt,  aut 
non  laudandi. 

'"  "  Ingenua  et  verecunda  confcssio  est  quo  ipse  careas  id  in  aliis  praedi 
care."  —  Letters,  vol.  ii.  p.  108,  edition  Collombet. 


INTRODUCTION.  143 

est  acolyte  cltart»:ed  with  the  censer  or  candlestick,  to  join 
his  sincere  voice  to  the  concerts  of  the  sacred  ministers,  and 
to  sing;  without  pride,  but  without  fear,  the  praises  of  the 
Most  Hio-h. 

Should  I  speak,  finally,  of  my  literary  insufficiency  to  this 
colossal  tnsk  which  T  have  had  the  temerity  to  undertake? 
No  one  can  be  more  convinced  of  it  than  I  am.  After  the 
liisttiry  of  the  Church  herself,  there  is  no  vaster  or  more  noble 
siiliject  than  the  histor}  of  the  monastic  orders.  I  feel  a 
molaiicholy  certainty  tliat  T  have  not  done  it  justice.  Let 
others  arise,  then,  to  replace  and  eiface  me  ;  let  their  better- 
inspired  labors  restore  to  chaos  this  incomplete  essay. 

1  will  not  venture  to  say  with  the  prophet:  ••  Oh  that  my 
words  were  now  written  !  oh  that  thev  were  printed  in  a 
book  !  that  they  were  graven  with  an  iron  pen  and  lead  in 
the  rock  for  ever!  "  ^^  Alas  !  I  am  too  sensible  that  I  have 
not  received  that  sublime  gift  of  genius,  that  pen  that  graves, 
not  on  the  rock,  but  even  on  the  hardest  hearts,  the  inefface- 
able stamp  of  truth.  My  only  merit  will  be  that  of  compil- 
ings of  translating,  and  of  transcribing  events  which  so  many 
saints  and  heroes  have  inspired  and  accomplished. 

There  is,  however,  a  thought  which  ought  to  warm  the 
courage  and  restore  the  strength  of  the  humblest  soldier  of 
the  faith  :  it  is  the  recollection  of  the  immense  evil  done  to 
humanity,  not  only  by  the  genius  of  the  great  enemies  of 
God,  but  by  that  cloud  of  obscure  scribes,  of  vulgar  and  ser- 
vile copyists,  who  have  distilled  in  detail  the  venom  of  their 
masters,  and  have  diffused  it  through  all  the  lesser  veins  of 
the  social  body.  In  sight  of  the  daily-increasing  mischief 
they  make,  one  can  understand  how  it  might  be  a  legitim-ate 
ambition  and  honorable  duty  to  become  the  scribe  of  juseice 
and  the  copyist  of  truth. 

Even  in  these  modest  limits,  how  often  have  I  felt  that  1 
had  undertaken  a  work  above  my  strength !  How  often 
have  1  been  tempted  to  renounce  this  excessive  task,  and  to 
fly  from  that  abyss  wdiich  seemed  ready  to  swallow  up  the 
passing  and  shortened  years  of  life,  an  exhausted  patience, 
and  worn-out  strength  ! 

But  how  often  also,  in  the  silence  of  night,  under  the  roof 
of  the  old  manor-house  in  which  most  of  these  pages  have 
been  written,  behind  the  heavy  folios  in  which  their  acts 
have  been  registered  by  their  laborious  successors,  have  1 
imagined  myself  to  see,  appearing  around  me,  that  imposing 

"  Job  xix.  23,  21. 


144  THE    MONKS    OF    THE    WEST. 

train  of  saints,  pontiffs,  doctors,  missionaries,  artisfs.  masters 
of  word  and  deed,  who  have  issued,  from  age  to  age,  out  of 
the  crowded  ranks  of  the  monastic  orders.  I  contemplated 
with  trembHng  these  august  resuscitated  forms  of  the  glori 
ous  and  unappreciated  Past.  Their  austere  yet  benevolent, 
looks  seemed  to  stray  over  their  profaned  tombs,  their  for- 
gotten works,  the  despised  monuments  of  their  unwearied 
industry,  the  defaced  sites  of  their  holy  dwellings,  and  then 
to  rest  upon  me,  their  unworthy  annalist,  confused  and  over- 
whelmed by  the  weight  of  my  unworthiness.  I  heard  a 
voice,  noble  and  plaintive,  come  forth  from  their  chaste  and 
masculine  breasts  :  "  So  many  incessant  labors,  so  many  evils 
endured,  so  many  services  rendered,  so  many  lives  con- 
sumed for  the  glory  of  God,  and  for  the  good  of  men!  and 
behold  the  return  —  calumny,  ingratitude,  proscription,  con- 
tempt I  In  these  modern  generations,  which  are  at  once 
overwhelmed  by  our  benefits  and  oblivious  of  them,  will  no 
man  rise  up  to  avenge  our  memory  ? 

*  Exoriare  aliquis  nostris  ex  ossibus  ultor ! ' 

No  apology,  no  panegyric;  a  simple  and  exact  tale  —  the 
truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth  —  justice,  nothing  but  jus- 
tice, —  let  that  be  our  sole  revenge  !  " 

And  then  I  felt  a  thrill  of  ardent  and  melancholy  emotion 
run  through  my  veins.  "  I  am  but  a  creature  of  dust,"  I 
answer  them,  "  but  that  dust  may  perhaps  be  animated  by 
contact  with  your  sacred  bones.  Perhaps  a  spark  of  your 
fire  may  come  to  light  up  ray  soul.  I  have  only  a  cold  and 
sad  pen  for  my  weapon,  and  I  am  the  first  of  my  blood  who 
has  fought  with  the  pen  alone.  But,  notwithstanding,  if  it 
series  with  honor,  it  may  in  its  turn  become  a  sword,  in 
the  bold  and  holy  warfare  of  conscience  and  the  disarmed 
majesty  of  right,  against  the  triumphant  oppression  of  false- 
bood  and  sin. 

La  Roche-en-Bhent,  January,  1860. 


BOOK  I. 

THE  ROMAN  EMPIRE  AFTER  THE  PEACE  OF  THE  CHUSCH. 


SUMMARY. 

The  Roman  Empire,  converted  to  Christianity,  offers  a  more  sad  and  sui> 
prising  spectacle  than  under  the  Pagan  Caesars.  —  The  alliance  of  tlie 
priesthood  and  the  Empire  hinders  neither  the  ruin  of  the  State  nor  the 
servitude  of  the  Church.  —  The  Fathers  of  the  Church  unanimously  ac- 
knowledge the  precocious  decay  of  the  Christian  world.  —  Action  of  the 
imperial  power  on  the  Church.  —  Personal  intervention  of  the  Emperors  in 
theology ;  every  heresiarch  finds  an  auxiliary  upon  the  throne ;  persecu- 
tions and  oppressions  more  cruel  than  before  Constantine.  —  The  divinity 
of  the  prince  still  proclaimed  under  Theodosius.  —  Civil  society,  Christian 
by  name,  remains  subject  at  heart  to  Paganism  in  its  most  degenerate 
form.  —  Uncurbed  despotism  of  the  Emperors  ;  tortures  of  taxation.  —  Uni- 
versal destruction  in  the  East;  universal  confusion  in  the  West. — Mili- 
tary degradation ;  moral  abjectness  ;  derisive  equality  of  the  Roman  Citi- 
zens;  social  impotence  of  the  Roman  laws.  —  Virtue  and  freedom  are 
only  found  in  the  Church,  who  would  not  resign  herself  to  the  impotence 
of  civil  society,  but  did  not  succeed  in  transforming  the  old  imperial  world. 
—  In  order  to  preserve  the  whole  of  Christendom  from  the  fate  of  the 
Lower  Empire,  two  invasions  were  necessary,  that  of  the  Barbarians  and 
that  of  the  Monks. 


Ea  nobis  erepta  sunt  quae  hominibus  non  minus  quam  liberi  cara  snnt, 
libertas,  honestas,  dignitas.  —  Cicero,  Epist.  ad  Fam.,  iv.  5. 

Our  belly  cleaveth  unto  the  earth :  arise  for  our  help,  and  redeem  ns 
*  for  thy  mercy's  sake.  —  Psalm  xllv.  25,  26. 

Ttte  Roman  people,  victorious  over  aU  nations,  and  mas- 
ters of  the  world,  yet  enslaved  during  three  centuries  by  a 
series  of  monsters  or  madmen,  scarcely  interrupted  by  some 
endurable  princes,  exhibits  in  history  the  greatest  wonder 
of  the  debasement  and  downfall  of  man.  The  peace  of  the 
Church,  proclaimed  by  Constantine  in  312,  was,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  prodigy  of  the  power  and  goodness  of  God.     The 

TOL.  I.  13  145 


146  THE    ROMAN    EMPIRE 

Empire,  vanquished  by  an  unarmed  crowd,  laid  down  its 
arms  before  the  Galilean ;  persecution,  after  a  crowning  par- 
oxysm, the  most  cruel  of  all,  gave  place  to  protection ; 
humanity  breathed  again ;  and  truth,  sealed  by  the  blood  of 
so  many  thousand  martyrs,  after  having  been  sealed  by  the 
blood  of  God  made  man,  could  henceforth  take  freely  her 
victorious  flight  to  the  ends  of  the  earth. 

However,  there  is  a  wonder  still  greater :  it  is  the  rapid 
increasino-  ^^^  permanent  decay  of  the  Roman  world  after  the 
thrFi?/"  psace  of  the  Church.  Yes,  if  there  is  nothing  more 
after  Con-  abjcct  in  the  anuals  of  cruelty  and  corruption  than 
etantine.  ^^^  Roman  empire  from  Augustus  to  Diocletian, 
there  is  something  more  susprising  and  sadder  still  —  the 
Roman  empire  after  it  became  Christian. 

How  came  it  that  Christianity,  drawn  from  the  catacombs 
to  be  placed  on  the  throne  of  the  Ceesars,  was  not  able  to 
regenerate  souls,  in  temporal  matters  as  well  as  in  spiritual, 
to  restore  to  authority  its  prestige,  to  the  citizen  his  dignity, 
to  Rome  her  grandeur,  and  to  civilized  Europe  the  strength 
to  live  and  defend  herself?  Why  did  the  imperial  power, 
when  reconciled  to  the  Church,  fall  more  and  more  into  con- 
tempt and  impotence  ?  How  is  it  that  the  memorable  alli- 
ance of  the  priesthood  with  the  Empire,  hindered  neither 
the  ruin  of  the  State  nor  the  servitude  and  mutilation  of  the 
Church  ? 

Never  had  there  been  a  revolution  more  complete  ;  for  it 
was  not  only  her  own  emancipation  which  the  Church  cele- 
brated in  seeing  Constantine  adopt  the  cross  for  his  standard, 
it  was  an  intimate  and  complete  alliance  between  the  cross 
and  the  imperial  sceptre.  The  Christian  religion  had  scarcely 
ceased  to  be  proscribed,  when  already  she  was  patronized, 
and  then  dominant.  The  successor  of  Nero  and  Decius 
seated  himself  at  the  first  general  council,  and  received  the 
title  of  Defender  of  the  Sacred  Canons.  The  Roman  repub- 
lic and  the  Christian  republic  joined  their  hands,  so  to  speak, 
in  that  of  Constantine.  Sole  head,  sole  judge,*sole  legislator 
of  the  universe,  he  consented  to  take  bishops  for  his  coun- 
sellors, and  to  give  tlie  force  of  law  to  their  decrees.  The 
world  had  one  monarch ;  the  monarch  was  absolute  :  no  man 
dreamed  of  disputing  or  limiting  a  power  which  the  Church 
bleseed,  and  which  glorified  itself  by  protecting  her. 

This  ideal,  so  dear  to  many  minds,  of  a  man  before  whom 
all  men  prostrated  themselves,  and  who,  master  of  all  these 
slaves,    bowed    down    in    his   turn     before    God,   was  thus 


AFTER   THE    PEACE    OF    THE   CHURCH.  147 

seen  find  realized.  Such  a  state  of  things  lasted  for  two  or 
three  centuries,  during  which  time  everything  fell  to  pieces 
in  the  empire  :  and  the  Chnrch  has  never  known  a  period  in 
which  she  was  more  tormented,  more  agitated,  or  more  com- 
promised. 

Whileimpcrial  Romesank  into  degradation,^  the  Church  had 
led  the  greatest  and  most  noble  life,  not  only,  as  we  picture 
to  ourselves  too  much,  in  the  depths  of  the  catacombs,  but 
striving  heroically  and  in  full  da}'',  by  suffering  and  argu- 
ments, by  eloquence  and  by  courage,  by  her  councils ^  and 
schools,  by  her  martj'rs  first  and  above  all,  but  also  by 
her  great  apologists,  such  as  St.  Irenseus,  St.  Justin.  St. 
Cyprian,  Athenagoras,  Clement  of  Alexandria,  Tertullian, 
Origen,  and  Lactantius,  who  at  once  renewed  and  purified 
Greek  and  Latin  eloquence.  War  had  succeeded  so  well  with 
her  that  when  she  was  offered  peace,  she  already  filled  all 
the  earth.^ 

But  after  having  held  out  so  gloriously  through  a  pifl,p„it 
battle  of  three  centuries,  what  means  could  she  position  of 
take  for  resisting  the  influence  of  victory?  How 
maintain  her  triumph  at  the  height  of  her  combats  ?  How 
escape  succumbing,  as  all  victors  here  below  succumb,  to 
pride  and  the  intoxication  of  success?  For  the  vigilant  and 
fertile  education  of  warflire,  for  the  holy  joys  of  porsecu- 
tion,  for  the  dignity  of  permanent  and  avowed  danger,  an 
entirely  new  condition  was  substituted,  and  upon  ground  full 
of  another  description  of  difficulties.  Associated  henceforth 
with  the  same  imperial  power  which  had  in  vain  essayed 
to  destroy  her,  she  became  in  some  degree  responssible  for 
a  society  enervated  by  three  centuries  of  servitude,  and 
gangrened  by  all  the  refinements  of  corruption.  It  was  not 
enough  for  her  to  govern  the  ancient  world, —  she  had 
still  to  transform  and  replace  it. 

It  was  a  formidable  task,  but  not  above  her  power.     God 

'  "  The  Egj'ptian,  prostrated  before  the  beasts  of  the  Nile,  outrages  hu- 
manity less  than  the  age  of  the  Antonines,  v^rith  its  philosophers  and  its  juris- 
consuhs  rendering  divine  honors  to  the  Emperor  Commodus." — Ozanam, 
La  Civilisation  Cliretienne  au  Cinquieme  Steele,  t.  i.  p.  113.  "We  shall  be 
pardoned  for  quoting  incessantly  tiie  admirable  works  of  this  young  writer, 
who  was  at  once  so  perfect  a  Christian,  so  excellent  a  writer,  so  eloquent  and 
sympathetic  an  onitor,  and  whose  premature  death  is  one  of  the  greatest  mis- 
fortunes that  religion  and  literature  have  had  to  deplore  in  our  days. 

■■'  The  collection  of  P.  Labbe  counts  sixty-two  of  these  previous  to  the 
peace  of  the  Church. 

*  *'  At  this  time,  the  Church,  still  newly-born,  filled  all  the  earth."  —  Bos 
SUET,  Discours  sur  V Ilistoire  Universelle, 


148  THE    ROMAN    EMPIRE 

chose  that  very  moment  to  senri  to  His  Church  a  cloud  of 
paints,  of  pontiffs,  of  doctors,  of  orators,  and  of  writers. 
They  formed  that  constellation  of  Christian  genius  Avhich, 
under  the  name  of  Fathers  of  the  Church,  have  attained  the 
liighest  place  in  the  veneration  of  all  ages,  and  forced  respect 
even  from  the  most  sceptical.  They  lighted  up  the  East 
and  the  West  with  the  radiance  of  all  that  was  true  and 
beautiful.  They  lavished  in  the  service  of  truth  an  ardor, 
an  eloquence,  and  a  knowledge,  which  nothing  has  ever  sur- 
passed. A  hundred  years  after  the  peace  of  the  Church, 
they  had  covered  the  world  with  good  Avorks  and  admirable 
writings,  created  a  refuge  for  every  grief,  a  guar<h'anship  for 
every  weakness,  a  patrimony  for  every  distress,  lessons  and 
examples  for  every  truth  and  every  virtue. 

And  still  they  did  not  succeed  in  forming  a  new  society, 
in  transforming  the  pagan  world.  By  their  own  confession, 
they  fell  short  of  their  task. 

Corruption  That  loug  cry  of  grief  which  echoes  through  all 
Christian  the  pagos  which  Christian  saints  and  writers  have 
people.  ]eft  iq  yc,^  strikes  us  at  once  with  an  intensity  which 
has  never  been  surpassed  in  the  succession  of  time.  They 
felt  themselves  attacked  and  swallowed  up  by  pagan  corrup- 
tion. Listen  to  Jerome,  Chrysostom,  Augustine,  Salvien 
especiall}'-  —  listen  to  them  all!  They  denounced  the  pre- 
cocious decay  and  disgraceful  downfall  of  the  Christian  peo- 
ple, who  had  become  a  prey  to  vice.^  They  saw  with  despair 
the  majority  of  the  faithful  precipitate  themselves  into  the 
voluptuousness  of  paganism.  The  frightful  taste  for  bloody 
or  obscene  spectacles,  for  the  games  of  the  circus,  the  com- 
bats of  the  gladiators,  all  the  shameful  frivolities,  all  the 
prostitutions  of  persecuting  Rome,  came  to  assail  the  new 
converts,  and  to  subjugate  the  sons  of  the  martyrs.  But  a 
little,  and  anew  Juvenal  might  have  snng  the  defeat  of  those 
who  had  reconquered  the  world  for  God,  and  the  vengeance 
executed  by  the  genius  of  evil  upon  its  victors  :  — 

"  Victumque  ulciseitur  orbeni." 

However  great  a  margin  we  may  leave  for  exaggeration 
in  these  unanimous  complaints,  thoy  prove  not  less  certainly 
that  the  political  victory  of  Christianity,  far  from  having 
assured  the  definite  triumph  of  Christian  principles  in  the 

*  "  Quam  dissimilis  est  nunc  a  se  ipso  populus  Cliristianus,  id  est,  ab  eo 
quod  fuit  quondam !  .  .  .  Quid  est  aliud  paene  omnis  coetus  Christianorum 
|uam  sentina  vitiorum  ?  "  —  Salvien,  De  Gabernatione  Dei. 


AFTER   THE    PEACE    OF    THE    CHURCH,  U9 

world,  had   provoked  a  revival  of  all   the  vices  which  the 
Christian  faith  ought  to  have  annihilated. 

But  paganism  retained  and  renewed  its  empire   Action  of 
much  more  than  in  merely  private  and  domestic  life,  imperial 

.  /.      I  •        power 

by  the  nature  and  action  of  the  temporal  power  in  upon  the 
the  midst  of  the  Church.  No  sympton  of  that  trans- 
formation to  which  the  idea  and  exercise  of  power  should 
one  day  yield  amongst  Christian  nations,  appeared  here. 
Constantine  and  his  successors  were  baptized:  but  not  the 
empire  nor  the  imperial  power.  The  hand  which  opened  to 
Christians  the  gate  of  power  and  favor,  was  the  same  which 
had  laid  ambushes  for  them,  in  which  any  other  than  the 
immortal  spouse  of  Christ  must  have  perished  without  hope 
or  honor.  The  emperors  aspired  to  become  the  masters  and 
oracles  of  that  religion  of  which  they  ought  only  to  have  been 
the  children,  or  at  most  the  ministers.  Scarcely  had  tliey 
recognized  her  right  to  exist,  when  they  believed  themselves 
invested  with  the  right  of  governing  her.  The  baptized  of 
the  evening  expected  to  be  the  pontiffs  and  doctors  of  the 
following  day.  Not  being  able  to  succeed  in  that,  they  began 
to  persecute  her  oh  account  of  Arius,  as  their  predecessors 
had  done  on  account  of  Jupiter  and  Venus. 

Constantine  himself,  the  liberator  ol'  the  Church,  the  lay 
president  of  the  Council  of  Nictea,  was  soon  tired  of  the  lib- 
erty and  increasing  authority  of  the  new  freemen.  Won  by 
the  ecclesiastical  courtiers,  who  already  surrounded  his 
throne,  he  exiled  St.  Athanasius,  the  most  noble  and  pure  of 
Christians.  It  was  even  worse  under  his  successors.  Let 
us  hear  Bossuet  on  this  subject:  "The  Emperor  Theem 

/^  •  1   •  !/•      ■     i  1        I  1       (•   j^i         4     •  peror's  por- 

Constantius  put  himselt  at  the  head  ot  the  Arians,  secutois. 
and  cruelly  persecuted  the  Catholics.  .  .  .  This  persecution 
was  regarded  as  more  cruel  than  that  of  Decius  and  Max- 
iminus,  and,  in  a  word,  as  a  prelude  to  that  of  Antichrist.  .  .  . 
Valens,  emperor  of  the  East,  an  Arian  like  Constantius,  was 
a  still  more  violent  persecutor,  and  it  is  he  of  whom  it  was 
said  that  he  seemed  to  soften  when  he  changed  the  penalty 
of  death  into  that  of  banishment ! '-  ^ 

But  more  dangerous  even  than  persecution  was  the  inva- 
sion of  politics  into  the  Church.  When,  after  forty  years  of 
disputes,  Constantius  imposed  on  the  East  and  West  the 
equivocal  formulary  of  the  Council  of  Rimini,  the  world,  ac- 
cording to  the  celebrated  expression  of  St.  Jerome,  groaned 

*  Bossuet,  Cinquieme  Avertissement  aux  Protestants,  c.  18. 

13* 


150  THE    ROMAN   EMPIRE 

and  was  astonished  to  find  itself  Arian,^  thanks  to  the  servile 
conduct  of  an  Episcopacy  which  permitted  itself  to  be  led 
and  frightened  by  the  eunuchs  of  the  imperial  palace. 

The  trial  must  have  been  cruel,  for  then  occurred  what 
never  happened  before,  and  has  rarely  been  seen  since  —  a 
jiope  gave  way  to  its  pressure.  Liberius,  according  to  the 
fioramon  opinion,  yielded,  after  a  noble  resistance,  to  the  tor- 
ments of  exile :  he  sacrificed,  not  the  truth  itself,  but  the 
intrepid  defender  of  the  truth,  Athanasius.  He  recovered 
himself,  and  pledged  the  infallible  authority  of  his  See  to  no 
error;  he  only  compromised  the  fame  of  his  persecutors." 
But  at  his  name  we  see  a  shadow  and  cloud  glide  across  that 
column  of  light  which  guides  the  observations  of  every 
Catholic  when  he  plunges  into  the  obscurities  of  history. 

Violence,  exiles,  and  massacres,  recommenced  in  the  fifth 
century,  and  were  prolonged  from  generation  to  generation. 
Every  heresiarch  found  an  auxihary  on  the  imperial  throne ; 
after  Arius,  Nestorius ;  after  Nestorius,  Eutyclius  ;  and  thus 
we  proceed  from  persecution  to  persecution,  until  we  reach 
the  bloody  oppression  of  the  iconoclast  emperors,  after  which 
nothing  could  follow  but  that  crowning  schism,  which  sep- 
arated forever  the  free  and  orthodox  West  from  the  East, 
which  remained  prostrate  beneath  the  double  yoke  of  error 
and  force. 

But  what  evils  and  bitterness  existed  during  these  long 
and  dark  centuries,  and  before  that  final  rupture  !  They  were 
no  longer  pagans,  but  Christians  who  persecuted  Christianity. 
It  was  no  longer  from  a  praetorium  or  circus  that  the  empe- 
ror, a  personification  of  implacable  ancient  Rome,  sent  the 
Christians  to  the  wild  beasts;  it  was  in  the  midst  of  Councils, 
and  in  the  name  of  a  fictitious  orthodoxy,  that  he  deliberated 
his  sentences,  marked  with  the  triple  stamp  of  chicaner}', 
falsehood,  and  cruelty.  Before  coming  the  length  of  exile 
and  execution,  conscience  and  intelligence  were  tortured  by 
their  formulas  and  definitions. 

Andhete-  The  fiucst  gonius  and  most  noble  spirits  of  that 

iot,M:ms.        age,  which  was  so  fruitful  in  great  men,  exhausted 
themselves  in  vain  in  reasoning  with  these  crowned  casuists, 

*  '*  In^emuit  totus  orbis  et  Arianum  miratus  est  se  esse."  —  Dial,  adv. 
Lv€..  e.  ii). 

^  Fleury,  Histoire  EccUsiastique,  liv.  xvi.  c.  46.  Compare  Count  de 
Maistke  (Z>m  Pape.  book  i.  c.  15),  wlio  re(;alls  the  noble  expression  of  St. 
Aihanasius,  speakinif  of  tlie  poiuitioal  weakness  of  which  he  had  been  a  vic- 
tim :  "■  Violence  proves  tlie  will  of  the  man  who  causes  trembling,  but  not 
Jhat  ot  the  man  wlio  tremblfS." —  Hist.  Arian.  ad  Alonachos,  c.  41. 


AFTER    THE    PEACE    OF    THE    CUUllCII.  151 

who  dogmatized  instead  of  reigning,  and  sacrificed  in  miser- 
able quarrels  the  majesty  of"  the  Church  and  the  security  of 
the  State.  Exile  itself  must  have  been  a  solace  to  these  holy 
confessors,  obliged  to  argue  respectfully  with  such  antago- 
nists. While  the  empire  fell  into  decay,  and  the  avenging 
nations  entered  on  all  sides  by  the  breach,  these  pitiful 
autocrats,  already  masters  of  a  clergy  which  vied  in  servility 
with  the  eunuchs  of  the  imperial  antechamber,  wrote  books 
of  theology,  arranged  formulas,  fabricated  and  condemned 
heresies  in  confes.sions  of  faith  which  were  themselves  heret- 
ical.3  And  as  if  these  crowned  theologians  were  not  enougli, 
the  empresses  too  must  needs  interfere  in  their  turn  to 
govern  consciences,  define  dogmas,  and  persuade  bishops. 
We  see  an  Ambrose  involved  in  contention  with  a  Justina, 
and  a  Chrysostom  the  victim  of  the  follies  of  an  Eudoxia. 
Nothing  was  too  insane  or  too  contemptible  for  this  wretched 
government. 

The  example  of  Theodosius  may  be  quoted  against  us  ; 
but  what  a  crimson  light  is  thrown  upon  the  condition  of 
that  pretended  Christian  empire  by  the  celebrated  penitence 
which  did  so  much  honor  to  the  great  Theodosius  and  to  St. 
Ambrose  !  What  a  society  must  that  have  been  in  which 
the  massacre  of  a  whole  town  could  be  decreed  in  cold  blood, 
to  avenge  the  injury  done  to  a  statue  !  What  a  tale  is  that 
of.  the  torments  and  sufferings  inflicted  upon  the  inhabitants 
of  Antioch  before  the  intervention  of  the  bisliop  Flavian  had 
appeased  the  imperial  wrath !  The  horror  of  such  a  rule, 
had  it  lasted,  must  have  stained  for  ever  the  Christianit}'  it 
affected  to  adorn.  And  besides,  for  one  Theodosius,  how 
many  were  there  like  Valens,  Honorius,  and  Copronj^mus  ! 
The  frightful  temptation  of  possessing  omnipotence,  turned 
all  these  poor  heads.  The  Christian  princes  were  no  stronger 
to  resist  it  than  the  pagans.  To  monsters  of  cruelty  and 
luxury,  such  as  Heliogabalus  and  Maximinus,  succeeded 
prodigies  of  imbecility  and  inconsistency. 

The  bitterest  element  for  the  Church  in  all  this,  must  have 
been  the  pretence  of  those  melancholy  masters  cf  the  world 
to  serve  and  favor  her.  She  had  to  pay  very  dbar  for  the 
material  support  lavislied  upon  ht^r  by  the  imperial  power, 
which  protected  without  honoring  and  even  without  under- 
standing her.     Every  decree  made   in  favor  of  Christianity 

®  Such  were  the  Henoticum  of  the  Emperor  Zenon,  in  482.  condemned  bj 
Pope  Felix  III. ;  the  Ecthesis  of  Heraclius,  condemned  by  Pope  John  IV. 
and  the  Type  of  Constautine  II.,  condemned  by  the  Pope  St.  Martin. 


152  THE   ROMAN   EMPIRE 

■ — to  close  the  temples,  to  interdict  the  sacrifices  of  tho 
ancient  worship,  to  repress  or  root  out  the  last  remains  of 
paganism  —  was  accompanied  or  followed  by  some  act  in- 
tended to  affect  questions  of  dogma,  of  discipline,  or  of  eccle- 
siastical government.  A  law  of  Theodosius  TI.  sentenced 
heretics  to  a  penal  servitude  in  the  mines,  and  he  was  himself 
an  Eutychian.  Thus  heresy,  believing  itself  sufficiently  or- 
thodox to  proscribe  everything  that  differed  from  its  views, 
ascended  the  throne  where  omnipotence  awaited  it!  The 
same  emperor,  and  his  colleague  Valentinian  II.,  decreed  the 
penalty  of  death  for  idolatry.  But  idolatry  reigned  in  their 
own  hearts  and  around  them.  The  pagan  tradition 
ity*oi  u!e  of  the  divinity  of  the  prince  pervaded  the  Court  and 
prime.  all  the  acts  of  government.^  The  most  pious  among 
them,  the  great  Theodosius  himself,  spoke  unceasingly  of  their 
sacred  palaces,  of  their  divine  house:  they  permitted  their 
officials  to  adore  their  eternity.  The  same  Valentinian,  who 
punished  idolaters  with  death,  endeavoring  one  day  to  call 
the  Romans  to  arms  against  an  invasion  of  Yandals,  declared 
his  proclamation  to  be  signed  by  the  divine  hand,  speaking 
of  his  own  !  ^^ 

Thus  the  divinity  of  the  prince,  that  invention  of  the 
Csesars,  which  had  put  a  seal  to  the  degradation  of  Rome, 
and  placed  slavery  under  the  sanction  of  idolatry  —  that 
hideous  chimera  which  had  been  the  principal  pretext  of  per- 
secution, and  which  had  drunk  the  blood  of  so  many  human 
victims  — still  lasted  a  century  after  the  peace  of  the  Church. 
Sacrifices  were  no  longer  made  to  the  Csesars  after  their 
death,  but  during  their  life  they  were  poclaimed  divine  and 
eterna'.  It  was  onl}'  a  word,  but  a  word  which  exhibited  the 
corruption  of  souls,  and  the  unconcealed  thraldom  of  Chris- 
tian ideas. 

The  Church  has  passed  through  many  trials:  she  has  often 
been  pei'secuted,  often  compromised,  betrayed,  and  dishon- 
ored by  her  unworthy  ministers.  I  doubt  if  ever  she  stood 
nearer  the  brink  of  that  precipice  down  which  God  has 
promised  she  shall  never  fall.  1  doubt  if  she  ever  erdured 
a  sadder  lot  than  under  that  long  series  of  monarchs  who 
believed  themselves  her  benefactors  and  protectors,  and 
who,  at  the  same  time,  refused  to  her  liberty,  peace,  aad 
honor. 

•  Franz  de  Champagnt,  Dela  ChariU  Chretienne  au  iv*  Siecle,  \ .  dt6 
'"  "  Et  manu  divina:  Proponatur,"  &c.  —  Novell.,  Hi.  xx. 


AFTER    THE    PEACE    OF   THE    CHURCH.  153 

If  such  were  the  miseries  of  the   Cimrch,  still  so  civii  socie 
young  and  so  near   her   blood-stained  cradle,   what  th,'nSii"^ 
must  have  been  the  condition  of  the  State,  and  of  }'j^„'Jj;;^ ^^X 
lay  society?     A  single  word  is  enough  to  define  it.  jwt  to  pa- 
Paganism    existed   in   undiminished   force,  as    has  us  vilest 
been    demonstrated   by  one   of  the   most  excellent  *'^''"*- 
historians  of  our  own  age:  ''Civil   society,  like  religious  so- 
ciety, appeared  Christian.     The  sovereigns  and  the  immense 
majority  of  the  people  had    embraced  Christianity  ;   but,   at 
bottom,  civil  society  was  pagan  ;  it  retained  the  institutions, 
the  laws,  and  the  manners  of  paganism.     It  was  a  society 
which  paganism,  and  not  Christianity,  had  made."  ^^ 

And  this  paganism,  we  should  not  forget,  was  paganism 
under  its  most  degenerate  form.  Men  were  still  at  that  point 
where,  according  to  Tacitus,  the  politics  of  the  wisest  con- 
sisted in  supporting  all  emperors  whatsoever.^^  All  the 
Roman  greatness,  according  to  the  strong  expression  of 
Montesquieu,  had  only  served  to  satiate  the  appetite  of  five  or 
six  monsters.  After  Constantine,  the  sovereigns  were  bet- 
ter than  these  monsters,  but  the  institutions  were  of  less  and 
less  value.  A  hundred  and  twenty  millions  of  men  had  still 
no  rights  save  that  of  belonging  to  a  single  man,  to  a  chance 
master,  called  by  a  caprice  of  the  army,  or  an  intrigue  of  the 
court,  to  the  imperial  throne.  Despotism,  as  it  grew  old,  be- 
came at  once  feebler  and  more  vexatious.  It  weighed  upon 
all  and  protected  none.  It  exhausted  a  world  which  it 
could  not  even  defend.  The  power  of  one,  says  Salvian,  is 
the  ruin  of  tlie  woild  :  "  unius  honor,  orbis  excidium.^'  '^^ 
Peace,  comfort,  and  security  everywhere  disappeared.^^  Alter 
the  conversion  of  Constantine,  as  before  him,  the  bonds  of 
that  skilful  system  of  taxation  which  ended  by  ruining  labor 
and  property  in  the  Roman  world,  were  drawn  tighter  in 
eveiy  reign.     This  system,  aided  by  that  of  the  law,  raised 

*'  GuizoT,  Tlistoire  de  la  Civilisation  en  France,  lee.  ii.  He  adds : 
"  Christian  society  is  developed  later,  after  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians  :  it 
belongs  to  modern  history."  We  must  make  our  acknowledgments  here  to 
the  eminent  man  who,  nearly  thirty  years  ago,  and  before  any  Catholic  at- 
tempt to  regenerate  history  had  been  made,  did  justice  to  the  social  role  of 
the  Church,  of  which  he  had  not  the  good  fortune  to  be  a  son  —  insufficiently, 
no  doubt,  but  with  a  boldness  and  im])artiality  which  has  been  too  little  ap- 
preciated, even  by  those  whom  it  most  concerned. 

*^  "  Bonos  imperatores  voto  expetere,  tiualescumque  tolerare."  —  Jlistor., 
iv.  8. 

'*  De  Guhernat.  Dei,  iv.  4. 

'*  "  In  onmi  ferme  orbe  Romano  pax  et  securitas  non  sunt."  —  Salvian, 
De  Gubernat.  Dd,  vii.  1. 


154  THE    ROMAN    EMPIRE 

an  emperor  to  be  the  sole  representative  of  the  sovereigL' 
people^,  and  supreme  proprietor  of  all  the  wealth  of  the  em- 
pire. The  impost  absorbed  all  that  accusations  and  contisca- 
tions  had  left  of  the  patrimony  of  free  men.  Lactantius  says 
it  was  necessary'  to  buy  even  the  liberty  of  breathing.  Ac- 
cording to  Zozimus/^  the  fathers  prostituted  their  daughters 
to  have  means  to  pay  the  tax.  The  proprietor  and  the  citizen 
were  nothing  more  than  public  debtors,  and  were  treated 
with  all  the  barbarity  which  the  old  Romans  used  to  their 
debtors.  They  were  thrown  into  prison,  scourged,  their 
wives  scourged,  and  their  children  sold.^^  Torture  was  uni- 
versally employed  as  a  means  of  tax-gathering  ;  formerly 
reserved  for  slaves,  its  use  was  extended  to  all  the  citizens.^^ 
It  is  thus  that  absolute  power  understands  and  practises 
equality. 

The  Roman  republic,  says  Salvian,  expired  even  when  she 
seemed  still  living,  sti-angled  by  taxation,  like  the  traveller 
who  dies  in  the  grasp  of  brigands.  The  empire,  which  origi- 
nated amid  the  proscriptions  of  the  triumvirate,  worthily 
completed  its  work  by  a  fiscal  system  which  seemed  to  its 
despairing  victims  a  universal  proscription.^^ 
Universal  The  administrative  system  of  Diocletian,  aggra- 

anlide™'^"'  vatcd  by  the  Christian  emperors,  and  brought  to 
spair.  perfection  by  Justinian,  became  thus  the  scourge  of 

the  world.     We  see  in  Eumenes,  in  Lactantius,  and  in  Sal- 

'*  Histor.,  ii.  38. 

'^  The  following  incident  bears  indirectly  upon  our  subject,  and  shows  the 
condition  of  Roman  and  Christian  Egypt  in  the  fourth  century.  A  brigand 
who  had  become  a  monk  of  the  Theb^iid,  relates  the  following  tale  to  the 
celebrated  abbot  Paphnuce  :  "  Inveni  aliquam  forniosam  nuilierem  errantenj 
in  solitudine,  fugatani  ab  apparitoribus  et  curialibus  prtesidis  et  senatorum, 
propter  publicum  mariti  dtbitum.  Sciscitatus  sum  ex  ea  causani  fletus. 
Ilia  dixit.  •  .  .  Cum  maritus  tempore  biennii  ob  debitum  publicum  trecento- 
runi  aureorum  ssepe  fuerit  flagcllatus,  et  in  carcere  inclusus,  et  tres  mihi 
carissimi  filii  venditi  fuerint.  ego  recedo  fugitiva  .  .  .  etiatn  errans  per  soli- 
tudinem  sycpe  inventa  et  assidue  flagellata,  jam  tres  dies  permansi  jejuna." 
The  brigand  had  pity  on  this  victim  of  the  magistrates :  he  gave  her  the  gold 
which  he  had  stolen,  and  sheltered  her  and  her  children  from  all  outrage : 
citra  prohrum  et  contumeliam.  To  this  touch  of  pity  he  owed  fhe  mercy  of 
God,  and  his  conversion.  —  Palladius,  IHstoria  Lausiaca,  c.  6i. 

'^  Exemption  from  torture  became  the  privilege  of  the  nobles  and  muni- 
cipal magistrates,  and  of  children ;  but  this  privilege  was  suppressed  in  the 
case  of  high  treason. 

'*  "Extremum  spiritum  agens,  in  ea  parte  qua  adhuc  vivere  videtur,  trib- 
utorum  vinculis  quasi  praedonum  manibus  strangulata."  —  De  Gubernat.  Dei, 
iv.  6.  "Jam  vero  illud  quam  saevum,  quam  alienum  a  Barbaris,  quam  fami- 
liare  Romanis,  quod  se  invicem  exactione  proscribunt." — Ibid.,  v.  4.  See 
all  the  books  of  this  treatise  for  the  description  of  the  fiscal  exactions  of 
which  the  imperial  subjects  were  the  victims. 


AFTER  THE  PEACE  OF  THE  CHURCH.       155 

vi.in,  wlio  wrote  more  than  a  century  after  the  conversation 
of  Constantine,  the  picture  of  tliat  oppression,  the  most  in- 
genious and  cruel  which  has  ever  crushed  a  civiHzed  people. 
But  it  is  not  in  the  Fathers  or  historians,  but  in  the  very 
text  of  the  imperial  laws,  that  we  find  the  most  eloquent  rep- 
resentation of  these  disgraceful  plagues  of  the  Romai\  world. 
The  liypocrisy  of  the  language  then  used  does  not  suffice  to 
disguise  the  brutalit}'  of  the  facts,  nor  the  horriblo  natuie  cf 
the  universal  slavery .^^ 

The  aristocracy,  the  first  victim  of  despotism,  deprived  at 
once  of  power  and  independence,  and  replaced  everywhere 
b}^  officials,  was  smothered  under  the  pompous  and  I'idiculous 
titles  of  excellency^  eminence,  serenity,  clarissimus,  perfectissi- 
mus,  which  concealed  their  nonenity  from  no  one,  but  the 
usurpation  of  which,  even  by  carelessness  or  ignorance,  was 
punished  as  a  sacrilege.  The  citizens  of  the  towns,  held  re- 
sponsible for  the  taxes,  and  condemned  to  the  magistracy  as 
to  the  galleys,  suffered,  under  the  name  of  curials,  an  oppres- 
sion skilfully  organized,  and  applied  without  pity.  A  law 
of  the  two  sons  of  Theodosius  punished,  by  the  confiscation 
of  his  goods,  the  impiety  of  the  unfortunate  rich  man  who 
fled  out  of  those  towns,  transformed  into  prisons,  to  take 
refuge  in  the  country .^^ 

In  the  country  there  was  no  longer  anything  to  distinguish 
the  cultivators  from  the  slaves  ;  and  the  agricultural  popula- 
tion, exhausted  by  the  abominable  fiscal  exactions,  without 
protection  and  without  encouragement,  grew  disgusted  with 
their  labor,  and  fled  into  the  woods.  Those  who  revolted 
were  sure  of  being  pursued  and  murdered,  under  the  name 
of  Bagaudes,  like  so  many  wild  beasts.  Others  preferred 
the  rule  of  the  Barbarians,  and  anticipated  that  rule  by  flee- 
ing to  them:  that  captivity  seemed  to  them  less  dreadful 
than  imperial  slavery,  and  their  sole  wish  was  never  again 
to  become  Romans.^^     It  is  not  rare,  says  Orosius,  to  find 

'^  See  especially  that  fine  chapter  of  the  Ilistoire  des  Origines  Merovin- 
giennes  of  Le  Hueron,  entitled  •'  Des  Veritable  Causes  de  la  Dissolution  de 
rEiupire  Hoinain,"  vol.  i.  p.  120-153. 

^"  "  Curiales :  .  .  .  jubemur  nioneri  ne  civitates  fugiant  aut  deserant,  rus 
habitandi  causa;  funduin  quem  civitati  pnetulerint  scientes  fisco  esse  soci- 
aiulum,  eoque  rare  esse  carituros,  cujus  causa  impios  se.  vitando  patriarn 
dtMiionstrarint."  —  L.  Curiales,  2  Cod.  Theod.,  lib.  12,  tit.  18,  Si  cu7~iales. 

^'  "  Malunt  sub  specie  capiivitatis  vivere  liberi,  quani  sub  specie  libertatis 
esse  captivi.  .  .  .  Unura  illic  omnium  Romanorum  votum  est,  ne  unquam 
cos  necesse  sit  in  jus  transire  Komanum."  —  Salvian,  op.  cit.,  v.  5,  8.  "  In- 
terduni  vi  nimiie  amaritudinis  etiam  adventum  hostium  postulantes."  —  Ibid., 
vii.  16.     "  Jam  inveniuntur  inter  eos  Roniani  qui  malint  inter  Barbaros  pau- 


166  THE   KOMAN   EMPIRE 

Romans  wbo  prefer  a  free  poverty  among  the  Barbarians  to 
the  anguish  of  a  life  tormented  by  the  exactions  of  Rume. 
Bossuet  describes  the  circumstances  in  two  words  :  "  Every- 
thing perished  in  the  East :  .  .  .  All  the  West  was  a  des- 
ert."  ^^  Labor  withdrew ;  the  soil  remained  uncultivated  ; 
the  population  declined.  Impotence,  decay,  and  death  were 
everywhere.  The  provinces  which  the  barbarians  and  im- 
perial officers  vied  in  invading  and  wasting,  had  not  even 
energy  enough  to  shake  off  the  yoke.  "  The  world  is  dying 
in  Rome,"  said  the  lords  of  Gaul  to  the  Emperor  Avitus,^^ 
and  Rome  herself  seemed  condemned  to  die  abandoned  by 
iier  emperors,  and  ravished  by  the  Goths.  Nothing  remained 
to  her  of  those  noble  days  in  which  Roman  liberty  and  civic 
majesty  threw  forth  upon  human  nature  a  light  which,  thank 
God,  cannot  be  forgotten. 

Of  those  two  great  things,  the  greatest  perhaps  in  profane 
history,  the  Roman  senate  and  people,  senatus  popidusque 
Romanus,  we  have  thus  ascertained  the  fate  of  one.  As  for 
the  senate,  more  degraded  still,  if  possible,  than  the 
people,  it  interfered  in  the  government  only  to  sanc- 
tion every  crime  and  reward  every  baseness.  It  existed 
during  the  five  centuries  between  Augustus  and  Augustulus, 
without  leaving  a  single  act  or  discussion  worthy  of  recollec- 
tion. On  the  other  hand,  its  records  register  carefully  the 
number  of  acclamations  with  which  it  saluted  the  new  em- 
perors, and  of  curses  with  which  it  pursued  the  fallen  sover- 
eigns, even  those  to  whom  it  had  paid  most  slavish  adulation. 
Excluded  from  all  political  power  from  the  times  of  Diocletian, 
it  existed  onl}-  as  a  kind  of  great  municipal  council,  chai-ged 
with  the  task  of  dishonoring  in  histor}'  the  name  and  title  of 
the  most  august  assembly  which  has  ever  governed  men. 

Nothing  has  ever  equalled  the  abject  condition  of  the  Ro- 
mans of  the  Empire.  Free,  they  had  conquered  and  governed 
the  world  ;  enslaved,  they  could  not  even  defend  themselves. 
They  tried  a  change  of  masters ;  they  gave  themselves  two, 
and  then  four  :  they  redoubled  despotism  in  all  its  shapes ; 
nothing  would  do.  With  the  ancient  freedom,  all  virtue,  all 
manliness  disappeared.  There  remained  only  a  society  of 
officials,  without  strength,  without  honor,  and  without  rights. 

I  say  without  rights,  lor  in  all  the  imperial  world  no  one 

perem  libertavem,  quam  inter  Eomanos  tributariam  solicitudinern  sustinere." 
—  Orgs.,  Hist.,  vii.  41. 

^*  JUiscours  siir  V  Ilistoire  UniverseUe.  1st  part,  xi.  ep. ;  3d  part,  chap.  7. 

**  SiDONiDS  Apollinakis,  Putieg.  d'Avitus, 


AFTER    THE    PEACE    OF    THE    CHURCH.  157 

possessed  oven  a  shadow  of  a  serious  and  inviolable  g^^j^^, 
right.     I  affirm   it  boldl>^,  despite  all    the  learned  poweriess- 
panegyrists  of  that  rule.     The  Roman  empire,  type   Koman 
and  cradle  of  all  modern  servitude,  has  found  numer-  '"''"'• 
ous   apologists    and   admirers  in   these   days,   thanks  to  the 
readiness  with  which  the  task  of  justifying  the  present  by 
theories  borrowed  from  the  past  is  now  undertaken.     The 
progress  of  civil  law  and  democratic  equality,  regarded  by 
lliem  as  the   highest  expression  of  Roman  civilization,  has 
been  specially  dwelt  upon. 

But  Roman  law,  which  aided  the  patricians  to  organize, 
under  the  republic,  the  freest  and  strongest  government 
which  history  has  known,  changed  its  face  and  nature  under 
the  empire. 

How  absurd  and  chimerical  were  the  teachings  or  practice 
of  civil  law  in  a  state  where  the  person  an<l  property  of  every 
citizen  might  be  delivered,  without  debate  or  any  appeal 
whatever,  to  the  will  of  the  worst  villains  whom  tlie  world 
has  ever  seen  !  The  criminal  law,  so  humane,  so  protecting, 
and  so  liberal  up  to  the  time  of  the  proscriptions,  had  become 
in  the  hands  of  the  emperors  a  S3^stem  which,  according  to 
the  strong  expression  of  Bacon,^  tortured  the  laws  in  order 
to  torture  men.  As  for  political  law,  it  was  given  up  to  such 
anarchy  that,  of  the  thirty-four  emperors  who  reigned  from 
Commodus  to  Diocletian,  in  the  golden  age  of  Roman  juris= 
prudence,  thirtj^  were  killed  by  their  successors.  I  confess 
I  do  not  know  in  all  history  a  spectacle  more  repulsive  or 
grotesque  than  that  of  the  labors  of  all  these  jurisconsults, 
who,  on  questions  of  usufruct  and  usucapion,  trusteeships 
and  interdicts,  could  split  a  hair,  but  who  could  not,  during 
five  centuries,  discover  the  least  barrier  to  the  sanguinary 
violence  of  a  horde  of  Praetorians,  nor  to  the  monstrous  ca- 
prices of  a  Heliogabalus  or  of  a  Commodus. 

As  for  equality,  it  had  no  other  guarantee  than  chimera  of 
the  title  of  Roman  citizen,  prostituted  by  Caracalla  equality. 
as  a  supreme  derision  to  the  enslaved  world.  This  worthy 
successor  of  that  Csesar  who  had  thoughts  of  making  his 
horse  a  consul,  knew  well  what  he  did  in  bestowing  upon  all 
the  provincials  exempted  from  certain  imposts,  the  full  civic 
right  of  paying  to  the  treasury  all  that  the  treasury  exacted. 
The  people  who  were  honored  by  that  title  knew  also  how 
much  it  was  worth.     The  name  of  "  Roman  citizen,"  Salvian 

^  See  the  learned  Essai  sur  les  Lois   Criminelles  des  Eomains,  by  Ei>« 
GUARD  LA  BouLAYE,  distinguished  by  the  Institute.     1846. 
VOL.  I.  14 


158  THE    ROMAN    EMPIRE 

tells  us,  liitherto  so  much  esteemed  and  dearly  purchased, 
was  regarded  now  not  only  as  a  vain  and  disgraceful  title, 
but  as  a  kind  of  abomination. ^^ 

Moral  (ie-  Let  US  pass  over  the  decay  of  the  arts,  the  mean- 

basoineiit.  ncss  of  literature,  the  non-existence  of  the  sciences  ; 
but  we  must  acknowledge  that  in  this  so-called  Christian  so- 
ciety, the  moral  poverty  is  a  thousand  times  greater  than  the 
material,  and  that  servitude  has  crushed  souls  even  more 
than  bodies.  Everything  is  enervated,  attenuated  and  de- 
crepid.  Not  a  single  great  manor  illustrious  individual  rises 
to  the  surface  of  that  mire.  Eunuchs  and  sophists  of  the 
Court  govern  the  State  without  control,  experiencing  no  re- 
sistance but  from  the  Church.  After  Theodosius,  the  throne 
of  Constantino  acquired  a  degree  of  public  respect  only  by 
the  brief  reign  of  Pulcheria,  a  truly  Christian  woman  and 
saint.  But  if,  here  and  there,  a  great  captain,  a  man  of  heart 
and  talent,  rises  above  the  crowd,  we  see  him  fall  like  Stili- 
cho,  like  Aetius,  like  Belisarius,  under  the  murderous  jeal- 
ousy of  a  master  who  cannot  tolerate  either  a  power  or  fame 
which  is  not  his  own  by  the  side  of  his  omnipotence.  Wliile 
they  live,  their  renown  procures  them  onl}^  proscription,  and 
even  death  does  not  suffice  to  give  it  lustre.  The  infected 
air  they  breathed  seems  to  have  paled  their  glory  :  it  has 
neither  distinction  nor  charm  in  history. 
Virtue  and  ^^  discover  somc  trace  of  that  greatness  and 
liberty  to      streuo-th  which  are  the  legitimate  inheritance  of  the 

be  found 

only  in  the  most  noblo  crcature  of  God,  Ave  must  turn  to  the 
Church.  Church.  There  alone,  in  the  various  orders  of  the 
ecclesiastical  hierarchy,  and  despite  the  yoke  of  the  theologi- 
cal emperors,  it  was  still  possible  to  live,  to  struggle,  and 
even  to  shine. 

Tlie  great  and  the  small,  the  last  scions  of  the  patricians 
of  Rome,  the  old  races  of  the  conquered  countries,  the  ple- 
beians of  all  the  provinces  who  had  been  dignified  en  masse 
with  the  despised  title  of  Roman  citizens,  after  that  name 
had  lost  all  its  value,  —  all  could  seek  again  their  lost  dignity 
and  forfeited  freedom  in  the  city  of  God.  The  Church  alone 
ofi'ered  a  sufficient  sustenance  to  all  the  energy,  activity,  in- 
telligence, and  self-devotion  which  remained  among  them: 
for  she  invited  all  to  an  inexhaustible  series  of  sacrifices  and 
victories.  Genius,  glory,  virtue,  courage,  freedom  —  all  that 
makes  life  honorable,  even  in  a  human  point  of  view — was 
to  be  found  only  in  the  Church,  amid  these  great  controver- 
sies, and  incessant  struggles  for  the  salvation  of  souls  and 
**  De  Guberant.  Dei,  y. 


AFTER    THE    PEACE    OF   THE    CHURCH.  159 

the  triumph  of  trutli,  in  which  she  had  always  re  ison,  genius, 
and  right  on  her  side,  tliough  these  were  not  enough  to  gain 
hf^r  cause  before  the  throne  of  her  protectors. 

But  God,  by  the  side  of  tlie  spiritual  society  in-  (,j^j,  g^, 
stituted  and  regulated  by  Himself,  has  created  tern-  ciety  ought 

.  .  not  to  bt> 

poral  society  ;  and  if  he  has  there,  as  everywhere,  condemned 
reserved  to  Himself,  the  secret  conduct  of  events,  *''"""'*y- 
and  the  charge  of  striking  the  great  blows  of  his  infallible 
justice,  He  has  given  up  its  ordinary  government  to  the  free 
and  intelligent  activity  of  man.  To  withdraw  life,  or  all  that 
makes  life  valuable,  from  this  temporal  society  —  to  reduce 
it  to  stagnation,  servitude,  indifference,  and  moral  misery  — 
to  recognize  in  spiritual  society  only  the  right  of  living  and 
increasing,  and  in  religious  controversy  alone  the  means  of 
moving  souls  to  impassioned  sentiments  — is  to  thrust  human- 
ity to  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  This  condition,  as  well  as  its 
contrary  excess,  is  to  be  seen  repeatedly  in  history  ;  but  such 
a  state  of  things  is  repugnant  to  the  laws  of  creation.  It  is 
neither  in  conformity  with  the  will  of  God,  nor  the  interest 
of  the  Church,  to  condemn  civil  society  to  the  condition  of  a 
nonenity.  A  man  has  other  rights  than  that  of  choosing 
between  the  priesthood  and  slavery.  There  is  nothing  which 
approaches  nearer  to  heaven  than  a  monastery  inhabited  by 
monks  who  have  willingly  separated  themselves  from  the 
world ;  but  to  transform  the  world  into  a  cloister,  peopled  by 
unwilling  monks,  would  be  to  create  beforehand  a  counter- 
feit hell.  God  has  never  made  the  slavery  and  degradation 
of  the  world  a  condition  of  the  liberty  of  His  Church.  Hap- 
pily ,  other  times  shall  follow,  in  which,  by  the  side  of  a  Church 
triumphant,  free,  and  fertile,  shall  rise  a  society  ardent  and 
humble  in  its  faith,  but  also  energetic,  warlike,  generous,  and 
manly,  even  in  its  errors ;  in  which  authority  shall  be  at 
once  sanctified  and  limited,  and  freedom  ennobled  by  sacri- 
fice and  charity  ;  in  which  heroes  shall  crowd  upon  saints  ; 
in  which  cloisters,  however  closely  peopled,  shall  no  .longer 
be  the  sole  asylum  for  upright  and  noble  souls ;  in  which 
many  men  —  not  all,  but  many  —  shall  regain  the  full  com- 
mand of  themselves  ;  in  which  the  sovereigns  shall  have  to 
render  an  account  to  their  people,  the  strong  to  the  feeble, 
and  all  to  God. 
,„,    ^,     ^        In  the  fourth  and   fifth  centuries  the  verv  dawn- 

Tlie  Church    .  (•  ,  i      ,  •  ,         i"     •    •  i  i 

does  not       lug  ot  that  neccssary  renovation  was  not  yet  visible. 


succeed  in     ry^^  ^j^   imperial  world  existcd  still.     Christianity 


regenerat- 


Empire        ^'^^  accepted  that  abject  condition,  as  it  acce])ts  all, 
with  the  supernatural  confidence  of  aiding  what 


160  THE    ROMAN    EMPIRE 

was  good  in  it,  and  of  lessening  the  evil.  But  despite  her 
divine  force  and  origin  —  despite  the  humble  and  zealous 
devotion  of  the  Fathers  and  pontiffs  to  the  decrepid  majesty 
of  the  Caesars  —  despite  her  men  of  genius  and  her  saints  — 
Christianity  did  not  succeed  in  transforming  the  ancient 
world.  Had  she  succeeded  in  taking  full  possession,  with 
the  elements  which  then  constituted  it,  she  could  only  have 
made  a  kind  of  Christian  China.  God  spared  her  that  abor- 
tion :  but  the  history  of  this  period  remains  an  ever  memora- 
ble example  of  the  powerlessness  of  genius  and  sanctity  to 
overcome  the  corruption  engendered  by  despotism. 

The  old  world  was  then  at  the  point  of  deatli.  The  empire 
gave  way  slowly,  in  shame  and  contempt,  stricken  by  a  mel- 
ancholy weakness  which  did  not  even  inspire  pity.  Every- 
thing dropped  into  incurable  decay.  Such  was  the  fate  of 
the  Roman  empire  two  centuries  after  it  had  become  Chris- 
tian. In  spiritual  affairs  it  was  on  the  road  to  that  schism 
which,  under  the  Byzantine  Ca3sars,  separated  from  unity 
and  truth  more  than  half  of  the  world  converted  by  the 
apostles.  In  temporal  affairs  it  issued  in  the  miserable 
regime  of  the  Lower  Empire,  the  hardest  censure  we  can 
pronounce  upon  which,  is  to  name  its  name. 

In  order  that  the  Gliurch  should  save  society,  a  new  ele- 
ment was  necessary  in  the  world,  and  a  new  force  in  the 
The  Bar-  Cliurch.  Two  iuvasious  were  required  —  that  of 
were'neces-  ^hc  Barbarians  from  the  north,  and  that  of  the  monks 
sary.  hova  the  south. 

They  came  ;  —  first  the  Barbarians.  Behold  them  strug- 
gling with  the  Romans,  enervated  by  slavery,  and  v/ith  the 
emperors,  powerless  in  the  midst  of  their  omnipotence. 

First  obscure,  victims  and  prisoners  disdained  by  the  first 
Csesars ;  then  auxiliaries,  by  turns  sought  and  feared;  then 
irresistible  adversaries ;  at  last  victors  and  masters  of  the 
humiliated  empire  :  they  come,  not  as  a  torrent  which  passes 
on,  but  as  a  flood  which  advances,  draws  back,  returns,  and 
finally  remains  master  of  the  invaded  soil.  They  advance, 
they  withdraw,  they  return,  they  remain  and  triumph.  Those 
among  them  who  were  desirous  of  arresting  their  course  and 
allying  themselves  with  the  terrified  Romans,  are  in  their 
turn  set  aside,  passed  over,  and  surmounted  by  the  tide 
which  follows.  Behold  them  !  They  come  down  the  valley 
of  the  Danube,  which  puts  them  on  tlie  road  to  Byzantium 
and  Asia  Minor;  they  ascend  its  tril)utar_v  streams,  and  thus 
reach  the  summits  of  the  Alps,  from  whence  they  burst  upon 
Italy.     They  pass  the   Rliine,  cross  the  Vosges,  the  Ceveii' 


AFTER   THE    PEACE    OF    THE    CllUilCII.  IGl 

nes,  the  Pyrenee?,  and  inundate  Gaul  and  Spain.  Tlio  East 
imagined  that  it  would  be  spared :  vain  dchision  !  The 
storm  bursts  from  the  heights  of  Caucasus,  and  overflows 
these  regions  in  their  turn.  The  wolves  of  the  north  (thus 
St.  Jerome  entitles  them),  after  having  devoured  everything, 
come  to  drink  in  the  waters  of  the  Euphrates.  Egypt, 
Phoenicia,  Palestine  —  all  the  countries  which  they  do  not 
visit  in  their  first  incursion  —  are  already  taken  captive  by 
fear.  It  is  not  one  nation  alone,  like  the  Roman  people,  but 
twenty  different  and  independent  races.  "  For  many  years," 
says  St.  Jerome  again,  "  Roman  blood  has  flowed  daily  under 
the  blows  of  the  Goth,  of  the  Sarmatian,  of  the  Quadi,  of  the 
Alan,  of  the  Hun,  of  the  Vandal,  of  the  Marcoman." -"^  It  is 
not  the  army  of  a  single  conqueror  like  Alexander  and 
Caesar  ;  there  are  twenty  kings  unknown  but  intrepid,  having 
soldiers  and  not  subjects,  accountable  for  their  authority  to 
their  priests  and  warriors,  and  obliged  by  force  of  persever- 
ance and  audacity  to  earn  a  pardon  for  their  power.  They 
all  obey  an  irresistible  instinct,  and  unconsciously  carry 
with  them  the  destinies  and  institutions  of  the  Christendom 
to  come. 

Visible  instruments  of  divine  iustice,  they  come  ,^, 

^  o  7  J  VVii3-t  we 

by  intuition  to  avenge  the  nations  oppressed  and  owu  to 
tfie  martyrs  slain.  They  shall  destroy,  but  it  will  *'''^'"' 
be  to  give  a  substitute  for  that  which  they  have  destroyed  ; 
and,  besides,  they  will  kill  nothing  that  deserves  to  live,  or 
that  retains  the  conditions  of  life.  They  shall  shed  blood  in 
torrents,  but  they  shall  renew  by  their  own  blood  the  ex- 
hausted sap  of  Europe.  They  bring  with  them  fire  and  sword, 
but  also  strength  and  life.  Through  a  thousand  crimes  and  a 
thousand  evils,  they  shall  reveal,  though  still  under  a  confused 
form,  two  things  which  Roman  society  has  ceased  to  know  — 
the  dignity  of  man,  and  the  respect  for  woman.  They  have  in- 
stincts rather  than  principles  to  guide  them  ;  but  when  these 
instincts  shall  have  been  fertilized  and  purified  by  Chris- 
tianity, out  of  them  shall  spring  Catholic  chivalry  and  royalty. 
One  sentiment  above  all  shall  be  derived  from  them,  which 
was  unknown  in  the  Roman  empire,  which  perhaps  even  the 
most  illustrious  pagans  were  strangers  to,  and  which  is 
always  incompatible  with  despotism  —  the  sentiment  of 
honor  :  ''  That  secret  and  profound  spring  of  modern  society, 

^  "  Quotidie  Romanus  sanguis  effunditur.  .  .  .  Ecce  tibi  ex  ultimis  Cau- 
casi  rupibus  immissi  in  nos  .  .  .  scptentrionis  iupi."  —  S.  Hieron.,  Dt 
Laude  Nepotian.i,  c.  ii.     Comp.  Epist.  ad  Ocean,  de   Vila  S.  Fabiola. 

14* 


162  THE    ROMAN  EMPIRE 

which  is  nothing  else  than  the  independence  and  inviolahility 
of  the  human  conscience,  superior  to  all  powers,  all  tyrannies, 
;ind  all  external  force."  ^'• 

Tbe}^  carry  with  them,  in  addition,  freedom  —  not  certainly 
such  freedom  as  we  have  since  conceived  and  possessed,  but 
the  germs  and  conditions  of  all  freedom  ;  that  is  to  say,  the 
spirit  of  resistance  to  excessive  power,  a  manful  impatience 
of  the  yoke,  and  a  profound  consciousness  of  personal  right, 
and  the  individual  value  of  every  soul  before  other  men  as 
before  God.^^ 

Freedom  and  honor  !  Rome  and  the  world  had  been  bank- 
rupt in  these  qualities  since  the  times  of  Augustus.  We  owe 
these  gifts  to  our  ancestors,  the  Barbarians. 

In  a  purely  religious  point  of  view,  more  than  one  great 
heart  among  the  Christians  had  recognized  at  once  the  mys- 
terious characteristics  by  which  God  had  distinguished  those 
races  which  seemed  to  proceed  only  out  of  His  wrath.  With 
a  confidence  which  was  not  shaken  by  the  fury  of  the  hurri- 
cane which  crossed  their  path,  and  which  lasted  two  cen- 
turies, this  discovery  was  declared.  Amid  the  calamities 
and  sufferings  of  the  first  invasion  of  the  Goths,  St.  Augus- 
tine remarked  the  marvellous  forbearance  of  the  soldiers  of 
Alaric  before  the  tombs  of  the  martyrs:  he  even  went  so  far 
as  to  speak  of  the  mercy  and  humility  of  these  terrible 
victors.-^  Salvian  does  not  hesitate  to  say  that  the  Barba- 
rians, even  heretics,  led  a  better  life  than  the  Romans,  even 
those  who  were  orthodox.  "  Their  modesty,"  he  says  else- 
where. "  purifies  the  earth,  all  stained  by  Roman  debauch- 
ery."30  p^ul  Orosius,  a  disciple  of  St.  Augustine,  compared 
tliem  to  Alexander,  and  to  the  Romans  of  the  republican 
times  ;  and  he  adds :  '*  The  Germans  now  overturn  the  world, 
but  if  (which  God  forbid  !)  they  end  by  remaining  its  mas- 
ters, and  govern  it  according  to  their  own  customs,  posterity 
perhaps  will  one  day  salute  with  the  titleof  great  kings  those 
in  whom  we  can  only  see  enemies." 

Let  us  not  exaggerate,  however,  nor  anticipate  the  truth. 

*'  OzANAM,  La  Civilisation  Ohretienne  au  y'  Siecle. 

^  "  Tlic  Germans  have  given  us  the  spirit  oi  freedom,  such  as  we  know 
and  realize  it  at  the  present  time,  tlie  right  and  possession  of  each  individ- 
ual, master  of  himself  and  of  his  actions  and  destiny,  so  long  as  he  wrongs 
no  other.  ...  It  is  to  German  customs  that  this  distinctive  character  of  our 
civilization  is  traceable.  The  fundamental  idea  of  freedom,  in  modern  Eu- 
rope, came  to  it  from  its  conquerors."  —  Guizot,  Histoire  de  la  Cii  ilisation 
en  France,  lecj.  vii. 

'*  "  Misericordia  et  humilitas  etiam  immanium  Barbarorum." — De  CivH, 
Dei,  i.  4.     Compare  cap.  1  et  7. 

'"  fJe  Guhtrnat.  Dti,  v.  2 ;  vii.  6. 


AFTER    THE    PEACE    OF    THE    CHURCH.  163 

The  germs  only  of  the  great  conquests  of  the  future  existed 
amid  the  fermentation  of  these  confused  and  turbulent  masses. 
At  the  first  glance,  it  is  cruelty,  violence,  a  love  of  blood  and 
devastation  which  seems  to  animate  them  ;  and,  as  among  all 
savages,  these  explosions  of  natural  brutality  are  allied  to  all 
the  refinements  of  deceit. 

These  undaunted  men,  who  knew  so  well  how  to  Their  vices 
vindicate  human  dignity  against  their  sovereigns,  •'*'^''  Times, 
respected  it  so  little  tliat  they  slaughtered  entire  populations 
as  if  for  sport.  These  warriors,  who  knelt  around  their 
prophetesses,  and  recognized  something  sacred  in  womau.^' 
made  their  captives  too  often  the  playthings  of  their  lust  or 
cruelty ,^2  and  their  kings  at  least  practised  polygamy. 

In  respect  to  Christianity,  their  attitude  was  uncertain, 
their  adhesion  tardy  and  equivocal.  If  there  Avore  early 
Christians  among  the  Goths  —  if,  from  the  beginning  of  the 
peace  of  the  Church,  German  bishops  appeared  in  the  Coun- 
cils of  Aries,  Nicasa,  and  Sardica  —  if,  at  the  sack  of  Rt)rae  in 
410,  Alaric  commanded  the  Church,  the  sacred  vessels,  and 
the  Christian  women  to  be  respected  —  if  the  baibaric 
nations  as  a  whole,  personified  by  their  two  most  formidable 
chiefs,  seemed  to  stand  arrested  before  St.  Leo,  who  alone 
could  control  Genseric,  and  make  Attila  fall  back — it  is  not 
the  less  true  that  two  centuries  of  invasions  into  the  bosom 
of  the  Christian  world  had  not  sufficed  to  identify  the  victors 
with  the  religion  of  the  vanquished.  The  Saxons,  the 
Franks,  the  Gepides,  and  the  Alans  remained  idolaters;  and, 
a  thousand  tim.es  worse,  in  proportion  as  these  people  were 
converted  to  Christianity,  they  l3ecarao  the  prey  of  a  miser- 
able heresy.  Truth  served  them  only  as  a  bridge  from  one 
abyss  to  another.  When  it  was  repressed  by  Theodosius  in 
the  empire,  Arianism  turned  aside  to  seduce  and  govern  the 
future  victors  of  the  empire.  The  Visigoths,  the  Ostrogoths, 
the  Herules,  the  Burgundians,  became  Arians.  Euric  and 
the  Sueves  in  Spain,  Genseric  and  the  Vandals  in  Africa. 
sacrifiped  thousands  of  martyrs  to  that  doctrine  which  was 
the  idol  of  all  tyrants,  because  it  encouraged  at  the  same 
time  the  revolt  of  reason  against  faith,  and  the  usurpations 
of  secular  power  upon  the  Church. 

And  soon  the  corruption  of  Roman  manners  pressed  upon 
and  infected  these  young  and  passionate  races.  Their  ener- 
getic vitality  abandoned  itself  to  the  caresses  of  a  decrepid 

''  "  Inesse  quin  etiam  sanctum  aliquid."  —  Tacitus,  De  Mor.  German. 
'^  See,  among  other  examplets,  tUe  atrocious  sufferings  indicted  upon  tliroe 
hundred  Frank  maidens  given  as  hostages  to  tlie  Tlmringians. 


164  THE   ROMAN   EMPIRE. 

civilization.  Conquest  was  on  tlie  point  of  becoming  a  law- 
less revel,  and  the  world  was  in  danger  of  liaviny:  changed 
its  masters  without  changing  its  destiny. 

Who  then  shall  discipline  these  indomitable  races?  Who 
shall  shape  thera  to  the  great  art  of  living  and  governing? 
Who  shall  teach  them  to  found  kingdoms  and  common- 
wealths ?  Who  shall  soften  without  enervating  them  ?  Who 
shall  preserve  them  from  contagion?  Who  shall  prevent 
thera  from  precipitating  themselves  into  corruption,  and 
rotting  before  the_y  were  ripe  ? 

Tijp  monks  ^^  ^^^^'  ^^  ^'^^  Church,  but  the  Church  by  the 
came,  and,  mouks.  From  t!ie  depths  of  the  deserts  of  Efrypt 
tiie  Bar-  and  the  East,  God  brought  forth  a  host  of  black- 
aidecuhe  Tobed  mou,  moro  intrepid  and  patient,  more  indefi-t- 
(.'iHirchto     in-able  and  less  indulgent  to  themselves,  than  Ro- 

constitute         »  ti       i        •  mi  i     i 

ciiiisten-  mans  or  barbarians  ever  were.  1  he}' spread  tliem- 
selves  noiselessly  over  all  the  empire,  and  when  the 
hour  of  its  ruin  had  come,  they  are  to  be  found  everywhere, 
in  the  West  as  well  as  in  the  East.  The  Barbarians  came  : 
and  in  proportion  to  their  progress,  by  their  side,  before, 
behind,  wherever  they  had  passed  with  fire  and  death,  other 
armies  come  to  encamp  in  silence,  other  colonies  form, 
arrange,  and  devote  themselves  to  heal  the  miseries  of  in- 
vasion, and  to  gather  the  fruits  of  victory.  At  length,  when 
the  destroyers  had  invaded,  ravaged,  and  conquered  every- 
thing, a  great  man  will  appear.  Benedict  is  destined  to  be 
the  legislator  of  labor,  of  voluntary  continence  and  poverty ; 
he  shall  count  his  children,  who  shall  be  also  his  soldiers,  by 
thousands.  From  among  the  Barbarians  themselves  his  fol- 
lowers shall  arise ;  their  chief  shall  one  day  fall  at  his  feet. 
He  will  raise  him  up  as  a  vassal  and  auxiliary.  He  will 
write  a  rule  which,  during  six  centuries,  shall  light  Europe 
like  a  Pharos  of  salvation,  and  be  the  law,  the  force,  and  the 
life  of  those  pacific  legions,  which  were  destined  in  their 
turn  to  inundate  Europe,  but  only  to  fertilize  her,  to  raise 
lier  ruins,  to  cultivate  her  deva^-tated  fields,  people  her  des- 
erts, and  conquer  her  conquerors. 

The  Roman  empire,  without  the  Barbarians,  was  an  abyss 
of  servitude  and  corruption.  The  Barbarians,  without  the 
monks,  were  chaos.  The  Barbarians  and  the  monks  united 
re-created  a  world  which  was  to  be  called  Christendom.^"^ 

'*  This  First  Book  appeurtid  in  tlip  Revue  des  Deux  Mcndes  of  the  1st  Jan 
\iary,  1855. 


BOOK  II. 

MONASTIC  PRECURSORS  IN  THE  EAST. 


SUMMARY. 

Origin  of  monastic  life  in  antiquity,  in  the  ancient  law,  in  the  Gospel.  —  It 
is  originated  by  Jesus  Christ.  —  The  monies  appear  to  succeed  tlie  martyrs 
and  restrain  the  Barbarians.  —  Martyrdom  of  St.  Febronia,  nun  at  Nisi- 
bis.  —  The  Fathers  of  the  Desert.  —  The  Tiiebaid.  —  St.  Anthony, 
the  first  of  the  abbots  :  his  influence  in  the  Church ;  multitude  of  liis  dis- 
ciples; his  struggle  against  Arianisin. — St.  Paul,  first  hermit.  —  St. 
Pacome,  autlior  of  the  first  written  rule,  founder  of  Tabenne.  —  The  two 
Amnions.  —  The  two  Macarii.  —  Meeting  with  a  tribune  upon  the  Nile.  — 
Prodigious  number  of  monks  of  the  Thebaid :  their  laborious  life,  tlieir 
charity,  their  studies,  their  zeal  for  the  ortliodox  faith.  —  St.  Athanasius 
concealed  in  the  Thebaid.  —  Paradise  in  the  desert.  —  Nunneries  in 
Egypt :  Alexandra,  Euphrosyne.  —  Converted  courtesans ;  Pelagia.  —  St. 
Euphrasia.  —  The  monks  of  Sinai.  —  Hilarion  introduces  monastic  life 
into  Palestine.  —  Hilarion  and  Epiphanius  in  the  island  of  Cyprus.  —  St. 
Ephraim  in  Mesopotamia.  —  St.  Simeon  Stylites  in  Syria.  —  Martyr  monks 
in  Persia.  —  St.  Basil  and  St.  Gregory  of  Nazianzus  in  Cappadocia: 
their  friendsliip,  their  monastic  life,  tlieir  part  in  the  Church. — Violent 
opposition  against  the  monks  among  the  pagans  and  Arians,  the  rhetori- 
cians and  sophists,  and  among  many  Christians.  —  St.  John  Chrysostom 
constitutes  himself  their  apologist :  liis  treatise  against  the  detractors  of 
monastic  life.  —  His  conduct  towards  them  as  Archbishop  of  Constantino- 
ple. —  He  is  maltreated  by  tlie  monks  at  Caesarea.  —  The  monks  at  An- 
tioch  under  Tlieodosius. — Telemaclms  puts  a  stop  to  the  fights  of  the 
gladiators.  — Decay  of  the  Monks  of  the  East,  who  end  by  becoming 
slaves  of  Islaraism  and  accomplices  of  schism. 


Lo  magrg'ior  don,  che  Dio  per  sue  larghezze  Or  ti  parri,  se  tu  quinci  argomenti, 

Fesse  cieunrlo,  ed  alia  sua  bonta'e  L'  alto  valor  del  voto,  s'  fe  si  fatto. 

Ma  coiif'ormato.  o  quel  ch'  ei  pia  apprczza,  Che  Dio  consenta,  quando  tu  consenti. 

Fu  della  volouU  la  libertate,  Che  nel  fermar  tra  Pio  o  1'  uomo  il  patto 

Dl  che  le  creature  iutelligenti  Vittima  fassi  di  questo  tesoro. 

S  tutte,  e  sole,  furo  e  son  dotate.  Dantk,  Parad.,  c   v. 

The  monks  were  now  in  conflict  with  the  Barbarians.     In 
the  fourth  century  began  that  apostolical  struggle  and  mis- 

165 


166  MONASTIC    PRECUESORS 

gion,  which  continned  till  the  twelfth  century,  and  ended  on!}' 
after  the  final  constitution  of  Catholic  Europe, 
nefinition  -But  whcu  ;e  came  the  monks?  and  what  is  a 
nlonastic  mouk  ?  It  js  important  to  answer  this  question 
cou.iition.  briefly.  A  monk  is  a  Christian  who  puts  himseH 
apart  from  the  world,  in  order  more  surely  to  work  out  his 
eternal  salvation.  He  is  a  man  who  withdraws  from  other 
men,  not  in  hatred  or  contempt  of  them,  but  for  the  love  of 
God  and  his  neighbor,  and  to  serve  them  so  much  the  bet- 
ter, as  he  shall  have  more  and  more  purified  and  regulated  his 
soul. 

This  idea  of  retirement  and  solitude  is  the  root  of  the  very 
name  of  monk,  which  comes  from  the  Greek  word  /'O'"?,  solita- 
ry. But  as  many  Christians  have  in  all  ages  obeyed  the  same 
impulse,  these  solitaries  have  joined  each  other ;  they  have 
thus  reconstituted  the  social  life  from  which  they  appeared 
to  flee  ;  and  that  life,  founded  upon  an  absolute  community  in 
thought  and  action,  has  formed  the  basis  and  strength  of  the 
monastic  condition. 

But  it  was  not  enough  for  a  monk  to  separate  himself  from 
the  world  ;  he  had  also  to  abstain  from  what  is  lawful  in  the 
world.  The  monk  is,  then,  essentially,  a  man  who  deprives 
himself  of  that  which  he  might  enjoy  without  reproach.  He 
accepts  not  only  the  precepts  of  the  Gospel,  but  its  advice. 
To  avoid  what  is  forbidden,  he  renounces  what  is  permitted. 
To  reach  goodness,  he  aspires  to  perfection.  To  make  sure 
of  his  salvation,  he  would  do  more  than  is  necessary  to  save 
him.  He  binds  himself  to  a  kind  of  chastity,  of  submission, 
and  of  poverty,  not  required  from  all  Christians.  He  re- 
nounces, by  a  generous  effort  of  his  free  choice,  the  ties  of 
marriage  and  family,  individual  property,  and  personal  will; 
and  he  puts  this  triple  sacrifice  under  the  safeguard  of  an 
irrevocable  promise,  of  a  vow.  Having  thus  triumphed  over 
his  body  by  continence,  over  his  soul  by  obedience,  and  over 
the  world  by  voluntary  poverty,  he  comes  throe  times  a 
victor,  to  offer  himself  to  God,  and  to  take  his  place  in  the 
first  rank  of  that  army  which  is  called  the  Church. 

This  condition  of  life  is  as  old  as  the  world.  It  has  two 
origins  —  a  natural,  and  a  supernatural. 

Yes ;  this  life  of  solitude  and  privation,  so  con- 
themonas-  trary  iu  appearance  to  all  the  inclinations  of  man, 
tic  order,  gj^jg  ^ts  root  in  human  nature  itself.  All  men,  at 
some  certain  moment  of  their  life,  have  felt  that  mysterious 
and  powerful  attraction  towards  solitude.     Every  nation  haa 


IN    THE    EAST.  167 

recognized  and  honored  it ;  all  religions  have  adopted  and 
sanctioned  it.  The  philosophers  and  moralists  of  paganism 
have  emulated  each  other  in  glorifying  that  impulse  of  na- 
ture. The  oriental  world  pursued  it  passionately.  India, 
for  three  thousand  years,  has  had  her  ascetics,  who  pushed 
to  delirium  the  science  of  mortification  and  the  practice  of 
voluntary  chastisements.  They  are  still  to  be  found,  wander- 
ing over  the  world,  or  living  in  vast  communities  in  all  tho 
nations  which  recognize  the  law  of  Buddha.  They  have  pro- 
duced nothing,  preserved  nothing ;  the  pride  of  error,  and 
the  corruption  of  idleness,  have  rendered  them  useless  to  the 
human  mind  as  to  society  ;  but,  even  in  their  abject  condi- 
tion, they  bear  an  immortal  testimony  to  that  profound 
instinct  of  the  soul  which  the  only  true  religion  has  trans- 
ferred into  an  inexhaustible  source  of  virtues  and  benefits. 

In  the  midst  of  ancient  civilization,  Pythagoras  inantiqui- 
and  his  disciples,  who  already  went  by  the  name  of  ^y- 
cenobites,^  Plato  in  his  Republic,  Epictetus  in  his  Cebetis  Tabula, 
and  many  others,  have  recommended  this  manner  of  exist- 
ence as  the  last  goal  of  wisdom.  But  Christianity  alone  lias 
known  how  to  discipline  these  fugitive  impressions,  to  give 
them  an  efficacious  bearing  and  a  permanent  energy,  by  the 
institution  of  the  monastic  order.  She  alone  was  entitled  to 
offer  a  divine  sanction,  an  infallible  aim,  and  an  eternal  recom- 
pense, to  that  inclination  of  nature  acknowledged  by  all. 

By  the  side  of  this  purely  human  and  natural  ori- 
gin of  the  monastic  life,  we  must  also  acknowledge     ancient 
one  supernatural  and  celestial.     In  the  ancient  law,     '''*^^* 
where  everything  is  a  figure  or  symbol  of  the  new  law,  models 
of  a  solitary  and  tranquil  life  consecrated  entirely  to  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  soul,  are  already  to  be  found.     Samuel,  in 
whom    the  chain  of  prophets    properly  commences,   Elijah 
especially,  then  St.  John   the  Baptist,^  have   been  regarded 
by  many,  and  not  without  reason,  as  the  types  and  first  mas- 
ters of  monastic  life. 

The  apostle  himself  describes  to  us  the  prophets  clad  in 
goatskins,  wandering  in  the  deserts,  on  the  mountains,  in  the 
caves  and  dens  of  the  earth.^  St.  Augustine  shows  them 
sequestered  from  the  people,  buried  in  retirement,  far  from 

'  Jamelic,  De  Vit.  Pithag.,  6. 

*  The  Greek  Fathers  have  entitled  him  Prince  of  anchorites  and  Prince  of 
monks. 

^  "In  sheepskins  and  goafskins;  .  .  .  they  wandered  in  deserts,  and  i« 
mountains,  and  in  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth."  —  Heb.  xi.  37,  38. 


168  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

cities,  forming  communities  and  schools,  vowed  to  prayer,  to 
labor  with  their  hands,  and  to  study.*  The^^  were;  clothed  in 
sackcloth  or  the  skins  of  beasts.^  Their  poverty  was  visible 
in  all  their  life.  Elisha  had  for  furniture  only  a  pallet,  a 
table,  a  chair,  and  a  candlestick.^  He  accepted  no  presents 
except  barley-bread  and  a  little  meal,  such  as  are  given  to 
the  poor.'  The  frugality  of  the  prophets  was  not  less  re- 
markable. The  angel  gave  Elijah  only  bread  and  water  for 
a  long  journey.  Obadiah,  the  steward  of  Ahab,  a  man  who 
feai-ed  God,  says  Scripture,  nourished  a  hundred  prophets 
'with  bread  and  water  in  a  cave.  Elisha  cooked  wild  herbs 
for  the  food  of  his  brethren,  the  sons  of  the  prophets.''' 

Another  example  less  known  is  that  of  the  Eechabites."" 
Nino  hundred  years  before  Christ,  in  the  time  of  Jehu,  king 
of  Israel,  Jonadab  the  son  of  Rechab,  a  just  man,  interdicted 
his  descendants  from  living  under  a  roof,  from  drinking  wine, 
and  from  possessing  lands,  and  bound  them  to  dwell  apart, 
under  tents,  all  the  days  of  their  life.  Three  centuries  after- 
wards, Jeremiah  found  them  scrupulously  faithful  to  the  rule 
prescribed  by  their  ancestor,  and  addressed  to  them,  in  the 
name  of  God,  these  words  —  "Because  ye  have  obeyed  the 
commandment  of  Jonadab  your  father,  .  .  .  therefore  thus 
saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  the  God  of  Israel,  Jonadab  the  son 
of  Rechab  shall  not  want  a  man  to  stand  before  me  forever."  ^ 

Perhaps  we  might  trace  in  them,  if  not  the  ancestors,  at 
least  the  models  of  the  Essenes  and  Therapeutists,  the  monks 
of  Judaism,  who  lived,  the  first  in  the  times  of  the  Maccabees, 
upon  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and  the  last,  two  centuries 
later,  in  Asia  Minor  and  Egypt.  Both  lived  in  the  desert,  in 
cells,  preserving  celibacy,  renouncing  property,  pleasure, 
and  delicate  food,  and  concentrating  their  time  to  manual 
labor  or  to  the  study  of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Porphj^ry,  and 
Pliny  the  naturalist,  have  spoken  with  admiration  of  the 
Essenes.^     Philo,  the  most  eloquent  of  the  Jews,!^  has  de- 

*  De  Civit.  Dei,  xviii.  41. 

*  Isa.  XX.  2;  Dan.  ix.  3;  Zech.  xiii.  4.  Compare  Rev.  xi.  3,  and  2  Kings, 
i.  8. 

®  2  Kings  iv.  10.  ^  Verse  42.  '''■  Verse  39. 

''^  Bossu^t  ranks  them  with  the  monks  in  this  passage  of  the  Elevations : 
—  "  If  the  Rechabites  and  the  monks  are  justly  so  scrupulous,  and  so  itiuch 
a.shaiiied  of  breaking  their  rules,  how  much  sliould  we  tremble  lest  we  fail  in 
oLedipnce  to  t!ie  law  of  God,"  &c.  —  'K.Yth  Sem  7th  Elevat. 

"  Jer.  xxxv.  18,  19. 

*  PoRPiiYR.,  De  Ahstinentia,  iv.  11;  Plin.,  Hist.  Natur.,  v.;  Thonissen, 
Encycl.  Foptil.,  t.  i.  p.  86. 

'"  Philo,  De  V'.ta  Contemplativa,  lib.  i.  Compare  Pali.ad.,  Hist.  Lausi 
aca,  c.  7. 


IN   THE    EAST.  '  169 

scribed  the  pure  and  self-denying  life  of  the  Therapeutists ; 
he  shows  them  inhabiting  cells  upon  an  eminence  beyond  the 
Lake  Moeris,  precisely  upon  the  Mount  Nitria,  so  celebrated 
since  then  in  the  history  of  the  Fathers  of  the  desert.  Euse- 
bins,  it  is  known,  made  them  out  to  be  Christians,  and  the 
evangelist  St.  Mark  has  been  supposed  their  founder.^i  This 
opinion  appears  ill-founded.  It  is  difficult,  however,  not  to 
see  in  these  solitaries  the  direct  precursors  of  the  monastic 
order. 

But  it  belonged  to  the  Gospel  to  fertilize,  to  per-  j„tiie 
feet,  and  to  perpetuate  these  examples.  The  words  gosp'^'I- 
of  the  Redeemer,  the  Son  of  God,  are  express.  He  said  to 
the  young  noble,  whom  he  loved  at  the  first  glance,  and  v>rho 
asked  of  him  the  way  to  life  eternal  —  "One  thing  thou 
lackest :  go  thy  way,  sell  whatsoever  thou  hast,  and  give  to 
the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven :  and  come, 
take  up  the  cross,  and  follow  me." ^^  And  again  —  "There 
is  no  man  that  hath  left  house,  or  brethren,  or  sisters,  or 
father,  or  mother,  or  wife,  or  children,  or  lands,  for  my  sake, 
and  the  gospel's,  but  he  shall  receive  an  hundred-fold  now  in 
this  time,  houses,  and  brethren,  and  sisters,  and  mothers,  and 
children,  and  lands,  with  persecutions ;  and  in  the  world  to 
come,  eternal  life."  ^^  Since  these  divine  words  were  diffused 
through  the  world,  men  have  been  found,  who,  far  from  being 
repelled  by  the  sternness  of  the  language,  or  saddened  as  he 
was  who  heard  it  first,i^  have  felt  in  it  a  sweetness  and  at- 
traction beyond  all  the  seductions  of  the  world,  and  Avho, 
throwing  themselves  in  a  multitude  into  the  narrow  way, 
have  undertaken  to  prove  that  there  is  nothing  impracticable 
to  human  weakness  in  the  counsels  of  evangelical  perfection. 
This  has  been  found  to  be  the  case  during  eighteen  centuries, 
and  is  still  so,  despite  the  dislike  and  prohibitions  of  the  false 
wisdom  of  modern  times.     Governed  by  these  words  ^, 

n     t        /~i  11  -11  •  r     1  ^  '    The  monas- 

ot  the  Gospel,  the  most  illustrious  lathers,  doctors,  tic  iiie 
and    councils,   have    declared    religious   life   to   be  byje"u8 
founded  by  Jesus  Christ  himself,  and  first  practised  C''"^*- 
by  His  apostles.     The   highest  authorities  have  agreed   tc 

"  S.  HiEKONYM.,  Be  Script.  Eccles.  in  Marco;  Edseb.,  ITist.  Ecclesiast., 
17.  St.  Epiphanius,  Sozonienes,  Cassianus,  say  the  same.  Compare  D.  Cal- 
MET,  Diet,  de  la  Bible,  v"  Tlierapeutes  ;  Henric.  Valesh,  Annot.  in  Euseb., 
p.  35.     Compare  Doellinger,  Heidenthum,  nnd  Judenthum,  p.  759. 

'^  Mark  x.  '21.     Compare  Matth.  xix.  21 :  Luke  xviii.  22. 

'^  Mark  x.  29,  30. 

"  "  This  is  a  hard  saying."  —  John  vi.  60.     **  And  he  was  sad  at  that  say- 
ing, and  went  away  grieved  :  for  he  had  great  possessions."  —  Mark  x.  22. 
VOL.  L  15 


170  MONASTIC   PEECURSOES 

recognize  that  it  was  born  with  the  Church,  and  that  it  hag 
never  ceayed  to  co-exist  with  aer.^^ 

It  may  be  said  of  it,  as  of  the  Church  herself,  that  it  exists 
by  right  divine. ^^ 

We  know  with  certainty,  by  the  narrative  of  the  Acts  of 
the  Apostles,  that  the  first  Christians  lived  as  the  monks 
have  lived  since.  Coming  forth  from  the  guest-chamber, 
they  to  whom  had  been  given  the  happiness  of  seeing  the 
Lord  Jesus  with  their  own  eyes,  and  who  listened  every  day 
to  tlie  words  of  the  apostles,  had  but  one  heart  and  one  soul: 
the}^  put  everything  in  common  —  fortune,  prayer,  labor  — 
they  sold  all  their  goods  to  consecrate  the  produce  to  the 
common  need,  and  thus  destroyed  at  a  blow  both  poverty  and 
riches.  It  is  said  expressly,  and  more  than  ome  repeated, 
that  all  who  believed  lived  in  this  fashion. i"  History  has  not 
recorded  how  these  bonds  relaxed  and  were  dissolved  at  last, 
but  we  can  understand  how  tliey  became  impossible,  in  pro- 
portion as  the  number  of  Christians  increased,  and  in  presence 
of  family  rights  and  interests;  at  any  rate,  they  lasted  long 
enough  to  authorize  Eusebius  and  St.  Jerome  in  asserting 
that  the  first-known  monks  were  no  other  than  the  first  dis- 
ciples of  Jesus  Christ. 1^ 

We  might  even  affirm,  that  during  the  three  first  centuries 
all  Christians  retained  a  certain  monastic  character.  They 
were  austere  and  even  rigid  in  the  severity  of  their  faith  and 
the  young  ardor  of  their  enthusiasm.  They  remained  pure 
in  the  deptlis  of  universal  corruption.  Their  life  was  more 
or  less  hidden  amid  pagan  society.     They  were  of  that  old 

15  "  piiiiosophiam  a  Christo  introductam."  —  S.  Joan.  Chrysost.,  Horn.  17 
ad  Popul.  Antioch ;  S.  Hieron.,  Epist.  120  (alias  150),  118,  130.  "Primuni 
in  Ecclesia,  imo  a  quo  coepit  Ecclesia  .  .  .  cujus  apostoli  institutores  .  .  .  cx- 
stiterunt."  —  S.  Bernard..  Apolog.  ad  Guill.  AbbaL,  c.  10.  "  Coenobitaruin 
disciplina  a  tempore  praedicationis  apostolicas  suinpsit  exordium."'  —  Cassian., 
Collation,  18,  c.  5.  "  Sacrum  quoque  monasticuin  ordinem  a  Deo  inspiratutn, 
et  ab  ipsis  apostolis  fundatum." —  Cojicil.  ad  Theod.   Villam.,  an.  844,  c.  3. 

'*  "  Status  religiosus  secundum  se  et  quoad  substantiam  suam  ab  ipso 
Christo  immediate  traditus  et  institutus  fuit,  atque  ita  dici  potest  esse  de  jure 
divino,  uon  prtecipiente,  sed  consulente."  —  ^va.^'ez.,  Tractatus  vii.  lib.  3, 
c.  2. 

"'  "  And  all  that  believed  were  together;  and  had  all  things  common;  and 
sold  their  possessions  and  goods,  and  parted  them  to  all  men,  as  every  man 

had  need \nd  the   multitude  of  them  that  believed  were  of  one  heart 

and  of  one  soul :  neither  said  any  of  them  that  aught  of  the  things  which  he 
possessed  was  his  own  :  but  they  had  all  things  common.  .  .  .  Neither  waa 
there  any  among  them  that  lacked."  —  Acts  ii.  44,  4o ;  iv.   32,  34,  35,  37. 

"*  "  Ex  quo  apparet  talein  primum  Cliristo  ciedentium  fuisse  EcnlesiaM 
^uales  nunc  monachi  esse  nituntur  et  cupiuni."  —  De  Vir.  lllustr.,  c.  8. 


IN   THE    EAST.  171 

world  as  if  tfiey  had  not  been.  Then  came  persfacutions 
M'hich  shortened  the  way  to  heaven:  these  took  the  place  of 
penitence  and  trial.  The  dungeon  of  the  martyr  was  as  good, 
says  Tertullian,  as  the  cell  ofa  prophet.^^  In  the  intervals 
of  peace  which  the  persecutions  left  to  them,  the}'  bound 
themselves  to  exercises  and  penitences  which  have  since 
terrified  our  weakness.  There  were  besides  a  great  number 
among  them,  whom  a  desire  for  perfection  led  back  to  the 
self-abnegation  of  the  earliest  days.  These  devoted  theiQ- 
selves  to  the  practice  of  evangelical  precepts  by  renouncing 
marriage  and  property.  They  condemned  themselves  to 
fasts,  to  silence,  to  every  kind  of  auterity;  such  Christians, 
says  Bossuet,  were  solitary,  and  changed  towns  into  deserts.^" 
Sometimes,  indeed,  they  endeavored  to  live  thus  in  the  midst 
of  the  Christian  community ;  but  more  frequently  they  fled 
from  the  cities,  from  the  noise  and  commerce  of  men  absorbed 
in  the  cares  of  lucre  or  of  public  affiirs.  Thus,  far  from  all 
contact  with  the  crowd,  and  even  with  the  family,  they  drew 
near  to  God  and  the  Divine  Mediator,  who  had  so  recently 
shed  His  blood  upon  Calvary.  Their  example  was  always 
contagious,  and  this  tradition  was  never  interrupted  ;  each 
successive  generation  of  Christians  furnished  recruits  to  that 
race,  which  reproduced  itself  only  in  spirit.  The  name  of 
Ascetics^^  and  of  Anchorites^'^  and  even  that  of  3Ionks,^^  or 
solitaries,  was  bestowed  upon  them,  and  when  they  lived 
together,  their  common  dwelling  was  called  a  monastery ;^* 
it  was  then  a  condition  and  profession  admitted  in  the 
Church.25  Virgins  and  widows,  inspired  by  the  love  of  God, 
rivalled  these  venerable  men  in  courage,  austerity,  and  peni- 
tence, and,  like  them,  formed  themselves  into  communities. 
Both  were  regarded  everywhere  as  the  flower  of  that  harvest 
which  the  Son  of  man  came  to  gather  on  earth. 

'®  "  Hoc  praestat  career  Christiano  quod  eremus  prophetis."  —  Tertoll., 
Ad  Mariyres. 

*•  Se'^'moJi  SUV  les  Obligations  de  la  Vie  Religieuse. 

*'  From  (ifTKtjrT/c,  exercise. 

**  From  avu/vwiw,  to  put  one's  self  apart,  to  withdraw. 

^'^  See  above,  p.  166. 

^*  i»ioi«r5r/,'5'oi,  place  for  living  alone;  this  was  the  name  which  was  for- 
merly given,  according  to  Dollinger,  to  the  oratories  of  the  Therapeutists. 

*'  Dom  Bulteau,  in  i)ook  i.  of  his  Essai  de  V Histoi.re  Monastique  d' Orient, 
Paris,  1080.  has  collected  numerous  testimonies  taken  from  the  Fathers  and 
Greek  chronologies,  which  prove  the  perpetuity  of  the  ascetic  life  during  the 
first  centuries  of  the  Church,  but  he  acknowledges  that  all  these  authoritiei 
are  not  equally  reliable. 


172  MONASTIC    PKECURSORS 

Develop-  But  the  time  arrived  when  this  germ  was  to  de- 

monasuc  velop  itself  with  prodigious  fertility.  This  wns  at 
life  before  the  period  of  the  last  persecutions  and  first  inva- 
of^he'^*'*'  sions  of  the  Barbarians,  between  the  reign  of  Decius 
Church.  ,^^^^  that  of  Diocletian.  All  at  once  the  dcierts  were 
filled  with  solitaries,  who  sought  there  a  refuge  from  Roman 
corruption,  from  the  cruelty  of  the  C^sars,  and  from  the  bar- 
barify  of  the  future  victors  of  Rome.  And  the  empire  learned 
that  besides  the  Christians,  who,  mingled  with  pagans,  formed 
already  the  half  of  the  world,  thei"e  existed  immense  reserves 
of  men,  still  more  ardently  devoted  to  the  new  law.  The 
monks  appeared.  They  came  at  the  appointed  moment  to 
replace  the  martyrs  and  to  restrain  the  Barbarians. 

And  more  than  one  monk  began  by  claiming  liis  place 
among  the  martyrs.^^  There  were  even  nuns  whose  names 
are  reckoned  among  those  ''mmortal  virgins,  whose  tortures 
and  invincible  resistance  to  pagan  lust  and  cruelty  form  one 
of  the  most  heroic  pages  of  the  history  of  the  Church.  We 
must  quote,  at  least,  one  glorious  example.  During  the  per- 
secution of  Diocletian,  there  was  at  Nisibis  in  Mesopotamia^^ 
a  monastery  of  fifty  virgins.  One  of  them,  Febronia,  aged 
twenty-five,  was  celebrated  at  once  for  the  marvellous  bril- 
liancy of  her  beauty ,28  the  extreme  austerity  of  her  life,-^  the 
depth  of  her  ascetic  knowledge,  and  the  eloquent  exhorta- 
tions which  the  noble  matrons  of  the  town  came  every 
Friday  to  hear  from  her  lips.  But  out  of  respect  for  the 
modesty  and  reserve  of  her  spiritual  daughter,  the  abbess 
caused  a  veil  to  be  held  before  the  seat  of  the  young  nun 
when  she  spoke,  so  that  she  had  never  been  seen  from  her 
most  tender  infancy,  not  only  by  any  man,  but  even  by  any 
woman  of  the  world.^^     The  young  widow  of  a  senator,  still 

'"  Dom  Bulteau  quotes  numerous  examples  of  these  (op.  cit.),  but  witli 
some  reserve,  founded  on  the  doubtful  worth  of  the  Greek  Church  calendars. 

^'  Accorduiii;  to  others,  at  Sibapte,  in  Syria. 

"*  *'  Quas  diligenter  in  ascetica  erudiebat  palestra.  Haac  formosa  admodura 
et  corporis  proceritate  spectabilis,  tanta  excellebat  venustate  vultus,  ut  flori- 
dam  speciei  talis  elegantiam  nuUus  ooulus  satis  possit  exprimere.  Fama,  ex- 
cellentia  doctrinis,  celebrem  tota  urlie  Febroniaui  reddcret." —  Vita  et  Mar- 
tyrium  S.  Fehronice,  auct.  Tliomaide,  teste  oculato,  in  Greek  and  Latin,  ap. 
Act.  SB.  Bollaxdist.,  torn.  v.  Junii,  p.  19-25. 

'^^  She  ate  only  every  alternate  day,  and  slept  on  a  plank,  a  handbreadth 
and  a  half  broad  —  "  sesquipalmum."  —  Ibid. 

^''  "  Adolescentula  admodum  studiosa,  facta  est  multiscia.  Sextis  feriis, 
cum  in  oratorio  'jonvenissentsorores,  jubebat  Bryena  ut  illis  Febronia  legeret, 
quoniam  autem  matronse  nobiles  tali  die  ad  orationem  idem  confluebant 
tpiritualis  doctrina;  gratia,  jubebat  Bryena  velum  tendi,  post  quod  lectioQem 
perageret  ilia."  —  Hid.,  &c.,  p.  19 ;  compare  p.  25. 


IN   THE    EAST.  173 

A  pagan,  and  destined  by  her  family  to  a  second  marriage, 
desired,  at  any  risk,  to  make  acquaintance  with  this  learned 
and  pious  nun,  and  introduced  herself"  into  the  convent  under 
the  disguise  of  a  foreign  sister.  They  passed  an  entire  night 
in  reading  the  Gospel  and  conferring  upon  Christian  doc- 
trine, embraced  each  other  and  wept  together,  and  the  sena- 
tor's wife  left  the  convent  converted  to  the  faith  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  determined  to  preserve  the  chastity  of  her 
widowhood.  "  Who  then,"  said  Febronia  to  the  abbess,  "  was 
that  travelling  nun,  who  wept  as  if  she  had  never  heard  the 
holy  Scriptures  explained  before?"  "It  was  Hieria,"  an- 
swered the  abbess  —  "  Hieria,  the  widow  of  the  senator.'^ 
"  Ah  !  "  said  Febronia, "  why  did  you  not  tell  me  ?  for  1  spoke 
to  her  as  to  a  sister."  ^^  The  noble  widow  became  in  truth 
the  sister  and  friend  of  the  nun  :  she  remained  with  her  dur- 
ing a  serious  illness  which  confined  Febronia  to  the  narrow 
plank  of  wood  on  which  she  took  her  repose,  and  prevented 
her  from  fleeing,  with  the  bishop,  the  clergy,  the  monks,  and 
most  of  her  companions,  when  Selenus,  the  minister  of  im- 
perial cruelty,  charged  with  the  execution  of  the  decrees 
against  the  Christians,  arrived  at  Nisibis.  Denounced  be- 
cause of  her  beauty,  Febronia  was  dragged  before  the  tri- 
bunal of  the  persecutor :  he  asked  her  if  she  was  free  or  a 
slave  :  she  answered,  "  A  slave,  and  the  slave  of  Christ."  ^^ 
Stripped  of  her  garments,  and  given  up  to  all  the  tortures 
which  the  rage  of  expiring  paganism  had  invented  against 
Christian  weakness  and  modesty,  she  endured  their  insults 
and  torments  with  a  heroic  calm.  The  judge  reproached  her 
with  making  so  much  account  of  her  beauty  that  she  did  not 
blush  at  her  nudity.  "  My  Christ  knows  well,"  said  she, 
"  that  till  this  day  1  have  not  seen  the  iace  of  a  man.  But 
thou,  insensate  judge,"  added  the  victim,  with  that  boldness 
which  we  find  in  the  acts  of  Agatha,  of  Agnes,  and  of  Cecilia, 
"  tell  me  what  athlete  presents  himself  at  the  Olympian 
games  without  disrobing  himself?  and  does  he  not  remain 
naked  until  he  has  vanquished  his  adversar}'?  To  work 
then,  that  1  may  strive  against  thy  father  the  devil,  to  the 

''  "  Post  mutua  itorum  oscula  ct  reciprocas  lacrymas  :  Obsecro  te,  mater, 
qiuenam  fuit  ilia  peregrina  monacha ;  in  cui  Thoinais  :  Ipsa  est  Hieria  sena- 
tiix.  Eece  eiiim  tanquain  sorori  locuta  sum  ei."  —  Vita  et  Martyrium  S. 
Febronice,  &o.,  p.  19;  compare  p.  25. 

■'^  '•  Quidam  pessimorum  militum  cursim  accessit  ad  Selenum,  nuntiavitque 
ei  quod  iiivenla  sit  in  nionasterio  puella  formosissima.  Die  mihi,  adolescen- 
tula.  cujus,  eonditicinis  es,  serva  an  libera?  Serva,  inquit Febronia.  Cujus' 
nam  -"ero?  inquit  ille.     HiEC  vero,  Christi."  —  Ibid.,  pp.  2i,  26. 

15 -^^ 


174  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

(scorn  of  all  tliy  torments.''  ^^  Her  teeth  and  her  tongue  were 
torn  from  her  mouth  in  succession  ;  her  breasts,  her  feet,  and 
her  hands  were  cut  off.  The  old  abbess,  who  witnessed  ai  a 
distance  the  progress  of  that  cruel  struggle,  uttc/ed  gieat 
cries,  and  prayed  with  a  loud  voice  in  the  Syriar.  language 
that  her  dear  Febronia  might  resist  to  the  end;  the  people 
uttered  anathemas  on  Diocletian  and  his  gods.  Hlcria  ad- 
dressed public  imprecations  to  the  wretch  Selenus.^  Finally 
the  heroic  virgin  was  beheaded.  Her  blood  was  the  seed 
not  only  of  Christians,  but  of  the  religious.  The  two  nephews 
of  Selenus  declared  themselves  Christians,  and  embraced 
monastic  life  ;  and  the  noble  Hieria,  giving  herself  and  all 
her  possessions  to  the  monastery,  deposited  her  bracelets, 
her  jewels,  and  all  her  ornaments,  in  the  coffin  of  her  friend  ; 
then  throwing  herself  on  her  knees  before  the  abbess, "  Take 
me,"  said  she,  "  I  beg  of  you,  my  mother  —  take  me  for  your 
servant  instead  of  Febronia."  ^^ 

Febronia  was  henceforward  quoted  b}''  the  bishops  of  Meso- 
potamia as  the  model  of  nuns.  The  anniversary  of  her  agony 
became  the  great  fete  of  the  monasteries  of  that  country. 
Her  life  was  written  by  a  nun  who  had  been  an  eyewitness 
of  her  martyrdom  ;  and  tradition  records,  that  at  the  nightly 
prayers,  the  spirit  of  the  holy  martyr  was  seen  to  reappear 
in  her  place  in  the  choir,  as  if  to  join  her  sisters  in  their  de- 
votions.^^ 

But  Constantine  succeeded  to  Diocletian.  The  peace  of 
the  Churcli  was  proclaimed.  Such  sufferings  became  rare 
and  exceptional.  The  martyrs  had  accomplished  their  mis- 
sion :  the  monks  rose  up  to  continue  their  work.  There  re- 
mained, indeed,  under  a  different  form,  the  same  war  to  wage, 
the  same  enemy  to  vanquish.  "  The  persecution,"  says  Bos- 
suet,  *'  made  fewer  solitaries  than  the  peace  and  triumph  of 

^^  "  Impudens,  scio  quod  gloriaris  ea,  qua  polles,  pulchritndine,  et  ideo 
nee  ignominiaui  reput.as  nuditateru  corporis  tui,  sed  decorum  reputas  ita  te 
nudam  conspici.  Novit  Chrifitus  meus  quod  usque  modo  nunquam  viri  facieni 
cognoverim.  Die  niilii,  stulte,  et  insensate  judex,  quis  in  Olympiaco  decer- 
taturus  agone,  luctus  aggressus  est  unquam  vestimentis  indutus?  Eia! 
quandonaiu  congrediar  cum  patre  tuo  diabolo,  tua  conteninens  tormenta?  " 
—  Vita  et  Martyrium  S.  Fehronice,  &c.,  p.  27- 

*■•  "  Diu  sic  orans  prostravit  se  Immi  atque  clamabat,  Bra,  Bra,  Bra,  dia- 
lecto,  Syriaca.  Non  pauci  abibant  clamantes  anatliema  Diocletiano  et  diis 
ejus." —  Ibid.,  pp.  29,  '62. 

^*  "  Obsecro  te,  mater  mea,  suscioe  me  famulara  tuam  in  locum  Febroniae.' 
■—  Ibid. 

^*  "  Tales  oportet  esse  monasteriorum  praefectas.  .  .  .  Apparet  S.  Febnia 
in  loco  suo,  .  .  .  psallentum  cum  sororibus.  "  —  Ibid.,  pp  33,  35. 


IN    THE    EAST.  175 

the  Churcli,  The  Christians,  who  were  so  simple,  and  such 
enemies  to  luxury,  feared  a  peace  which  flattered  the  senyea 
more  than  they  had  feared  the  cruelty  of  tyrants.  The  deserts 
became  peopled  by  innumerable  angels  who  lived  in  mortal 
bodies  without  holding*  to  the  earth."  ^'^ 

The  most  trustworthy  judgment  accordingly  ac-  The  monks 
cepts  the  end  of  the  third  century  as  the  period  of  ^'-^^syp^- 
the  regular  constitution  of  the  monastic  order.  Egypt,  that 
anli  jue  and  mysterious  cradle  of  history,  that  land  already 
consecrated  in  the  memory  of  Christians  as  having  been  tlie 
prison  of  the  people  of  God  and  the  refuge  of  the  infant  Jesus 
and  His  mother  — Egypt  was  again  chosen  to  be  the  cradle 
of  the  new  world,  created  by  Christian  faith  and  virtue. 
Monastic  life  was  finally  inaugurated  there,  amid  the  deserts, 
by  the  Pauls,  the  Anthonys,  the  Pacomes,  and  their  numer- 
ous disciples.  These  were  the  founders  of  that  vast  empire 
which  has  lasted  to  our  own  days,  the  great  captains  of  the 
permanent  warfare  of  soul  against  flesh,  the  heroic  and  im- 
mortal models  offered  to  the  reljgious  of  all  ages.  Their  mi- 
raculous conversions,  their  poverty,  literally  evangelical,  Iheir 
labors,  their  prodigious  austerities,  and  their  miracles,  have 
been  bequeathed  to  posterity  in  immortal  lines  by  the  elo- 
quence of  St.  Athanasius,  St.  Jerome,  and  St.  Eplirem. 

In  a  book  exclusively  devoted  to  the  monks  of  the  West, 
even  the  merest  sketch  of  the  monastic  history  of  the  East 
ought  not  to  be  expected.  Besides,  who  has  not  read  the 
Lives  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Desert? ^^     Who  is  so  ignorant  or 

•'■  Discourse  on  tlie  Advantages  and  Duties  of  the  Religious  Life.  This 
discourse  is  attributed  by  some  to  Bossuet,  by  others  to  Fenelon. 

^^  Tlie  last  version  of  the  precious  collection,  entitled  Vita  Patrum,  sive 
HistoricB  Ertmeticce,  libri  x.,  published  by  F.  Herbert  Rosweyde,  Jesuit,  at 
Antwerp,  in  1628,  is  certainly  one  of  the  noblest  of  existing  books,  and  well 
wortiiy  of  the  illustrious  monk  who  first  conceived  the  plan  of  the  Acta  Sanc- 
torum, which  his  brethren  the  BoUandistes  have  carried  out.  He  has  col- 
lected in  this  folio  all  the  bio-jraphies  and  authentic  notices  of  the 
fathers  of  the  desert,  dividing  them  into  ten  books.  The  first  contains 
the  lives  of  the  principal  patriarchs  of  the  Thebaid,  written  by  St.  Jerome, 
St.  Athanasius.  St.  Ephreni,  and  others;  also  those  of  the  holy  women  of  the 
same  time  —  Eugenia,  Euphrasia,  Thais.  Pelagia,  &c.  The  second  and  third 
are  the  woi'k  of  liuflSnus,  priest  of  Aquileia,  and  companion  of  St.  Melania 
in  her  pilgrimage  to  tlie  Ijast;  they  comprise  biographical  notices,  less  ex- 
tended but  more  numerous  than  those  of  the  first  book.  The  fourth  is  com- 
posed of  anecdotes  extracted  from  the  Dialogues  of  Sulpieius  Severus,  and 
from  tlie  Institutes  and  Collations  of  John  Cassianus.  The  fifth,  sixth,  and 
seventh  books  —  translations  from  the  Greek  by  the  Roman  deacons  Pelagius 
and  John  Paschasius  —  contain  maxims  and  examples  borrowed  from  the  life 
of  the  Fathers,  and  arranged  according  to  their  contents,  under  the  title  of 
various  virtues.     The  eighth,  which  bears  the  special  name  of  Historia  Law 


176  MONASTIC   PiiECURSORS 

unfortunate  as  not  to  have  devoured  these  narratives  of  the 
heroic  ago  of  monasticism?  Who  has  not  breathed  with 
dehght  the  perfume  of  these  flowers  of  solitude?  Who  has 
not  contemplated,  if  not  with  the  eyes  of  faith,  at  least  with 
the  admiration  which  is  inspired  by  an  indisputable  grandeur 
of  soul,  the  struggles  of  these  athletes  of  penitence,  and  even 
the  marvellous  histories  of  those  lost  women  who,  having  in 
vain  essayed  to  corrupt  them,  showed  themselves  worthy  of 
imitating,  and  capable  sometimes  even  of  surpassing  them,  by 
prodigies  of  penitence  and  sanctity?  The  reader  of  these 
nari-atives  cannot  la}^  them  down.^^  Everything  is  to  be 
found  there  :  variety,  pathos,  the  epic  sublimity  and  sim- 
plicity of  a  race  of  men  artless  as  infants  and  strong  as 
giants.  They  have  made  the  Thebaid  an  immortal  and 
poj)ular  name  ;  they  have  reduced  the  enemies  of  truth  to 
the  homage  of  silence  ;  and,  even  in  our  uncertain  and  de- 
bilitated age,  the}'  have  found  eloquent  panegyrists  among 
the  most  celebrated  and  sincere  writers  of  our  day.^'' 
St.  An-  Though    we    scarcely  cast   a   glance    upon  that 

thony  the    glorious    crowd,    vct   from  the   midst   of    it    rises 

first  ubbot      ^  '     •/ 

—     '  a  figure    so   universally  renowned,  that  we    must 

250-356.      pause  to  contemplate  him.     It  is  Anthony.     Young, 

rich,  and  noble,  at  twenty  years  old  he  heard  that  text  of  the 

Gospel  read  in  a  church,  **  If  thou  wouldst  be  perfect,"  &c., 

siaca,  is  a  collection  addressed  to  the  prefect  Lausus  by  Palladius,  afterwards 
Bishop  of  Helenopolis  in  Bithynia,  who  was  in  Egypt  about  390,  and  spent 
three  years  in  visiting  the  hermits;  the  narrative  of  ail  that  he  saw  and  heard 
there,  forms  one  of  the  most  precious  portions  of  tlie  collection.  The  ninth, 
which  we  owe  to  Theodoret,  bishop  of  Cyr,  is  devoted  to  the  holy  liermits  of 
Asia.  Tiie  tenth,  which  is  the  work  of  a  Greek  monk  of  the  sixtli  century, 
Jean  Moschus,  and  bears  the  special  title  of  Pratum  Spirituale,  or  Paradisus 
Novus,  is  similar.  —  Of  all  exi:iting  French  translations  of  the  Life  of  the 
Fathers,  the  best  is  that  of  Rene  Gautier,  published  in  the  early  part  of  tlie 
seventeenth  century,  and  strongly  impressed  with  the  charm  and  energy  of 
the  French  of  that  period. 

•*'  When  the  literature  of  our  century  was  in  its  most  degraded  condition, 
under  the  first  empire,  it  is  pleasing  to  find  these  words  in  a  letter  of  the  hon- 
est and  courageous  Duels  :  "  My  dear  friend,  I  am  reading  the  Lives  of  the 
Fathers  of  the  Desert :  I  am  dwelling  with  St.  Pacome,  founder  of  the  mon- 
astery of  Tabenne.  Truly,  there  is  a  charm  in  transporting  one's  self  to  that 
land  of  the  angels  :  one  would  not  wish  ever  to  come  out  of  it." 

■*"  MM.  de  Chateaui)riand,  Villemain,  St.  Marc  Girardin,  Franz  de  Chara- 
pagny,  Albert  de  Broglie.  We  should  add  to  these  names  that  of  the 
lamented  Moehler,  the  most  illustrious  of  modern  German  theologians.  The 
second  volume  of  his  Melanges  contains  a  History  of  the  Origin  and  First 
Developments  of  the  Monastic  Order,  written  in  1836.  If  he  had  continued 
this  work,  which  extends  only  to  a  hundred  pages,  and  stops  at  the  fifth  cen- 
tury, another  great  work  would  have  been  added  to  Catholic  literature,  and 
it  would  only  hare  remained  to  us  to  translate  it. 


IN   THE   EAST.  177 

and  he  applied  it  to  himself.  He  sold  his  three  hundred 
acres  of  rich  land/^  and,  giving  the  price  to  the  poor,  plunged 
into  the  desert  to  seek  God  and  His  salvation  there.  There 
he  lived  at  first  alone,  in  a  painful  and  incessant  struggle 
against  the  cruel  temptations  of  the  devil  and  the  flesh.  At 
length  he  succeeded  in  overcoming  the  sensual  ardor  of  his 
youth  by  fasting,  macerations,  and,  above  all,  by  prayer, 
*•  that  prayer  as  long  as  the  night,"  says  Bossuet,  which 
absorbed  his  nights  so  much  as  to  make  him  dread  the  day. 
"  Oh,  sun  !  "  he  said  at  one  time  when  that  orb  flooded  him 
with  its  light,  in  the  midst  of  his  praj-ers,  "  wherefore  dost 
thou  rise  alread}',  and  turn  me  from  contemplating  the  splen- 
dor of  the  true  light?"  At  thirty-five  the  battle  was  gained. 
In  subduing  his  body,  he  attained  freedom  of  souL^s  He 
crossed  the  Nile,  and  went  deeper  still  into  the  most  un- 
known deserts.  There  he  passed  other  twenty  years  in  the 
ruins  of  an  old  castle.  That  long  and  happy  solitude  was 
disturbed  by  the  disciples  who  gathered  round  him,  by  the 
neigliboring  hermits  who  came  to  ask  him  the  secrets  of  the 
knowledge  of  God.  Pilgrims  of  all  nations  brought  their  in- 
firmities to  him  to  be  cured,  their  consciences  to  be  purified. 
The  .Neo-Platonic  philosophers  carried  their  doubts  and 
objections  to  him,  and  found  in  him  the  subtile  and  vigorous 
defender,  ingenious  and  eloquent,  of  Redemption.^-^  They 
gathered  and  established  themselves  round  him ;  ^j,  ^ 
they  remained  there  to  imitate  and  obey  him  ;  he  cenobitic 
became  the  father  and  head  of  all  the  anchorites  of  ^^^'^' 
the  Thebaid,  whom  he  thus  transformed  into  cenobites.^  In 
governing  them  by  his  example  and  instructions,  he  substi- 
tuted for  an  isolated  existence  the  life  in  common  so  neces- 
sary to  break  down  pride,  and  to  fortify,  enlighten,  and 
animate  fervor.  He  guided  them  at  once  in  the  culture  of 
the  soul  and  in  the  labor  of  the  hands,  a  double  and  inces- 
sant activity  which  was  henceforward  to  fill  their  life.  An- 
thony became  the  first  of  the  abbots,  and,  like  Abraham,  the 
father  of  a  great  people  which  should  have  no  end. 

He  issued  from  the  desert  only  to  combat  paganism  and 
heresy.     He  went  to  Alexandria,  at  first  to  encourage  the 

■•'  "  Arurae  autem  erant  ei  trecentse  uberes,  et  valde  optiraae."  —  S.  Athan., 
Vit.  S.  Anton.,  c.  2.  "  The  arura  was  a  measure  of  superfices  used  in 
Egypt."  —  V.  RosTVEYDE,  Onomasticon,  p.  1014. 

**  "Tantam  animae  libertatem."  —  S.  Athan.,   Vit.  S.  Ant.,  c.  22. 

*3  Tbid.,  c.  44-49. 

**  From  Koiios,  common,  and  Si6w,  to  live. 


178  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

Christians  there,  and  to  seek  martyrdom  for  himself  during 
the  persecution  of  Maximin  ;  he  returned  there 
at  the  head  of  an  army  of  monks,  to  preach  in  the 
public  haunts  against  the  Arians,  and  bear  witness  to 
the  divinity  of  Christ.  He  thus  confronted  at  once  two 
great  enemies,  pagan  corruption  and  heresy.  After  having 
braved  the  imperial  magistrates,  dared  their  soldiers,  and 
refuted  their  arguments,  he  well  deserved  to  have  for  his 
guest,  friend,  disciple,  and  biographer,  the  immortal  Atha- 
nasius,  the  great  bishop  and  eloquent  doctor,  who,  at  the  cost 
of  so  many  sufferings,  saved  the  true  faith,  and  secured  the 
triumph  of  the  decrees  of  Nicaea.  The  Emperor  Constantino 
and  his  sons  wrote  to  Anthony  humbly  as  to  their  father, 
recommending  to  him  the  destinies  of  the  new  Rome.  He 
was  proclaimed  the  bulwark  of  orthodoxy,  the  light  of  the 
world.  The  very  sight  of  him  excited  popular  enthusiasm 
everywhere;  pagans,  and  even  the  priests  of  the  idols, 
gathered  round  his  path,  crying,  "  Let  us  see  the  man  of 
God."  ^5  But  he  hastened  to  return  to  his  Thebaid.  "  The 
fish  die,"  said  he,  "when  they  are  drawn  to  land,  and  the 
monks  lose  their  strength  in  towns  :  let  us  return  quickly  to 
our  mountains,  like  fish  to  the  water."  ^^  He  completed  his 
life  (here  in  the  midst  of  an  always  increasing-  stream  of 
disciples  and  pilgrims,  who  received  his  instructions  in  the 
Egyptian  language,  and  who  admired  even  the  unalterable 
beauty  of  his  features,  which  age  did  not  destroy,^"  and 
especially  his  gayety,  his  joyous  and  winning  affabilit}^,  in- 
fallible sign  of  a  soul  which  soars  into  serene  regions.  He 
left  to  his  brethren,  in  a  memorable  discourse,  the  narrative 
of  his  long  battles  with  the  devil,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
code  of  virtues  and  graces  which  are  necessary  to  the  soli- 
tary  life.*^  Finally,  he  died  more  than  a  hundred 
years  old,  after  having  established  by  his  example, 
and  by  his  immense  popularity,  the  influence  and  grandeur 
of  the  monastic  life. 


4s  "Precamur  ut  videamus  honiinera  Dei:  quia  hoc  apud  universos  con- 
spicimm  erat  nomen  Antonii." — S.  Athan.,   Vit.  S.  Ant.,  c.  42. 

*^  "  Ut  pisces  ad  mare,  ita  nos  ad  montem  festinemus."  —  S.  Athan.,  Vit. 
S.  Ant  ,  c.  53. 

*''  "  Obstupuerunt  universi  cleri  gratiani,  quasi  nihil  temporis  exegisset,  an- 
tiquus  nieinbrorum  decor  perseveravit.  Nihil  asperuni  quotidiana  cum  hos- 
tibuj  bella  contulerant.  .  .  .  Semper  hilarem  faciera  gerens,  jucundus  atque 
affabilis."  — /iic?.,  c.  13,  40. 

**  Ibid.,  c.  15  to  20. 


IN    THE    EAST.  179 


Near  him  stands  Paul,  who  had  preceded  liim   by      st.  Paul, 

tlio  first 
hermit. 


twenty  years  in  the  desert;  Paul,  the  most  illustrious      t''^' first 


and  constant  of  anchorites,  who  is  considered  the 
founder  of  that  eremetical  life  which  the  great  An- 
thony adopted,  transformed,  and  replaced  by  the  cenobltic. 
Discovered  by  Anthony  in  his  cavern,  in  the  shade  of  the 
palm  which  furnished  him  with  food  and  clothing,  he  offered 
to  him  that  hospitality  which  histor}^  and  poetry  have  vied  '^^ 
in  celebrating,  and  died  bequeathing  to  him  that  tunic  of 
palm  leaves,  with  which  Anthony  invested  himself,  on  the 
solemn  days  of  Easter  and  Pentecost,  as  with  tlie  armor  of 
a  hero  dead  in  the  arms  of  victory. 

Then   comes   Pacome,  younger  than  St.  Anthony   gj  p.^go^e 
by  forty  years,  but  dead  before  him.     Born  a  pagan,   author  of 
a  soldier  under  Constantino   before  he  was  a  monk,   writteii 
he  practised  in  solitude  a  discipline  a  hundred  times   J^'icf**^'" 
more  austere  than  that  of  camps ;  during  fifteen  years      .29"^s 
he   never  laid   down,  but  slept  only  standing,  sup- 
ported against  a  wall,  or  half-seated  upon  a  stone  bench,  after 
days    of  the    hardest  labor,  as    a  Crarpenter,  a  mason,  or  a 
cleanser  of  pits.     He  gave  to  the  cenobites,  whom  Anthony 
had  governed  by  his  oral  instruction  and   example,  a  written 
rule  complete  and  minute,  the  very  words  of  which  had  been 
brought  to  him  from  heaven  by  an  angel.^^     He  founded  upon 
the  Nile,  at  Tabenne,^^  in  the  higher  Thebaid,  the  first  mon- 
astery properly  so  called,  or  rather  a  congregation  of  eiglit 
monasteries,^^  each  governed  by  an  abbot,  but  united  by  a  close 
tie,  and  placed  under  the  same  genei'al  superior.    These  were 
filled  by  many  thousands  of  monks ;  and  when  Athanasius, 
already  celebrated  for  his    zeal  against  Arianism,   and   his 
glorious  struggles  with  the  Emperor  Constantius,  came  from 
Alexandria  and  went  up  the  Nile  to  visit,  as  far  as  the  higher 
Thebaid,  these  numerous  communities  whose  fidelity  appeared 

*^  St.  Jekome,   Vit.  S.  Pauli ;  Chateaubeiand,  Les  Martyrs,  book  xi. 

*"  Vit.  S.  rachomii,  c.  21.  The  text  of  this  rule  is  to  be  found  in  the 
valuable  collection  entitled,  Luc^  Holstenii.  Vatic,  Bihl.  PrcBfect.,  Codex 
Regularum  Monasticarum  et  Canonicarum,  etc.,  Aug.  Vindel.,  1769,  fol. 

"'  Tabeiine  was  in  the  diocese  of  Tentyra  (Denderah),  a  little  above  tlie 
first  cataract. 

*^  Every  monastery  of  Tabenne  was  divided  into  several  families,  accord- 
ing to  the  manual  labor  which  tlie  monks  pursued  who  composed  the  family  ; 
each  family  liad  its  prior,  and  was  subdivided  into  cells,  containing  each  three 
monks.  Several  of  these  monasteries  were  composed  of  from  thirty  to  forty 
families,  each  comprising  forty  monks  :  that  made  more  than  twelve  hundred 
in  each  monastery.     Others  numbered  only  from  two  to  three  hundred.  — 

Mo£HL£R,  I.    C. 


180  MONASTIC   PRFCUESORS 

to  him  the  principal  bulwark  of  orthodoxy,  Pacome  led  an 
immense  army  of"  monks,  his  own  presence  among  whom  he 
in  humility  concealed,  to  meet  the  stranger,  all  chanting 
hymn?,  and  burning  with  the  spirit  which  should  vanquish 
and  bury  all  the  heresies.  This  was  the  first  review  of  the 
new  army  of  the  Church.^^ 

For  his  purpose  was  indeed  to  train  soldiers,  or,  to  speak 
more  truly,  athletes  tried  and  invincible.  Let  us  listen  to 
the  words  which  he  desired  every  monk,  in  the  evening, 
before  lying  down  upon  his  bed,  to  address,  in  the  name  of 
his  soul>  to  all  the  members  of  liis  body,  apostrophizing  them 
one  after  another,  in  order  that  he  might  subdue  them  to  be 
only  pledges  of  obedience  to  the  divine  law,  and  weapons  of 
warfare  in  the  noble  service  of  God. 

"  While  we  are  still  together,  obey  me,  and  serve  the  Lord 
with  me,  for  the  time  approaches  when  you,  my  hands,  shall  no 
longer  be  able  to  thrust  yourselves  forth  and  seize  the  goods 
of  others,  nor  to  close  yourselves  to  strike  the  victim  of  your 
wrath  ;  the  time  when  you,  my  feet,  shall  be  no  more  able  to 
run  in  the  paths  of  iniquity.  Before  death  separates  us,  and 
while  this  separation,  brought  upon  us  by  the  sin  of  the 
first  man,  remains  unaccomplished,  let  us  fight,  let  us  per- 
severe, let  us  struggle  manfully,  let  us  serve  the  Lord  with- 
out torpor  or  idleness,  till  the  day  comes  when  He  will  wipe 
off  our  terrestrial  sweats,  and  conduct  us  to  an  immortal 
kingdom.  Weep,  my  eyes ;  and  thou,  my  flesh,  accomplish 
thy  noble  service  :  labor  with  me  in  prayer,  lest  the  seeking 
for  repose  and  sleep  should  end  in  perpetual  torments :  be 
vigilant,  sober,  laborious,  that  thou  ma^^est  merit  the  abun- 
dance of  good  things  reserved  for  thee,  and  that  eternity 
may  not  echo  forever  that  dismal  lamentation  of  the  soul 
to  the  body :  Alas  I  alas  !  why  was  I  ever  attached  to  thee, 
and  why  should  I  suffer,  because  of  thee,  an  eternal  con- 
demnation ?  "  ^ 

The  two  After  Pacome,  whom  all  agree  to  recognize  as  the 

Ammons.     fj^st  who  brought  mouastic  life  to  rule  and  order, 

*'  "Ingens  multitudo  fratrum.  ...  In  nionachorum  turmis  .  .  .  inter 
monachorum  agmina."  —  Vit.  S.  Pac/iom.,  c.  27. 

^*  "Cum  vespere  pervenitur  ad  stratum,  singulis  membris  corporis  sui 
dicat.  Manibus,  .  .  .  %'eniet  tenipus  .  .  .  quando  pugillus  administrator  ira- 
cundiae  non  erit.  •  .  .  Pedibus,  .  .  .  certemus,  fortitcr,  stemus  perseveran- 
ter,  viiiliter  dimicemus.  .  .  .  Fundite  lacrymas  oculi,  demonstra  caronobilem 
tuani  servitutem.  .  .  .  Et  tunc  audietur  ululatus  animae  deflentis  ad  corpus : 
Heu  me,  quia  colligata  sum  tibi,  et  propter  te  pocnam  perpetuae  condemnationis 
excipio." —  Vit.  S.  Pachomii,  c.  46. 


IN    THE    EAST.  181 

came  Ammon,  the  friend  of  Anthony's  youth,  rich,  like  lum, 
but  in  addition  married.  He  lived  for  eighteen  3'ears  with 
his  wife  as  a  sister,  then  retired  into  the  desert,  and  was 
first  to  found  a  communit}'  upon  the  celebrated  mountain  of 
Nitria,  at  the  confines  of  Libya,  where  more  than  five  thou- 
eand  monks  soon  collected  to  form  a  sort  of  religious  republic, 
where  they  might  live  in  labor  and  liberty .^^  Among  the^^e 
was  another  Ammon,  called  to  be  the  bishop  of  a  neighbor- 
ing city,  who  cut  off  his  right  ear,  in  order  to  escape  by  that 
mutilation  from  the  episcopate  which  would  have  been  forced 
upon  him.^*^ 

As  there  were  two  Ammons,  there  were  also  two  xiietwo 
Macarii;  one  called  the  Egyptian,  or  the  elder,  who  M^icra. 
was  first  to  establish  himself  in  the  vast  desert  of  Scute, 
between  Mount  Nitria  and  the  Nile ;  the  other  called  the 
Alexandrine,  who,  among  so  many  penitents,  distinguished 
himself  by  the  incredible  rigor  of  his  austerities.  To  sub- 
due the  rebellion  of  his  flesh,  he  obliged  himself  to  lemain 
six  months  in  a  marsh,  and  there  exposed  his  body  naked  to 
the  attacks  of  the  gnats  of  Africa,  whose  sting  can  pierce  even 
the  wild  boar's  hide.^"  He  also  wrote  a  system  of  rules  for 
the  use  of  the  solitaries  who  surrounded  him,  and  whose 
rigorous  abstinence  is  proved  by  the  f  ite  of  a  cluster  of  new 
grapes  offered  by  a  traveller  to  St.  Macarius.^^  Despite  his 
desire  to  taste  them,  he  gave  them  to  one  of  his  brethren 
who  was  at  work,  and  who  had  also  a  great  wish  for  them, 
but  who  offered  them  to  another,  who  in  his  turn  passed  them 
to  a  third.  The  tempting  cluster  passed  thus  Irom  hand  to 
hand  till  it  came  back  to  the  hands  of  Macarius,  vvho  gave 
thanks  to  God  for  that  universal  mortification,  and  threw  the 
grapes  far  from  him. 

These  two  patriarchs  of  the  western  deserts  of  Egypt  lived 
much  together ;  they  were  exiled  together  by  the  Arians, 
who  feared  their  zeal  for  orthodoxy.     They  crossed  the  Nile 

**  "  In  eo  habitant  ad  qninqne  millia  virorum,  qui  utuntur  vario  vitaa  genere, 
unusquisque  ut  potest  et  vult,  adeo  ut  liceat  et  solum  manere,  et  cum  duobus 
aut  tribus,  et  cum  quo  velit  numero."  —  Hist.  Lausiaca,  c.  7.  But  a  severe 
discipline  corrected  the  abuse  of  this  liberty.  There  is  to  be  seen  in  the 
principal  church  of  Mount  Nitria,  three  whips  or  scourges  to  chastise  on  the 
spot  monks,  robbers,  and  strangers,  who  shall  commit  any  crime  :  "  Adeo  ut 
quicumque  delinquunt  et  convincuntur,  palmam  amplectantur  et  ergo  pla^^s 
prsefinitas  accipiant  et  sic  dimittantur."  —  Ibid. 

*«  Ibid.,  c.  12. 

"  "  In  palude  Scetes,  in  qua  possunt  culices  vel  sauciare  pelles  aprorum  ' 
—  Hist.  Lausiaca,  c.  20. 

*"  "  Uvis  recentibus  perbellisque  ad  se  missis." 
VOL.  I.  16 


182  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

top;etlier  in  a  ferry-boat,  where  they  encountered  two  military 
tribunes,  accompanied  by  a  great  array  of  horses  with  deco- 
rated bridles,  of  equipages,  soldiers,  and  pages  covered  with 
ornaments.  The  officers  looked  long  at  the  two  monks  in 
their  old  dresses  humbly  seated  in  a  corner  of  the  bark. 
They  might  well  look  at  them,  for  in  that  bark  two  worlds 
stood  face  to  face :  old  Rome  degraded  by  the  emperors,  and 
the  new  Christian  republic,  of  which  the  monks  were  the  pre- 
cursors. As  they  approached  the  shore,  one  of  the  tribunes 
said  to  the  cenobites,  "  You  are  happy,  for  you  despise  the 
world."  "  It  is  true,"  answered  the  Alexandrine,  ''  we  despise 
the  world,  whilst  the  world  despises  you;  and  you  have 
spoken  more  truly  than  you  intended  ;  we  are  happ}"  in  fact 
and  in  name,  for  we  are  called  Macarius,  that  is  to  say,  happy 
^fiuy.uoing"^,''  The  tribune  made,  no  answer  ;  but,  returning 
to  his  house,  he  renounced  all  his  wealth  and  rank,  and  went 
to  seek  happiness  in  solitude.^^ 

The  The-  Thus  the  two  Thebaids  and   all  the  deserts  of 

itshiuu-  Egypt  were  peopled.  We  see  them  at  the  end  of 
inonMsUc  ^lic  lourth  ccutury  full  of  monks  and  monasteries, 
jjoijuuition.  united  among  themselves  from  that  period,  like  the 
modern  orders  and  congregations,  by  a  common  discipline,  by 
reciprocal  visits,  and  general  assemblies. 

Nothing  in  the  wonderful  history  of  these  hermits  of  Egypt 
is  so  incredible  as  their  number.  But  the  most  weighty 
authorities  agreed  in  establishing  it.^*^  It  was  a  kind  of  emi- 
gration of  towns  to  the  desert,  of  civilization  to  simplicity,  of 
noise  to  silence,  of  corruption  to  innocence.  The  current 
once  begun,  floods  of  men,  of  women,  and  of  children  threw 
themselves  into  it,  and  flowed  thither  during  a  century  with 
irresistible  force.  Let  us  quote  some  figures.  Pacome,  who 
died  at  fifty-six,  reckoned  three  thousand  monks  under  his 
rule ;  his  monasteries  of  Tabenne  soon  included  seven  thou- 
sand, and  St.  Jerome  affirms  that  as  many  as  fifty  thousand 
were  present  at  the  annual  gathering  of  the  general  congre- 
gation of  monasteries  which  followed  his  rule.^^ 

There  were,  as  we  have  just  said,  five  thousand  on  the 
mountain  of  Nitria  alone.  Nothing  was  more  frequent  than 
to  see  two  hundred,  three  hundred,  or  five   hundred   monks 

^*  '*  Accidit  ut  maximum  pontonem  intjrederentur.  .  .  .  Duo  tribuni  cura 
magno  fastu  2t  :ipi):iratu  .  .  .  rla'dain  totam  aeneum  .  .  .  piieros  turquibus 
et  aurcis  z(Miis  ornaios.  .  .  .  Benti  I'stis  vos  qui  mundum  iliuditis.  .  .  .  Noa 
i'.uujiu  mundum  illusimus,  vos  auteui  illusit  mundus."  —  Uiit.  Lausiaca,  loc 
cit. 

'''  S.  AuGUSTiN,  De  Morib.  Eccles.,  i.  31. 

*'    /'"c/.  in  Rtgul.  S.  I'achoni.,  ap.  IIolstein,  i.  25. 


IN    THE   EAST.  ]8S 

unJer  the  same  abbot.  Near  Arsinoe  (now  Suez),  l!io  al)bot 
!;>erapion  governed  ten  thousand,  who  in  the  harvest-time 
spread  themselves  over  the  country  to  cut  the  corn,  and  thus 
gained  the  means  of  living  and  giving  alms.*'^  It  has  even 
been  asserted  that  there  were  in  Egypt  as  many  monks  in 
the  deserts  as  inhabitants  in  the  towns.*^^  The  towns  them- 
selves were,  so  to  speak,  inundated  by  them,  since  in  356  a 
traveller  found  in  a  single  town  of  Oxyrynchus^*  upon  the 
Nile,  ten  thousand  monks  and  twenty  thousand  virgins  con- 
secrated to  God.^^ 

The  immense  majority  of  these  religious  were  cenobites  — 
that  is  to  say,  they  lived  in  the  same  enclosure,  and  were 
united  by  common  rule  and  practice  under  an  elected  head, 
whom  they  everywhere  called  abbot,  from  the  Syriac  word 
a66a,  which  means /a^Aer.  The  cenobitical  life  superseded, 
rapidly  and  almost  completely,  the  life  of  anchorites.  Many 
anchorites,  to  make  their  salvation  more  sure,  returned  into 
social  monastic  life.  Scarcely  any  man  became  an  anchorite 
until  after  having  been  a  cenobite,  and  in  order  to  meditate 
before  God  during  the  last  years  of  his  life.^*^  Custom  has 
therefore  given  the  title  of  monks  to  cenobites  alone. 

Ambitious  at  once  of  reducing  to  subjection  their  xiieceno- 
rebellious  flesh,  and  of  penetrating  the  secrets  of  fuoir  m"m- 
the  celestial  light,  these  cenobites  from  that  time  "erofiife. 
united  active  with  contemplative  life.  The  various  and  in- 
cessant labors  which  filled  up  their  days  are  known.  In  the 
great  frescoes  of  the  Campo-Santo  at  Pisa,  where  some  of  the 
tiithers  of  Christain  art,  Orcagna,  Laurati,  Benozzo  Gozzoli, 
have  set  before  us  the  life  of  the  fathers  of  the  desert  in  lions 
so  grand  and  pure,  they  appear  in  their  coarse  black  or 
brown  dresses,  a  cowl  upon  their  heads,  sometimes  a  mantle 
of  goatskin  upon  their  shoulders,  occupied  in  digging  up  the 
soil,  in  cutting  down  trees,  in  fishing  in  the  Nile,  in  milking 
the  goats,  in  gathering  the  dates  which  served  them  for  food, 
in  plaiting  the  mats  on  which  they  were  to  die.  Others  are 
absorbed  in  reading  or  meditating  on  the  Holy  Scriptures. 
Thus  a  saint  has  said,  the  cells  united  in  the  desert  were  like 

®2  KuFFiN.,  De  Vit.  Pair.,  lib.  ii.  c.  IS. 

«^  Ibid.,  ii.  7 

"  Now  Abou-Girge,  according  to  the  map  of  Father  Sicard. 

®"  KorriN.,  ii.  5. 

®*  "  A  new  convert  having  shut  liimself  up  in  an  absolute  solitude  immedi- 
ately after  having  assumed  the  monastic  dress,  the  elders  of  the  place 
{vicini  ss'-iiores)  forced  him  to  come  out  of  it,  and  sent  him  to  do  penance  itt 
all  the  neighboring  cells."  —  De  Vit.  Pair.,  lib.  v.  c.  10,  n.  110. 


184  MONASTIC    PKECUESORS 

a  liive  of  bees.  There  each  had  in  his  hands  the  wax  of 
labor,  and  in  his  mouth  the  honey  of  psalms  and  prayers.^^ 
The  days  were  divided  between  prayer  and  work.  The 
wjrk  was  divided  between  field-labor  and  the  exercise  of 
various  trades,  especially  the  manufacture  of  those  mats 
which  are  still  so  universally  used  in  southern  countries. 
There  were  also  among  these  monks  entire  families  of 
weavers,  of  carpenters,  of  curriers,  of  tailors,  and  of  fullers :  ^^ 
among  all,  the  labor  was  doubled  by  the  rigor  of  an  almost 
continual  fast.  All  the  rules  of  the  patriarchs  of  the  desert 
made  labor  obligatory,  and  the  example  of  these  holy  lives 
gave  authority  to  the  rule.  No  exception  to  the  contrary 
can  be  quoted,  or  has  been  discovered.  The  superiors  were 
first  in  hardship.  When  the  elder  Macarius  came  to  visit 
the  great  Anthony,  they  immediately  set  to  work  at  their 
mats  together,  conferring  thus  upon  things  important  to  souls ; 
and  Anthony  was  so  editied  by  the  zeal  of  his  guest  that  he 
kissed  his  hands,  saying,  "  What  virtues  proceed  from  these 
hands!  "69 

Their  Each  monastery  was  then  a  great  school  of  lal^or. 

ciiaiiiy.  y^jj^j  .^^  fi^Q  same  time  a  great  school  of  charity.-'' 
They  practised  this  charity  not  only  among  themselves,  and 
withregardtothe  poorinhabitantsof  theneighboringcountries, 
but  especially  in  the  case  of  travellers  whom  the  necessities  of 
commerce  or  public  business  called  to  the  banks  of  the  Nile, 
and  of  the  numerous  pilgrims  whom  their  increasingfame.drew 
to  the  desert.  A  more  generous  hospitality  had  never  been 
exercised,  nor  had  the  universal  mercy  introduced  by  Chris- 
tianity into  the  world  blossomed  anywhere  to  such  an  extent.'^^ 
A  thousand  incidents  in  their  history  reveal  the  most  tender 
solicitude  for  the  miseries  of  the  poor.  Their  extraordinary 
fasts,  their  cruel  macerations,  that  heroic  penitence  which 
was  the  heart  of  their  life,  did  not  destroy  their  perception 
of  the  weakness  and  necessities  of  others.  On  the  contrary, 
they  had  learned  the  secret  principle  of  the  love  of  their 

®^  Epiphan.,  lib.  iii.  Ilcsr.  80  contra  Massalianos,  ap.  Eosweyd. 

*^  S.  HiEKON.,  PrcBf.  in  Reg.  S.  Pacliomii,  §  6.  Conipars  Hist.  Lausi' 
aca,  c.  39. 

®^  "  Sedentes  a  sero  et  colloquentes  de  utilitate  animarura.  Malta  virtus 
de  istis  egreditur."  —  Eosweyde,  Z>i5  Vit.  Fatrum,  p.  585.  Compare  S. 
HiERON.,  in   Vit.  S.  Ililarion. 

'"    CuAMPAGNY,  loc.  cit. 

"  "Nusquam  sic  vidimus  florere  charitatem,  nusquam  sic  opus  servare 
misericord ias  et  studium  hospitalitatis  impleri." — EufFiN.,  De  Vit.  Pair., 
\\h,  ii.  c.  21. 


IN   THE   EAST.  185 

neiglibor  in  tliat  daily  struggle  against  the  sensual  ardor  of 
their  youth,  against  the  perpetually-renewed  rebellion  of  the 
flesh,  against  the  recollections  and  temptations  of  the  world. 
The  Xenodochium  —  that  is,  the  asylum  of  the  poor  and 
strangers  —  formed  from  that  time  a  necessary  appendix  to 
ev^erv  monastery.  The  most  ingenious  combinations,  and  the 
most  gracious  inspirations  of  charity,  are  to  be  found  in  their 
history.  A  certain  monastery  served  as  a  hospital  to  sick 
children,  and  thus  anticipated  one  of  the  most  touching  crea- 
tions of  modern  benevolence;'^^  and  another  was  transformed 
by  its  ibunder,  who  had  been  a  lapidary  in  his  youth,  into  a 
hospital  for  lepers  and  cripples.  "  Behold,"  said  he,  in  show- 
ing to  the  ladies  of  Alexandria  the  upper  floor,  which  was 
reserved  for  women  —  "  Behold  my  jacinths  ;  "  then,  in  con- 
ducting them  to  the  floor  below,  where  the  men  were  placed 
—  "  See  my  emeralds."  "^ 

They  were  hard  only  upon  themselves.  They  exercised 
this  hai'dness  with  that  imperturbable  confidence  which  gived 
the  victory  ;  and  this  victory  they  won,  complete  and  im- 
mortal, in  the  most  unfavorable  conditions.  Under  a  burning 
sky,  in  a  climate  which  has  always  seemed  the  cause  or  the  ex. 
cuse  of  vice,  in  a  country  given  up  at  all  times  to  every  kind 
of  laxness  and  depravity,  there  were  thousands  of  men  who, 
during  two  centuries,  interdicted  themselves  from  the  very 
shadow  of  a  sensual  gratification,  and  made  of  the  most  rig- 
orous mortification  a  rule  as  universal  as  a  second  nature.'^ 

To  labors  simply  manual,  to  the  most  austere  exercises  of 
penitence,  and  the  cares  of  hospitality  and  charity,  they 
united  the  culture  of  the  mind  and  the  study  of  sacred  litera- 
ture. There  were  at  Tabenne  a  special  family  of  ^iYera^i'  who 
knew  Greek.  The  rule  of  St.  Pacome  made  the  reading  of 
divers  portions  of  the  Bible  a  strict  obligation.  All  the  monks, 
besides,  were  required  to  be  able  to  read  and  write.  To 
qualify  themselves  for  reading  the  Scriptures  was  the  first 
duty  imposed  upon  the  novices.'^ 

Amongst  them  were  many  learned  men  and  philosophers, 
trained  in  the  ancient  knowledge  of  the  schools  of  Alexan- 
dria,  and  who  must  have  carried  to  the  desert  a  treasure  of 

'^   KOSWEYDE,  p.  357. 

"  "Erat  autem  is  a  .iuventute  lapidarius,  .  .  .  quid  vis  prinium  videre 
liyaciiithos  an  sniaragdos?  .  .  .  Ecce  liyacinthi  .  .  .  Ecce  smaragdi."  — 
IJist.  Laiisiaca,  c.  6. 

'■*  Balhes,  Dii  rrotestantisme  Compare  au  Catholicisme,  t.  ii.  e.  39. 

■'^  "  Onmiiio  nuUus  erit  in  monasterio  qui  non  discat  litteras  et  de  Scrip- 
turis  aliquid  teneat.' 

16^ 


186  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

varied  learning.  Solitude  instructed  them  how  to  purify 
their  gifts  in  the  crucible  of  faith.  It  doubled  the  strength 
of  their  mind.  The  new  science,  theology,  found  scholars 
nowhere  more  profound,  deeply  convinced,  and  eloquent. '^ 
They  therefore  feared  no  discussion  with  their  old  compan- 
ions of  study  or  of  pleasure  ;  and  when  they  had  refuted  and 
confounded  the  heretical  sophists,  they  opened  their  arms 
and  their  hearts  with  joy  to  receive  the  bishops  and  orthodox 
confessors  who  came  to  seek  a  shelter  with  them. 
Athanasius  ^^  '^  "°^'  then,  wondcrful  if  the  hero  of  those  great 
inthede-  couflicts  of  faith  agaiust  tyranny  and  heresy,  the 
'. —  great  Athanasius,  wandering  from  trial  to  trial,  and 
35G-372.  fi-o^jj  exile  to  exile,  especially  loved  to  seek  an  asy- 
lum in  the  cells  of  the  cenobites  of  the  Thebaid,  to  share 
their  studies  and  their  austerities,  to  collect  the  narrative  of 
their  struggle  with  the  flesh  and  the  devil,  and  to  renew  his 
courage  and  his  soul  in  the  refreshing  waves  of  monastic 
prayer  and  penitence.  He  had  always  counted  upon  the 
sympathy  of  the  monks,  and  alwaj^s  seconded  with  all  his 
might  the  progress  of  their  order.  He  could  then  regard 
himself  as  at  home  among  "  those  houses  vowed  to  prayer  and 
silence,  rising  from  stage  to  stage  along  the  Nile,  the  last  of 
which  lose  themselves  in  solitude,  like  the  source  of  the 
stream."  '7  In  vain  his  persecutors  searched  for  him  there  ; 
at  the  first  signal  of  their  approach  he  passed  unperceived 
from  one  monastery  to  another,  and  there  took  up  the  course 
of  life  of  an  ordinary  monk,  as  assiduous  as  any  in  the  offices 
and  regular  labor.  He  ended  always  by  taking  refuge  in  an 
unknown  cavern  to  which  one  faithful  person  alone  knew  the 
road.  His  retirement  in  the  desert  lasted  six  years.  His 
genius  could  but  increase  there,  his  eloquence  took  a  more 
masculine  and  incisive  character.  It  was  from  thence  that 
he  wrote  to  the  bishops  of  Egypt  to  enlighten  them,  to  liis 
church  in  Alexandria  to  console  it,  and  to  the  persecutors 
and  heretics  to  confound  them.     It  was  to  his  hosts  of  the 

^®  "  Scripturarnm  vero  divinarum  nieditationis  et  intellectus  atque  sci- 
eutiae  divinaj  nusquani  tanta  vidimus  exercitia,  ut  singulos  pene  eoruni  oia- 
tores  credas  in  divina  esse  sapientia."  —  Kuffin.,  ubi  supra. 

''  Albert  de  Broglie.  U Eglise  et  V Emjoire  Romain  au  iv"  Sicde,  t.  iii. 
p.  331.  —  If  it  had  entered  into  our  plan  to  enlarge  upon  this  episode  of 
Athanasius  in  tlie  desert,  we  should  have  given  it  up,  believing  that  all  our 
readers  have  certainly  read  the  excellent  narrative  of  ihe  Prince  de  Broglie, 
wlio  has  treated  in  a  masterly  manner  all  that  concerns  the  career  of  tliis 
great  man.  The  animosity  of  the  criticism  to  which  his  admirable  work  has 
been  subjected  will  excite  tlie  indignation  of  all  right-thinking  minds ;  but 
full  justice  will  be  done  to  him  in  reading  it. 


IN   THE   EAST.  18T 

Theltaid,  as  to  the  witnesses  and  soldiers  of  orthodoxy,  that 
he  addressed  the  famous  Epistle  to  the  Solitaries,  which  con- 
tains so  dramatic  and  complete  a  narration  of  the  Arian  per- 
secution under  Constantius.  It  is  entitled,  "  To  all  those 
who  lead,  no  matter  where,  the  monastic  life,  and  who, 
strengthened  in  faith,  have  said,  '  Behold  we  have  forsaken 
all  and  followed  thee.'  "  "'^  In  this  he  sets  forth  an  apologetic 
account  of  his  life  and  doctrines,  he  relates  his  sufferings  and 
those  of  the  faithful,  he  proclaims  and  justifies  the  divinity  of 
the  Word,  he  stigmatizes  the  courtier  bishops  of  Csesar,  do- 
cile instruments  of  those  vile  eunuchs  who  disposed  of  the 
empire  and  the  Church  as  masters;  he  accuses  the  Emperor 
Constantius  of  having  deprived  all  the  chuiches  of  freedom, 
and  of  having  filled  everything  with  hypocrisy  and  impiety  ; 
he  claims  for  truth  the  noble  privilege  of  conquering  by  free- 
dom, and  throws  back  upon  error  and  falsehood  the  necessity 
of  taking  constraint  and  persecution  for  their  weapons.  Let 
us  quote  his  noble  words,  immortally  true,  and  always  in 
season  —  "If  it  is  disgraceful  for  some  bishops  to  have 
changed  in  fear,  it  is  still  more  disgraceful  to  have  done  \\o- 
lence  to  them,  and  nothing  marks  more  clearly  the  weakness 
of  an  evil  cause.  The  devil,  who  has  no  truth,  comes  with 
axe  and  hatchet  to  break  down  the  doors  of  those  who  re- 
ceive him  ;  but  the  Saviour  is  so  gentle  that  he  contents  him- 
self with  teaching,  and  when  he  comes  to  each  of  us,  he  does 
no  violence,  but  he  knocks  at  the  door  and  says,  Open  to  me, 
my  sister,  my  spouse.  If  we  open  to  him  he  enters;  if  we 
will  not,  he  withdrav\rs  :  for  truth  is  not  preached  with  swords 
or  arrows,  nor  by  soldiers,  but  by  counsel  and  persuasion. 
It  belongs  to  the  true  religion  never  to  constrain,  but  to  per- 
suade." '^ 

Inspired  by  such  teachings  and  by  such  an  example,  the 
monks,  when  the  satellites  of  the  persecutors  pursued  the 
orthodox  confessors  even  into  the  desert,  scorned  to  answer 

'*  "  Omnibus  ubique  monasticam  vitam  agentibus,  et  fide  firmatis,  et  dicen- 
tilius,  Ecce  nos  reliquimus  omnia  et  secuti  sumus  te." 

'^  "  H(;niinum  &uas  s<.ntentia3  diffidentium  est  vim  inferre  ac  invitos  co- 
gere.  Sic  diahulus,  cum  nihil  veri  habeat,  in  securi  etascia  irruens  confringit 
portas  oorum  qui  se  rccipiunt :  Salvator  auteni  ea  est  niansuctudine,  ut  his 
verbis  doceat  quidcm  :  '  Si  quis  vult  post  me  venire;'  et,  'Qui  vult  mens 
esse  discipulus.'  Sed  ubi  quempiam  aderit,  nuUam  inferat  vim,  sed  potius 
pulsando  liaec  loquatur :  '  Aperi  mihi,  sorer  mea,  sponsa.'  Tunc,  si  aperiant, 
ingieditur ;  sin  negligant  abnuantque,  seceMt.  Non  enim  ghidiis  aut  telis, 
non  militum  manu,  Veritas  priedicatur.  sed  suasione  et  consilio.  Religionia 
proprium  est  non  cogere,  sed  persuadere." — S.  Athakas.,  Ad  Solitarios, 
ed.  liened  ,  pp.  363,  368.  ^ 


188  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

(Jiem,  presented  their  throats  to  the  sword,  and  suffered  tor. 
tures  and  death  with  joy,  holding  it  more  meritorious  to 
suffer  for  the  defence  of  their  legitimate  pastors,  thpn  to  fast, 
or  to  practise  an}^  other  austerity .^'^  They  themselves  went 
forth,  when  it  was  necessary,  from  their  Thebaid,  to  go  to 
Alexandria,  to  snatch  their  last  victims  from  the  last  perse- 
cutors, and  confound  by  their  courage,  by  their  abrupt  and 
penetrating  language,  and  even  by  their  presence  alone,  the 
most  widely  spread  and  dreaded  of  heresies. 

But,  however  great  and  strong  their  influence  might  be  in 
polemics,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  population  agitated  by  these 
struggles,  it  was  more  powerful  still  in,  their  proper  sphere 
in  that  solitude  to  which  they  always  returned  like  Anthony, 
their  model  and  master,  with  so  much  alacrity  and  joy. 
Eveninn-  ^^  ^^^  ^^  the  descrt  especially  that  their  triumph 

prayer Tn      shoue,  and  that  the  world,  scarcely  yet  Christian, 

tliG  desert  -  /  •/     •/  ? 

recognized  in  them  the  envoys  of  heaven  and  the 
conquerors  of  the  flesh.  When  towards  evening,  at  the  hour 
of  vespers,  after  a  day  of  stifling  heat,  all  work  ceased,  and 
from  the  midst  of  the  sands,  from  the  depths  of  caverns, 
from  h^^pogeums,  from  pagan  temples  cleared  of  their  idols, 
and  from  all  the  vast  tombs  of  a  people  dead,  the  cry  of  a 
living  people  rose  to  heaven ;  when  everywhere  and  all  at 
once  the  air  echoed  the  hymns,  the  praj'ers,  the  songs  pious 
and  solemn,  tender  and  joyous,  of  these  champions  of  the  soul 
and  conquerors  of  the  desert,  who  celebrated  in  the  language 
of  David  the  praises  of  the  living  God,  the  thanksgivings  of 
the  freed  soul,  and  the  homage  of  vanquished  nature,  —  then 
the  traveller,  the  pilgrim,  and  especially  the  new  convert, 
stood  still,  lost  in  emotion,  and,  transported  with  the  sounds 
of  that  sublime  concert,  cried  aloud.  "  Behold,  this  is  Para- 
dise !"8i 

''  Go,"  said  the  most  eloquent  doctor  of  the  Church  at  that 
period  —  "  go  to  the  Thebaid;  you  shall  find  there  a  solitude 
still  more  beautiful  than  Paradise,  a  thousand  choirs  of  angels 
under  the  human  form,  nationa  of  martyrs,  armies  of  virgins, 
the  diabolical  tyrant  chained,  and  Christ  triumphant  and 
glorified."  ^^ 

*"  S.  Athanas.,  Ep.  2,  ap.  Oper.  Litciferi  Cagliar. 

*'  "  Circa  horam  itidem  nonam  licet  stare  et  audire  in  unoqwoque  monas- 
terio  hymnos  et  psalmos  Christo  canentes  .  .  .  adeo  ut  existimet  quispiarn 
se  sublime  elatuni  transmigrasse  in  paridisura  deliciarum." — Pallad.,  Hisi 
Lansiaca,  c.  7. 

^*  S.  Joan.  Chbysost.,  in  Matth.,  hom.  viii- 


IN    THE    EAST.  189 

The  Iiol}'  doctor  spoke  of  armies  of  virgins,  be-  ^^^^naRtic 
cause  in  all  times  Christian  women  had  shown  them-  lifc  iimon? 
selves,  both  in  number  and  zeal,  the  emulators  of 
men  in  the  practice  of  monastic  virtues  and  austerities. 
Virginity  had  been  honored  and  practised  in  the  Church 
from  its  origin.^^  Besides  the  sublime  maids  who  bore  it 
triumphant  through  the  last  agonies,  there  were  a  multitude 
who  preserved  it  for  many  years  in  the  midst  of  the  world. 
For  there  were  nuns,  as  there  had  been  ascetics  and  hermits, 
before  the  regular  and  popular  institution  of  monastic  life. 
With  all  the  more  reason,  when  the  towns  and  deserts  of 
Egypt  became  populated  with  monasteries,  the  sex  whose 
weakness  Christianity  had  ennobled  and  purified,  came  there 
to  claim  its  part.  The  most  illustrious  fathers  of  the  desert 
found  each  in  his  own  family  a  woman  eager  to  comprehend 
and  imitate  him.  The  sisters  of  Anthony  and  Pacome,  the 
mother  of  Theodore,  the  wife  of  Ammon,  followed  them  into 
the  desert,  either  to  lead  them  back,  or  watch  over  them. 
These  hearts,  steeled  by  an  immortal  love,  repelled  them  with 
unyielding  resolution  ;  then  the  sorrowing  Christian  women 
avenged  themselves  by  embracing  the  same  kind  of  life 
which  raised  their  fears  for  their  brothers.  They  established 
themselves  in  an  enclosure,  distinct  but  near,  sometimes  sep- 
arated  by  a  river  or  by  a  precipice  from  those  whom  they 
had  followed.  It  was  impossible  to  refuse  to  them  counsels, 
rules,  and  precepts  which  they  observed  with  an  ardent 
fidelity  ;  and  soon  a  multitude  crowded  into  these  sanctuaries 
to  practise  fasting,  silence,  austerities,  and  works  of  mercy. 

There  dwelt  first,  and  above  all,  the  heroic  virgins  who 
brought  to  that  shelter  their  innocence,  their  attractions,  and 
their  love  of  heaven.  Of  these  all  ranks  and  all  countries 
furnished  their  contingent  by  thousands.  They  hesitated  at 
no  sacrifice  to  procure  an  entrance  there,  nor  before  any 
trial  to  be  permitted  to  remain. 

Here,  it  was  the  slave  Alexandra  who,  fearing  her    Alexandra, 
own  beauty,  and  in  pity  for  the   poor  soul  of  him 
who  loved  her,  buried  herself  alive  in  an  empty  tomb,  and 
remained  ten  years  without  permitting  any  one  to  see  her 
face.84 

"^  See,  among  other  proofs,  S.  Cyprian.  Martyr.,  Tract,  de  Hahitu  Vir- 
ginum,  where  he  speaks  of  those  who  "  se  Christo  dicaverunt,  se  Deo  vove- 
runt." 

^*  "  Quidam  insano  mei  amore  tenebatur,  et,  ne  eum  viderer  molestia 
alficere  .  .  .  malui  me  vivam  in  hoc  raonumentum  inferre,  quam  oifender* 
animam  quae  facta  est  ad  Dei  imaginera."  —  Be  Vit.  Pair.,  lib.  viii  c.  6. 


190  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

Euphros-  Tliere,  it  was  the  beautiful  and  learned  Euphros- 

yne.  j^Q^  who,  at  eio^hteen,  deserted  her  father  and  her 

husband  ;  and,  to  escape  the  better  from  their  search,  ob 
tained  admission,  by  concealing  her  sex,  into  a  monastery  of 
monks,  where  she  remained  thirty-eight  j^ears  without  leaving 
her  cell.  Her  father,  in  despair,  after  useless  search  by  land 
and  sea,  came  to  the  same  monastery  to  seek  e.oiue  comfor*^i 
to  his  increasing  grief.  "  My  father,"  he  said  to  the  first 
monk  whom  he  met,  "  pray  for  me  :  1  can  bear  up  no  longer, 
80  much  do  I  weep  for  my  lost  daughter,  so  much  am  L  de- 
voured by  this  grief!"  And  it  was  to  herself  he  spoke,  to 
his  daughter,  whom  he  did  not  recognize  in  the  monk's  dress. 
At  sight  of  the  father  from  whom  she  had  fled,  and  whom  she 
too  well  recognized,  she  grew  pale  and  wept.  But  soon, 
smothering  her  tears,  she  consoled  him,  cheered  him  up. 
promised  that  he  should  one  day  see  his  daughter  again, 
and  thus  encouraged  him  for  his  further  life  ;  then  finall}'^, 
when  she  felt  herself  dying,  she  sent  for  him  to  her  bedside, 
revealed  the  secret  of  her  sacrifice,  and  bequeathed  to  him 
her  example  and  her  cell,  where  her  father,  so  long  inconsol- 
able, came  to  live  and  die  in  his  turn.^^ 

Magda-  But  more  strange  recruits  for  these  sanctuaries  of 

leuea.  virginity  were  the   celebrated  courtesans,  the  dan- 

cers, the  mercenary  and  imperious  beauties  whom  Egypt,  and 
especially  Alexandria,  seemed  then  to  produce  in  greater  num- 
ber and  more  perfidious  and  undaunted  than  elsewhere,  as  if  to 
subject  Christian  virtue  to  a  war  still  more  dangerous  than  the 
persecution  out  of  which  it  had  come.  Men  and  demons  ex- 
cited them  violently  against  the  solitaries.  It  was  not  enough 
for  these  female  conquerors  to  seduce,  to  dazzle,  and  to  govern 
the  profane  lay  crowd  of  their  adorers  of  every  age  and  con- 
dition ;  they  longed  to  vanquish  and  enchain  the  strong  and 
pure  men  who  believed  themselves  safe  in  the  shelter  of 
their  retreats.  Their  pride  could  not  be  satisfied  without 
this  triumph.  They  hastened  into  the  desert ;  they  knocked 
at  the  doors  of  the  cells,  they  displayed  to  the  eyes  of  the 
suppliant  and  dismayed  solitaries  those  attractions  which  had 
been  too  often  found  irresistible,  and  that  pomp  wqth  which 

®*  "  Ora  pro  me,  pater,  quia  non  possum  sufferredolorem  de  filia  mea,  sed 
magis  ac  magis  de  die  in  diem  .  .  .  crescit  vulnus  raeum.  Ut  autem  non  ag- 
nosceretur  per  multa  colloquia,  dixit  ad  Paphnutium  :  Vale,  Domine  mi,  .  .  . 
et  anima  illius  compatiebatur  illi,  facies  ejus  pallebat  et  rep'.ebatur  lacry- 
mis."  —  RoswEYDE,  p.  366.  Tlie  liistory  of  Sv\  Eugenia,  which  immediatelj 
precedes  that  of  St.  Euphrosyne,  has  very  great  beauties,  but  also  so  man 
chronological  difficulties,  that  I  could  not  avail  myself  of  it. 


IN    THE    EAST.  191 

the  East  has  always  adorned  voluptuousness  ;  tlie}^  employed 
in  that  effort  all  the  audacity,  the  address,  and  the  charms 
which  they  possessed,  and  yet  almost  always  tliey  were  over- 
come* They  returned  vanquished  to  Alexandria,  and  went 
to  hide  their  defeat  in  a  monastery  ;  or  they  remained  in  sol- 
itude to  throw  themselves,  after  the  example  of  their  victors, 
into  the  depths  of  repentance  and  divine  love. 

The  first  place  in  the  sacred  annals  of  the  desert  seems  to 
belong  to  those  true  martyrs  of  penitence,  those  glorious 
rivals  of  the  Magdalene,  the  first  friend  of  Christ,  to  Mary  of 
Egypt,  to  Thais,  to  Pelagia,  the  celebrated  actress  of  Antioch, 
to  all  those  saints  to  whom  the  worship  of  the  Christian 
nations  has  so  long  remained  faithful.  The  saints  who  have 
written  the  lives  of  the  Fathers  have  related  the  history  of 
these  courtesans,  as  they  are  called,  with  a  bold  simplicity 
Wiiich  I  should  not  venture  to  reproduce.  A  burning  breath 
seems  to  pass  across  the  narrative,  which  for  an  instant  in- 
flames their  imagination,  and  is  then  extinguished  in  the  pure 
and  serene  atmosphere  of  Christian  chastity.  "  We  were," 
says  one  of  them,  "  seated  at  the  feet  of  our  bishop,  The  dancer 
that  austere  and  vigorous  monk,  from  the  monastery  i''^'i«sJ<i- 
of  Tabenne.  We  were  listening  to  and  admiring  his  holy 
and  salutary  instructions;  suddenly  there  appeared  before 
us  the  first  of  the  mimes,  the  most  beautiful  of  the  dancers 
of  Antioch,  all  covered  with  jewels  ;  her  naked  limbs  were 
concealed  under  pearls  and  gold  ;  she  had  her  head  and  her 
shoulders  bare.  A  great  retinue  accompanied  her.  The  men 
of  the  world  were  never  tired  of  devouring  her  charms  with 
their  eyes  ;  a  delicious  perfume  exhaled  from  all  her  person 
and  sweetened  the  air  we  breathed.  When  she  had  passed, 
our  father,  who  had  longed  gazed  at  her,  said  to  us,  '  Have 
you  not  been  charmed  with  so  much  beauty  ?  '  And  we 
were  all  silent.  '  For  me,'  resumed  the  bishop,  '  I  took  great 
pleasure  in  it,  for  God  has  destined  her  to  judge  us,  one 
day.  ...  I  see  her,'  he  said  later,  '  like  a  dove  all  black  and 
stained ;  but  that  dove  shall  be  bathed  in  the  waters  of  bap- 
tism, and  shall  fly  towards  heaven  white  as  snow.'  Shortly, 
in  fact,  she  returned  to  be  exorcised  and  baptized.  '  1  am 
called  Pelagia,  she  said,  '  the  name  which  my  parents  gave 
me  ;  but  the  people  of  Antioch  call  me  the  Pearl,  because  of 
the  quantity  of  ornaments  with  which  ray  sins  have  adorned 
me.'  Two  days  after,  she  gave  all  her  goods  to  the  poor, 
clothed  herr,elf  in  haircloth,  and  went  to  shut  herself  up  in  a 
sell  on  the  Mount  of  Olives.     Pour  years  later,  he  who  had 


t92  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

admired  her  incomparable  beauty  so  much,  found  her  in  that 
cell  and  did  not  recognize  her,  so  much  had  penitence  and 
tasting  changed  her.  Her  great  eyes  were  hollow  and  sunken 
as  in  wells.  She  died  thus.  Such  was,"  saj^s  the  narrator, 
"the  life  of  that  couitesan,  of  that  hopeless  one.  God  grant 
that  we  may  find  mercy  like  her  at  the  day  of  judgment !  "  ^ 
A  different  narrative,  a  type  of  innocent  vocations,  and  the 
first  detailed  and  authentic  example  of  those  contests  between 
the  cloister  and  the  family,  which  have  been  renewed  during 
BO  many  centuries  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of 
souls,  is,  however,  more  worthy  of  being  quoted  from  these 
precious  annals. 

Euphrasia  was  the  only  daughter  of  a  senator, 
nearly  related  to  the  Emperor  Theodosius ;  her 
father  having  died  while  she  was  still  a  child,  she  was  be- 
trothed to  a  wealthy  noble,  and  in  the  interval,  before  she 
came  to  marriageable  years,  her  mother  took  her  to  Constan- 
tinople and  Egypt,  to  visit  the  immense  estates  which  they 
possessed  there,  and  which  extended  into  the  higher  Thebaid. 
They  often  lodged  in  a  monastery  of  nuns  of  extreme  austerity, 
and  both  conceived  a  great  regard  for  these  virgins,  whose 
prayers  for  the  soul  of  her  husband  and  the  future  of  her 
daughter  the  young  widow  incessantly  craved.  One  day  the 
abbess  said  to  the  little  Euphrasia,  "  Do  you  love  our  house 
and  «.»ur  sisters  ?  "  **  Yes,"  unswered  the  child,  "  I  love  you." 
"But  which  do  you  love  best,  your  betrothed  or  us?  "  "I 
do  not  know  him  any  more  than  he  knows  me  ;  1  know  you 
and  love  you  ;  but  you,  which  do  you  love  best,  your  be- 
trothed or  me?"  The  abbess  and  the  other  nuns  who  were 
there  answered,  "  We  love  thee,  thee  and  our  Christ." 
"  Ah,"  aaid  the  child,  "  1  also  love  you,  you  and  your  Christ.'' 
However,  the  mother,  who  had  been  present  during  this  con- 
versation, began  to  lament  and  weep,  and  would  have  led 
her  daughter  away.  The  abbess  said  to  her,  "  You  must  go 
away,  for  those  only  who  are  vowed  to  Christ  remain  hero." 
The   child   answered,  "Where   is   He,  this   Christ?"     The 

86  (<  Yjj.  mirificus  et  efficacissimus  monachus.  .  .  .  Ecce  subito  transiU 
per  DOS  prima  raimarura  Antiochiae,  .  .  .  prima  clioreutriarum  pantomima- 
rum.  .  .  .  Pulchritudinis  autem  dcooris  ejus  non  erat  satietas  omnibus  secu- 
laribus  hominibus.  .  .  .  Non  dek'clati  cstis  tanta  pulcliritudine  ejus?  .  .  . 
Natural!  nomine  Pelagia  vocata  sura,  .  .  .  cives  vero  Antiocluas  Margaritam 
me  vocant,  propter  pondus  ornamentorum  quibus  me  adornaverunt  peccata 
niea.  Ego  vero  non  cognovi  earn  .  .  .  quam  antea  videram  inaestimabili 
pulchritudine.  .  .  .  Oculi  ejus  sicut  fossae."  —  Jacob  Djac  ,  Vit.  S.  Pelag^ 
c.  2,  8,  14. 


IN   THE    EAST.  193 

abbess  showed  her  an  image  of  the  Saviour.  She  threw  lier- 
self  upon  it,  kisoed  it,  and  immediately  said,  "  Well  !  I  devote 
myself  truly  to  my  Christ;  I  shall  go  away  no  more  with  my 
mother,  I  will  remain  with  you."  The  mother  tried  in  vain 
with  many  caresses  to  induce  her  child  to  go  with  her;  the 
abbess  joined  her  persuasions  to  those  of  the  mother.  ''  If 
you  remain  here,"  she  said,  ''  you  will  have  to  learn  the  holy 
books  and  all  the  psalter,  and  fast  every  day  till  evening  as 
the  other  sisters  do."  "  I  learn  already  to  do  all  that/'  an- 
swered the  girl,  "  only  let  me  remain  here."  Then  the  abbess 
said  to  the  mother,  "  Madame,  she  must  be  left  to  us  :  the 
grace  of  God  shines  on  her ;  the  virtue  of  her  father  and  the 
prayers  of  both  will  procure  her  eternal  life."  The  mother, 
conducting  her  daughter  before  the  image  of  Christ,  ex- 
claimed, weeping,  "  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  be  gracious  to  this 
dear  little  girl,  who  seeks  Thee,  and  who  has  given  herself 
to  Thee."  She  was  then  clothed  in  the  monastic  dress. 
Her  mother  said  to  her,  "  Lovest  thou  that  dress  ?  "  "  Yes, 
certainly,  my  mother ;  for  I  have  learned  that  it  is  the  robe 
of  betrothal  which  the  Lord  gives  to  those  who  love  him." 
"  May  thy  bridegroom  then  render  thee  worthy  of  him  !  "  ^'' 

These  were  the  last  words  of  the  desolate  mother,  who 
embraced  her  daughter  and  went  awa}^  beating  her  breast. 
She  died  soon  after,  leaving  the  young  Euphrasia  sole  heir 
of  a  double  and  immense  patrimony.  At  the  solicitation  of 
the  nobleman  who  was  to  have  married  her,  the  emperor 
wrote  to  her  to  return  to  Constantinople.  She  answered  him 
that  she  had  already  a  bridegroom,  and  supplicated  him,  in 
the  name  of  the  close  friendship  which  had  united  him  to  her 
f ither,  to  dispose  of  all  her  fortune  for  the  advantage  of  the 
poor,  of  orphans,  and  of  churches,  to  free  and  portion  her 
slaves,  to  remit  all  their  taxes  to  the  cultivators  of  her  pater- 
nal domains,  and,  finally,  to  intercede  for  her  with  the  em- 
press. In  reading  the  letter,  the  empress  said  to  her  hus- 
band, "Truly  this  girl  is  of  imperial  race."  The  will  of  the 
young  heiress  was  executed.  She  remained  divested  of 
everything  in  her  Egyptian  monastery  ;  she  lived  there  from 

*'  "Piliamea,  habemus  in  TEgypto  copiosammagnamque  substantiam.  .  .  . 
Neque  ilium  novi,  neque  ille  me  :  vos  autem  novi  et  vos  amo.  .  .  .  Ego  vero 
et  vos  deligo,  et  Christum  meum.  .  .  .  Vere  et  ego  me  voveo  Cliristo  meo, 
et  ulterius  cum  domina  mea  niatre  non  vado.  .  .  .  Ubi  vos  nianetis  et  ego 
raaneo.  ...  Litterashabesdiscere  et  psalterium,  siout  universaj  sorores.  .  . 
Ego  et  jejunium  et  omnia  disco.  .  .  .  Cui  desponsata  es,  ipse  facial  te  tha- 
lamo  suo  dignam.  .  .  .  Et  deflens  pectusque  suum  tundens."  —  Ve  Vitit 
Patritm,  i.  352. 

VOL.  I.  17 


194  MONASTIC   PKECURSORS 

the  age  of  twelve  to  thirty,  occupied  with  the  hardest  labors, 
cleaning  out  the  chambers  of  the  sisters,  carrying  wood  and 
water  to  the  kitchen,  and  even  stones  for  the  buildings,  bak- 
ing the  bread  in  the  great  oven  of  the  community,  and  attend- 
ing to  the  sick  children  and  the  poor  idiots  who  were  brought 
to  the  nuns,  as  to  the  source  of  all  remedies.  All  these 
merits  did  not  preserve  her  from  the  trials,  assaults,  and 
calumnies  which  are  the  portion  of  the  saints,  and  which 
jiursued  her  even  up  to  the  day  when  she  was  laid  in  the 
lomb,  where  her  mother  awaited  her  coming.^^ 

Let  us  haste  to  close  the  volume  which  contains  these  too- 
absorbing  tales,  and  pursue  our  rapid- course  across  the  first 
ages  of  monastic  glory,  which  the  following  ages  only  ex- 
tended and  increased. 

The  monks  Meantime,  Egypt  being  speedily  occupied,  the 
at  Sinai,  stream  of  monastic  life  overflowed  and  inundated 
the  neighboring  countries.  The  monks  passed  on  to  people 
the  burning  deserts  of  Arabia,  Syria,  and  Palestine.  Sinai 
was  occupied  by  them  almost  as  soon  as  the  Thebaid.  At 
the  commencement  of  the  fourth  century,  while  the  last 
pagan  emperors  were  exhausting  their  rage  against  Chris- 
tians throughout  all  the  empire,  the  Arabs — who  did  not 
recognize  their  laws,  but  whom  the  instinct  of  evil  associ- 
ated with  them  in  their  war  against  Christ  —  murdered 
forty  solitaries  who  had  fixed  their  sojourn  upon  the  holy 
mountain  where  God  gave  His  law  to  Moses.  Others  came 
to  replace  them,  and  there  came  also  other  Arabs  or  Sara- 
cens to  sacrifice  their  successors,  and  these  alternations 
between  the  pacific  colonization  of  the  monks  and  the  bloody 
incursions  of  the  Saracens,  were  prolonged  during  the  rest 
of  the  century.  But  the  destroyers  tired  sooner  than  the 
monks,  and  ended  by  becoming  converts,  a  portion  of  them 
at  least.  St.  Nilus  was  the  principal  apostle  of  these  savage 
tribes,  and  the  great  monastic  colonizer  of  Mount  Sinai. 
And  in  Ifi    Palestine    monastic    life  was  introduced    by 

Palestine.  Hilariou.  This  young  pagan,  born  at  Gaza,  having 
gone  to  study  at  Alexandria,  where  he  was  converted  to 
Christianity,  was  drawn  by  the  renown  of  Anthony  into  the 

'*  "  Quapropter  imperator  Domine,  non  ulterius  vos  ille  vir  fatiget.  .  .  . 
Novi  quia  recordaberis  parentum  meoruni,  niaxiine  patris  mei.  Audivi  enini 
quia  in  palutio  nunquatn  a  te  dividebatur.  Omnes  constitiitos  sub  jugo  ser- 
vitutis  manumittc  et  eis  legitima  concede.  Manda  actonbus  patris  uiei  ut 
oniiie  dcbitum  dimittant  agricolis.  quod  a  die  patris  mei  usque  ad  lianc  diem 
reddebant,  .  .  .  Vere,  Domine  iniperatcr,  filia  est  Antigoni  ct  Euphrasiaa 
genus  tuuui,  et  ex  sanguine  ejus  est  iiaec  puella."  —  De  Vitis  Patrum,  i.  355. 


IN   THE    EAST.  195 

desert.     "  Thou  art  welcome,"  said  Antliony,  seeing    st.  niiar 

him   approach   his  mountain  —  "  thou  art  welcome,    '°°J 

thou  who  shinest  early  as  the  star  of  morning."  202-372. 
The  young  Syrian  answered  him,  ''  Peace  be  with  thee, 
thou  column  of  light  which  sustains  the  universe  ;"^^  He 
passed  two  months  with  the  patriarch  of  the  cenobites, 
made  up  his  mind  to  be  a  monk  like  Anthony,  and  to  imi- 
tate him  returned  to  his  own  country,  where  nothing  of  the 
kind  had  yet  been  seen.  After  having  given  all  his  goods 
to  the  poor,  he  established  himself  at  sixteen  upon  the  side 
of  a  mountain  in  a  cabin  of  rushes,  near  a  cistern  which 
he  had  dug  with  his  own  hands,  and  which  served  to  water 
the  garden  which  produced  his  food.  There  he  delved, 
sang,  prayed,  fasted,  plaited  baskets,  and,  above  all,  strove 
against  the  temptations  of  the  devil.  In  vain  the  recol- 
lections of  the  beautiful  women  of  Alexandria,  of  the  sump- 
tuous repasts,  and  all  the  seductions  of  the  pagan  world, 
came  to  arouse  his  senses.  He  undertook  to  reduce  his 
bod}',  like  a  beast  of  burden,  by  hunger  and  thirst,  and 
succeeded  thus  in  subduing  his  passions.^^  He  passed 
twenty-two  years  in  solitude  ;  but  that  austere  virtue  in  so 
young  a  man,  and  the  miraculous  cures  obtained  by  his 
prayers,  gradually  extended  his  fame  throughout  all  Syria  ; 
that  fame  attracted  the  crowd  ;  that  crowd  gave  him  disciples 
and  emulators  ;  to  receive  them  he  had  to  form  communities  : 
and  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  foundation  of  the  monasteries 
which  have  risen  from  that  time  at  Jerusalem  and  Bethle- 
hem.^i  as  if  to  approach  the  new  institution  to  the  places 
consecrated  forever  by  the  Nativity  and  Passion  of  its  di- 
vine model,  date  back  to  his  labors.  He  had  the  honor  of 
undergoing  persecution  under  Julian  the  Apostate,  and  of 
being  proscribed  at  the  desire  of  his  own  compatriots  of 
Gaza.  But  that  trial  was  short,  and  it  was  much  less  pro- 
ecription  than  the  desire  to  escape  his  too  great  fame  which 
conducted  him  into  the  Mediterranean  isles,  into  Sicily,  the 

®'  "  Bene  venisti,  Lucifer,  qui  inane  oriris.  .  .  .  Pax  tibi,  columna  lucis. 
quse  sustines  orbem  universum." —  Vitcz  Patrum,  iv.  §  xvii.  c.  4. 

90  "Nee  quisquam  monachuni  ante  S.  Hiiarionem  in  Syria  noverat.  Orans 
at  psallens  et  rostro  humum  fodiens,  ut  jejuniorum  laborem  labor  operis  du- 
plicaret;  simulque  fiscellas  junco  texens."  —  S.  Hieron.,  Vit.  S.  IJilarion., 
c.  9-3.  "  Quoties  illi  nudae  nmlieres  cubitanti,  quoties  esurienti  largis- 
siinae  apparuere  dapes.  .  .  .  Ego  te.  aselle,  faciam  ut  non  calcitres,  nee  te 
hordeo  alam,  sed  paleis ;  fame  te  conficiam  et  siti,  gravi  onerabo  pondere, 
per  aestus  indagabo  et  frigora,  ut  cibum  potius  quani  lasciviaoi  cogites."  — 
Ihid. 

®'  BuLiEAU,  Histoire  Monastique  d' Orient,  pp.  239,  2G8,  270. 


196  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

Cyclades,  and  even  into  the  isle  of  Cyprus.  From  country 
to  country,  and  even  beyond  the  sea,  he  fled  from  the  fame  of 
his  virtues  and  miracles  which  pursued  him.^^ 

monks  ^^^  islaud  of  Cyprus,  so  celebrated  by  the  worship 
in  the  isle  of  Vcuus,  and  the  associations  of  which  made  it 
01  Cyprus.  ^^^^  sanctuary  of  pagan  sensualism,  had  the  singular 
grace  of  being  purified  by  a  ray  of  monastic  light,  before 
becoming  the  last  asylum  of  that  Catholic  royalty^  jvhich  the 
Crusades  were  to  inaugurate  near  the  tomb  of  Jesus  Christ, 
JSothing  can  better  depict  the  victory  of  the  divine  Son  of 
the  Virgin  over  the  goddess  mother  of  Love,  than  the  so- 
journ of  Hilarion  at  Paphos.  The  austere  monk,  whose  youth 
had  been  but  one  long  and  triumphant  struggle  against  volup- 
tuousness, remained  two  3'ear8  at  the  gates  of  that  town,  so 
dear  to  erotic  poetry,  whilst  the  Christians  of  the  island 
crowded  round  him,  and  brought  the  possessed  to  him  to  be 
healed.  He  afterwards  found  a  retreat  more  solitary,  near 
the  ruin  of  an  ancient  temple,  doubtless  consecrated  to  Ve- 
nus, where  he  heard  night  and  day  the  bellowing  voices 
of  a  whole  army  of  demons,  impatient  of  the  yoke  which  the 
soldier  of  chastity  and  prayer  came  to  impose  upon  their 
ancient  subjects.  These  nocturnal  clamors  rejoiced  him 
greatly,  for  he  loved,  he  said,  to  see  his  enemies  face  to 
face.93 

There  he  died,  an  octogenarian,  epitomizing  his  life  in 
these  well-known  words  — *'  Go  forth,  tlien,  my  soul,  go  forth  : 
what  hast  thou  to  fear?  For  nearly  threescore  and  ten  years 
thou  hast  served  Christ,  and  dost  thou  fear  to  die  ?  "  ^* 

Even  to  this  day  the  Cypriote  people,  confusing  in  their 
recollections  the  legends  of  good  and  evil,  the  victories  of 
the  soul  and  the  triumphs  of  sense,  give  to  the  ruins  of 
one  ol"  the  strong  castles  built  by  the  Lusignans,  which  com- 
iiiand  their  island,  the  double  name  of  Castle  of  St.  Hilarion 
and  the  Castle  of  the  God  of  love. 

St.  Epipha-  Hilarion  left  upon  the  metropolitan  see  of  the 
"'"8.  island,  sanctified  from  henceforth  by  his  presence 

**  F^NELON ;  Albekt  de  Brogi.ie,  L' Eglise  et  U Empire,  iv.  273. 

9^  "  Ingressus  Paphuni,  urbt-.ii  Cypri,  nobileni  carminibus  poetarum.  .  .  . 
Aiuiquissimi  templi  ruina  ex  quo  (uc  ipse  referebat  et  ejus  discipuli  testan- 
Uir)  taiii  innunierabilium  (jor  noctes  et  dies  dajnionum  voces  lesonabant,  ut 
exercitum  crederes.  Quo  ille  valde  deleetatus,  quod  scilicet  antagonistas 
haberet  in  proximo."  —  S.  Hiekon.,    VU.  S.  Hilarion.,  i.  c  35,  36. 

94  "  ]i^rixdere  :  quid  times 'r'  Egredere  :  anima  mea,  quid  dubitas  ?  Sepiu- 
aginta  prope  annis  servisti  Cliristo,  et  mortem  times?"  —  S.  Hieron.,  Vit.  &. 
ililuiion.,  i.  c.  35,  36. 


IN    THE    EAST.  197 

and  memory,  an  illustrious  monk,  St.  Eplphaniuf!,  who  had 
been  his  disciple,  and  who  had  come  to  rejoin  him  at  Paphos. 
A  Jew  by  origin  —  converted  in  his  youth  by  seeing  the 
charity  of  a  monk, 'who  divested  himself  of  his  own  garment 
to  clothe  a  poor  man — Epiphanius  himself  became  a  monk, 
and  had  acquired  great  fame  for  his  austerity,  in  Palestine 
first,  where  Hilarion  had  trained  him,  and  afterwards  in 
Egypt,  where  he  lived  during  the  persecution  of  Julian,  and 
where  Christianity  kept  its  ground  better  than  in  the  other 
quarters  of  the  East,  thanks  to  the  authority  of  Athanasius 
and  the  influence  of  the  Thebaid.  Raised  in  spite  of  himself 
to  the  episcopate,  he  continued  to  wear  the  dress  of  a  her- 
mit, and  it  was  at  the  request  of  the  superiors  of  two  Syrian 
monasteries  that  he  wrote  the  histor}'  and  refuta- 
tion  of  thj  eighty  heresies  then  known.  He  was 
the  friend  of  St.  Basil.  St.  Jerome,  and  St.  Chrysostom.  He 
knew  Greek,  Hebrew,  Syriac,  and  Latin,  equally  well:  he 
always  devoted  this  knowledge  to  the  defence  of  orthodoxy 
in  faith  and  discipline,  which  he  served  by  his  works  not 
less  than  by  his  journeys  to  Rome,  Jerusalem,  and  Constanti- 
nople. He  was  born  in  a  cool  valley,  at  the  foot  of  Mount 
Olympus,  and  not  tar  from  Cape  Fi/ani,  which  still  retains 
the  trace  of  his  name  in  that  alteration  made  by  European 
sailors  of  the  word  Einphanios.^^ 

The    Emperor  Julian,  whose   mind    was   greater 
than  his  heart,  was  not  unaware  of  the  grandeur  of   unrirr 
the   monastic  institution,  and,  even  in  persecuting  •'"^'•''"• 
the  monks,  dreamt  of  male  and  female  convents  for  his  regen- 
erated pagans.     It  was  desiring  the  resuscitation  of  a  corpse. 
The  work  of  God  needed  no  emperor:   the  saints  were  suffi- 
cient for  it.     The  monastic  life  which  they  produced,  and  in 
which  they  perfected  their  title  to  heaven,  propagated  itself 
rapidly,  and   thanks   to  this,  the   conversion   of  the  East  to 
Christianity  was  being  accomplished.     At  Edessa  in  the  cen- 
Ire  of  Mesopotamia,  St.  Ephrem  carried  to  this  work 
the  authority  of  his  long  career,  of  his  poetic  and 
popular  eloquence,  of  his  austere  genius,  and  of  his  noble 
combats  against  the  shameless  corruption  ^^  which  infected 
that  oriental  civilization,  from  which  it  was  necessary  to  sep- 
arate truth  and  the  future. 

*"  St.  Hilarion  and  St  Epiphanius  are  both  objects  of  popular  veneration  to 
the  modern  Cypriotes  :  as  M.  de  Mas-Latrie,  who  of  all  contemporary  writers 
has  best  studied  the  history  and  monuments  of  that  interesting  island,  proves 

*®  KOSWEYDE,  p.  268. 

17* 


198  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

Edessa  was  then  the  metropolis  of  those  S}  riac  popula- 
tions which  had  preserved  their  lang'uage  and  national  spirit 
in  the  shelter  of  Greek  influence.  Ephrem  was  at  once  their 
apostle,  their  doctor,  tiieir  orator,  their  poet.  He  translated 
the  dogmas  proclaimed  at  Nic£ea,  and  the  events  of  holy  and 
evangelical  History,  into  popular  songs  which  might  be 
heard  many  centuries  after,  in  the  plains  of  Syria.     Becom- 

g,j^  ing  a  monk  at  the  same  time  as  he  became  a  Chris- 
tian, he  continued  to  his  last  day  to  instruct  the 
monks  his  brethren  and  the  people  of  Edessa.  His  eloquence 
was  nervous  and  full  of  fire  and  unction.  "  The  Holy 
Spirit,"  says  St.  Gregory  of  Nysse,  "gave  him  so  marvellous 
a  fountain  of  knowledge,  that,  though  the  words  flowed  from 
his  mouth  like  a  torrent,  they  were  too  slow  to  express  his 
thoughts.  .  .  .  He  had  to  pray  that  God  would  moderate  the 
inexhaustible  flood  of  his  ideas,  saying,  "  Restrain,  Lord,  the 
tide  of  thy  grace."  .  .  .  For  that  sea  of  knowledge,  which 
would  unceasingly  flow  forth  by  his  tongue,  overwhelmed 
him  by  its  waves.^''  This  great  man  of  words  was  also  a  man 
of  action  :  when  Sapor,  king  of  Persia,  then  the  most  re- 
doubtable enemy  of  the  Romans,  came  for  the  third   time  to 

.349  besiege  Nisibis,  the  bulwark  of  the  faith  and  of  the 
empire,  Ephrem  hastened  to  place  himself  by  the 
side  of  the  holy  bisliop  Jacobns,  who  had  baptized  him; 
the  two  together,  first  upon  the  breach,  superintended  the 
works  of  defence,  which  ended  in  the  defeat  of  the  Persians. 
Some  years  later,  when  Julian,  directing  his  arms  against 
Persia,  at  the  height  of  the  persecution  which  he  had  re- 
newed, seemed  to  threaten  Edessa,  which  boasted  of  being 
the  earliest  converted  city  of  the  East,  Ephrem  sustained  the 
courage  of  the  inhabitants  by  his  discourses,  and  to  this  criti- 
cal moment  belongs  a  famous  oration  entitled  the  Pearl, 
designed  to  celebrate  under  that  83'mbol  the  incarnation  of 
Jesus  Christ,  the  pearl  of  great  price  of  the  Gospel,  and  in 
which  are  mingled  "  the  mystic  ardors  of  a  solitary  and  the 
zeal  of  a  Christian  soldier  hastening  to  his  martyrdom."  A 
faithful  observer  of  monastic  poverty,  in  the  will  which  he 
dictated  to  his  disciples,  and  in  which  he  describes  himself  as 
a  laborer  who  has  finished  his  day's  work,  and  a  merchant- 
traveller  who  returns  to  his  own  country,  he  declares  that 
he  has  nothing  to  bequeath  but  his  counsels  and  prayers  — 
for  Ephrem,  says  he,  "  has  not  even  a  staff  or  a  wallet."     His 

"  St.  Grecjouy  Ntss,  Encomium  Ephram.  Syr.,  p.  11,  quoted  by  M.  de 
Broglie,  froin  whom  we  have  borrowed  many  of  the  facts  which  follow. 


IN    THE   EAST.  190 

last  words  were  a  protest  in  favor  of  the  dignity  -jf  man  re- 
deemed by  the  Son  of  God.  The  young  and  pious  daughter  of 
the  governor  of  Edessa  having  come  in  tears  to  receive  his  last 
sigli,  he  made  her  swear  on  his  deathbed  to  use  no  longer  a 
litter  carried  by  slaves,  because  the  apostle  has  said,  "  The 
head  of  man  should  bear  no  yoke  but  that  of  Christ."  ^^ 

In  his  discourses,  this  holy  doctor  condemns  severely 
those  vices  and  passions  of  the  world  which  hid  themselves 
under  the  robe  of  the  monk.  He  denounces  the  contrast, 
then  too  frequent,  between  the  exterior  and  the  heart  of  the 
Religious  —  between  the  appearance  and  reality.  He  laments 
already  the  relaxation  of  ancient  severity .^^  And  yet  he  had 
lived  for  several  years  among  the  hermits  of  Mesopotamia, 
who  reduced  themselves  in  some  degree  to  the  state  of 
savages,  and  who  were  surnamed  Brovjsers  (Soaxoi^^  because 
they  had  no  other  food  than  the  mountain  herbs,  v/hich 
they  cut  every  morning  with  a  knife,  and  ate  uncooked.^oo 
While  he  was  still  living,ioi  a  Syrian  monastery  opened  its 
doors  to  St.  Simeon  Stylites,  who,  from  the  top  of  st.  Simeon 
his  column,  where  he  remained  forty-eight  j^ears,  ^fyi'tes.. 
was  to  present  to  the  world  the  spectacle  of  the  strangest 
and  rudest  penitence  which  it  had  yet  seen.  Such  prodigies 
were,  no  doubt,  necessary  to  strike  the  imagination  and  seize 
the  conviction  of  the  independent  and  nomadic  people  of 
these  deserts ;  for  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  Roman 
world  under  Constantine  and  his  immediate  successors  was 
still  half  pagan.  The  rural  districts  especially  remained 
faithful  to  idolatry.  The  monks  succeeded  at  last  in  shaking 
their  faith  and  converting  them.  Villages  and  entire  tribes 
were  led  to  the  fliith  of  Christ  by  the  preaching  of  St.  Hila- 
rion  in  Syria,  and  of  St.  Moyse  among  the  Saracens.  Other 
monks  converted  the  Phcenicians.i*^^  g{;_  gimeon  Stylites 
saw,  at  the  foot  of  his  column,  not  only  his  compatriots  the 
Syrians,  but  also  Persians,  Arabs,  Armenians,  and  even  men 
who  had  come  from  Spain,  Britain,  and  Gaul,  to  look  on  that 
prodigy  of  austerity,  that  slayer  of  his  own  body.  He  re- 
warded them  for  their  curiosity  and  admiration  by  preaching 
to  them  the  Christian  truth.  They  went  away  Christians. 
The  Arabs  came  in  bands  of  two  or  three  hundred  ;  and  thou- 

**  See  in  the  Tableau  de  V Eloquence  Chretienne  au  iV  Siecle.  by  M.  Ville- 
main,  his  excellent  sketch  of  St.  Ephrem.  —  Comp.  Albert  de  Broglie,  iii 
191;  iv.  356. 

®^  Ephrem  Syr.,  t.  iii.  p.  639;  ap.  Moehler,  op.  cit.,  p.  378. 

""'   SOZOMENE,  vi.  83. 

'°'  RoswEYDH,   Vit.  Pair.,  p.  176.  •"''  Moehler,  p.  220. 


200  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

sands  among  them,  according  to  Theodoret,  an  eyewitness, 
enlightened  by  the  light  which  descended  from  the  column  of 
the  Stylite,  abjured  at  his  feet  their  idols  and  their  vices, 
and  returned  Christians  into  their  deserts.^^^ 

With  such  men  for  chiefs  and  masters,  the  monks  spread 
their  own  manner  of  life  simultaneously  with  the  instructions 
of  the  faith, into  all  Mesopotamia,  into  Armenia,and  beyond  the 
Euphrates  as  far  as  Persia  and  India  ;  ^o*  and  the  native  Re^ 
ligious  of  these  distant  regions  were  seen  arriving  in  bands 
to  join  the  pilgrims  of  the  West,  of  Africa,  and  of  Asia  Minor, 
who  came  to  adore  at  Jerusalem  the  traces  of  the  passion  of 
our  Saviour.i°^ 

Martr  Thcse  monks   were   not   only   missionaries,   but 

monks  in  oftcn  also  martvrs  of  the  faith  among  these  idola- 
trous  nations.  One  day  that  the  sons  of  the  king  of 
Persia  -were  at  the  chase,  three  monks  were  led  before  them 
who  had  been  found  taken  in  one  of  the  immense  nets  which 
the  royal  huntsmen  held  over  the  surface  of  a  whole  country. 
At  the  sight  of  these  shaggy  and  almost  savage  men,  the 
princes  asked  one  of  them  if  he  was  a  man  or  a  spirit.^*'^ 
The  monk  answered:  '-I  am  a  man  and  a  sinner,  who  am 
com(i  here  to  weep  for  my  sins,  and  to  adore  the  living  Son 
oi'  God."  The  princes  replied  that  there  was  no  God  but 
the  sun  :  a  controversy  ensued,  and  ended  by  the  execution 
of  the  three  hermits,  whom  the  young  princes  amused  them- 
selves by  taking  as  a  target  for  their  arrows.  The  last  and 
most  illustrious  of  these  martyrs  was  Anastasius,  who  was  a 
soldier  of  Chosroes  when  the  true  cross  was  taken  by  that 
prince  :  the  sight  of  the  sacred  wood  made  him  a  Christian ; 
25th janu-  he  wont  to  Jerusalem  to  become  a  monk;  taken 
ary,  C28.  prisoner  by  the  Persians,  he  endured  tortures  and 
death  clothed  in  his  monk's  robe,  which  he  called  his  dress 
of  glory.!*^' 

'"^  Theodoret,  Philothaus,  c.  26. 

'"*  "  llli  enim  Syros  fere  omnes,  et  ex  Persis  ac  Saracenis  quamplurimos 
ad  religioneni  suam  traduxerunt."  —  Theodoret,  Relig.  Hist.,  lib.  vi.  c.  34. 

105  a  j)g  India,  Perside,  Ethiopia,  monaehorum  quotidie  turmas  suscipinius." 
—  S.  IIiERON.,  Ep.  7.  ad  Latam,  c.  2. 

los  i.  Miserunt  retia  in  longum  per  raillia  quadraginta.  .  .  .  Inventus  est 
antem  senex  cum  duobus  discipulis  intra  retia.  Et  cum  vidisseteum  pilosuni 
et  terribileni  aspectu.  .   .  .  "  —  Vit.  Pair.,  lib.  v.  c.  7. 

"^'  '•  Ha;c  vestis  est  gloriatio  niea."  —  Act.  SS.  Bolland.,  t.  ii.  Jan.,  p.  433. 
His  head  was  transferred  to  Rome,  and  deposited  in  the  abbey  of  SS.  Vin- 
cent and  Anastasius  ad  aquas  Salvias,  near  the  place  where  St.  Paul  was  be- 
headed It  is  still  venerated  there,  where  is  also  admired  a  picture  which  re- 
presents his  martyrdom,  which  is  said  to  liave  come  from  Persia  with  hi* 
relics,  and  wliich  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  monuments  of  Christian  art. 


IN   THE   EAST.  201 

Up  to  this  period  all  these  saints  and  monks  lived  in  groups, 
under  the  sway  of  a  discipline,  always  severe,  but  change- 
able, and  varied  according  to  the  climates  and  individual 
instincts.  This  did  not  sufficiently  preserve  zeal  from  ex- 
cess, nor  weakness  from  scandalous  falls.  Certain  primitive 
rules  indeed  existed,  which  circulated  under  the  name  of 
Anthony,  of  Macarius,  of  Pacome  especially,  and  of  his  suc- 
cessor Orsiesus,  but  the}'  had  neither  the  authority  nor  the 
extent  necessary  to  form  a  lasting  legislation.  Then  God 
raised  up  a  great  man,  St.  Basil.  His  glory  consists  not 
only  in  having  vanquished  heresy  and  made  head  against  em- 
perors, but  in  having  given  to  the  monastic  order  a  consti- 
tution which  was  shortly  adopted  by  all  the  monks  of  the 
East. 

Born  in  Cappadocia  of  a  rich  and  noble  family,  g^  j^^^^jj 
educated  with  care  at  Cgesarea,  at  Constantinople,  — 
and  above  all  at  Athens,  he  had  there  contracted 
with  his  young  compatriot,  Gregory  of  Nazianzus,  that  indis- 
soluble friendship,  austere  and  impassioned,  which  fills  so  fine 
a  page  in  the  history  of  Christian  affections  and  literature. 
''  It  was,"  says  Gregory,  ''  one  soul  which  had  two  bodies. 
Eloquence,  the  thing  in  the  world  which  excites  the  greatest 
desire,  inspired  us  with  an  equal  ardor,  but  without  raising 
any  jealousy  between  us  :  we  lived  in  each  other.  .  .  .  We 
knew  only  two  paths :  the  first  and  the  most  beloved,  that 
which  led  towards  the  Church  and  its  doctors;  the  other  less 
exalted,  which  conducted  us  to  the  school  and  our  masters."  ^^^ 
Excited  by  the  emulation  which  was  born  of  that  tender  in- 
timacy, Basil  drank  largely  at  the  fountains  of  profane 
knowledge  and  philosophy.  From  these  he  drew  enough  of 
noble  pride  to  refuse  all  the  dignities  that  were  offered  to 
him.  But  his  sister  Macrine,  who,  despite  her  rare  beauty,  in 
consequence  of  the  death  of  her  betrothed,  remained  a  virgin, 
soon  initiated  him  into  a  still  higher  and  more  disinterested 
philosophy.  He  quitted  the  schools  to  travel  in  search  of  tlie 
saints  and  monks  :  he  lived  with  them  in  Egypt,  in  Palestine, 
and  in  Syria ;  he  recognized  the  ideal  of  his  soul,  which  was 
enamored  at  once  of  intellect  and  piety,  in  these  men,  whc 
appeared  to  him  travellers  here  below  and  citizens  of  heaven. 
He  made  up  his  mind  to  live  as  they  did  ;  and  having  returned 
to  his  own  country,  he  retired  at  twenty-six  into  his  paternal 
domain,  which  was  situated  in  Pontus. 

*•*  S.  Gkeg.  Nazun.,  orat.  43.     Compare  A.  de  Bboglie,  iii.  288. 


202  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

It  was  a  savage  place,  barred  by  profound  forests  from  all 
access  of  men,  situated  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain  environed 
with  woods,  deep  valleys,  .and  a  rapid  river,  which  fell  foam- 
ing over  a  precipice.  In  this  cherished  retreat,  which  his 
imagination,  inspired  by  classic  influences,  compared  to  the 
isle  of  Calypso,  he  could  cultivate  at  ease  that  taste  for  the 
study  of  God's  grandeur  and  perfection  in  the  works  of  Na- 
ture, which  inspired  him  with  his  famous  discourse  upon  the 
Six  days  of  Creation,  known  under  the  name  of  the  Hexamr 
eron.  And  there,  seeing  in  the  distance  the  Euxine  Sea,  he 
was  naturally  led  to  connect  the  various  aspects  and  tL>ousand 
sounds  of  the  sea  with  those  of  the  human  crowd,  which  he 
believed  himself  to  have  left  forever,  and  that  contemplation 
dictated  to  him  a  passage  too  fine  not  to  be  quoted.  '•'  The 
sea  offers  us  a  lovely  spectacle  when  its  surface  is  bright,  or 
when,  rippling  gently  under  the  wind,  it  is  tinted  with  pur- 
ple and  green  :  when,  without  beating  violently  upon  the 
shore,  it  surrounds  the  earth,  and  caresses  her  with  its  wild 
embraces.  But  it  is  not  this  which  constitutes  in  the  eyes 
of  God  the  grace  and  beauty  of  the  sea  ;  it  is  its  works  which 
make  it  beautiful.  See  here  the  immense  reservoir  of  water 
which  irrigates  and  fertilizes  the  earth,  and  which  penetrates 
into  her  bosom  to  reappear  in  rivers,  in  lakes,  and  in  refresh- 
ing fountains ;  for  in  traversing  the  earth  it  loses  its  bitter- 
ness, and  is  almost  civilized  by  the  distance  it  travels.  Thou 
art  beautiful,  oh  sea  !  because  in  thy  vast  bosom  thou  re- 
ceivest  all  the  rivers,  and  remainest  between  thy  shores 
without  ever  overleaping  them.  Thou  art  beautiful,  because 
the  clouds  rise  from  thee.  Thou  art  beautiful  with  thine 
isles  spread  over  thy  surface,  because  thou  unitest  by  com- 
merce the  most  distant  countries  —  because,  instead  of 
separating  them,  thou  joinest  the  nations,  and  bearest  to  the 
merchant  his  wealth  and  to  life  its  resources.  But  if  the  sea 
is  beautiful  before  men  and  before  God,  how  much  more 
beautiful  is  that  multitude,  that  human  sea,  which  has  its 
sounds  and  murmurs,  voices  of  men,  of  women,  and  of  children, 
resounding  and  rising  up  to  the  throne  of  God  ''  ^^f 

Upon  the  other  bank  of  the  river  Iris,  the  mother  and  sister 
of  Basil,  forgetting  tlieir  nobility  and  wealth,  prepared  them- 
selves for  heaven,  living  on  terms  of  complete  equality  with 
their  servants  and  other  pious  virgins.  He  himself  was  fol- 
lowed into  his  retreat  by  the  friend  of  his  youth,  by  his  two 

'*"'  I  borrow  from  M.  St.  Marc  Girardin,  a  translation  which  has  not  been 
surpassed. 


IN    THE   EAST.  .  203 

brothers,!^^  and  an  always  increasing  crowd  of  disciples.  He 
then  gave  himself  up  entirely  to  austerities,  to  the  study  of 
sacred  literature,  and  to  the  cultivation  of  the  soil,  eating 
only  hard  bread,  lighting  no  fire,  but  fed  and  warmed  by  the 
ardor  of  his  ze:il  for  the  service  of  God  and  the  salvation  of 
souls.  In  that  rude  apprenticeship  he  strengthened  his  soul 
for  the  great  conflicts  which  raised  him  to  the  first  rank 
among  the  doctors  of  the  Church  and  holy  pontiffs.  When 
Julian  the  Apostate  threatened  the  world  Avith  a  return  to 
that  paganism  which  was  scarcely  vanquished  and  far  from 
being  extripated,  St.  Basil  was  drawn  by  force  out  of  hia 
solitude  to  be  ordained  a  priest,  and  some  years  after  Avas 
made  Bishop  of  Ccesarea.  It  is  well  known  how  he  astonished 
the  world  by  the  superiority  of  his  genius  and  his  eminent 
virtue.  Ecclesiastical  histor}'  does  not  contain  a  more  glori- 
ous episode  than  tlie  narrative  of  his  intrepid  and  calm  resist- 
ance to  the  attempts  of  the  Emperor  Valens  against  the  faith 
of  Nicfea,  and  his  celebrated  conference  with  the  prefect  of 
the  prgetorium  Modestus.  "  I  have  never  met  with  so  much 
boldness,"  said  the  minister  of  the  imperial  will.  ''  Doubt- 
less," answered  the  saint,  "  you  have  never  met  a  bishop." 
On  going  out  from  that  conference,  the  prime  minister  said 
to  his  master,  ''  Sire,  we  are  vanquished  ;  this  bishop  is  above 
menaces ;  we  have  no  alternative  but  force."  ^^^  The  em- 
peror drew  back,  and  the  Church  hailed  Basil  as  the  hero  of 
the  time.  However,  his  great  soul  Avas  as  tender  as  strong ; 
his  unshaken  faith  longed  ahvays  for  a  reconciliation  Avith 
the  misled  Christians.  Saddened  by  the  divisions  of  the 
Church  in  the  East,  he  passionately  implored  help  from  the 
West,  from  Pope  Damasus,  and,  above  all,  from  his  illustrious 
rival  in  glory  and  courage,  St.  Athanasius.  He  understood 
so  well  the  necessity  of  being  gentle  Avith  the  Aveak,  that  a 
certain  leaning  toAvards  error  Avas  imputed  to  him,  from 
which  Athanasius  defended  him  by  tAvo  memorable  epistles 
against  the  accusations  of  those  extravagant  minds,  which 
are  to  be  found  in  all  ages,  pusillanimous  at  the  moment  of 
peril,  bold  and  implacable  before  and  after  the  storm. 

The  monks  whom  he  had  trained  were  the  most  useful 
auxiliaries  of  orthodoxy  against  the  Arians  and  semi-Arians, 
enemies  of  the  divinity  of  Jesus  Christ  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  They  exercised  the  most  salutary  influence  on  all 
the  clergy.    Thus  he  continued  to  govern  and  multiply  them, 

""  St.  Gregory  of  Nysse,  and  St.  Peter  of  Sebaste. 
"'  S.  Gkegok.  Mazianz.,  pp.  350,  351. 


204  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

as  priest  and  as  bishop.  He  regarded  them  as  the  richest 
treasure  of  his  diocese.  He  called  them  into  his  episcopal 
city;  then,  traversing  the  towns  and  plains  of  Pontiis,  he  re- 
newed the  aspect  of  that  province  by  collecting  into  regular 
monasteries  the  isolated  monks,  by  regulating  the  exercise 
of  prayer  and  psalmody,  the  care  of  the  poor,  and  the  prac- 
tice of  labor,  and  b}^  opening  numerous  convents  of  nuns.^^^ 
He  became  thus  the  first  type  of  those  monk-bishops  who 
subsequently  became  the  benefactors  of  all  Europe  and  the 
originators  of  Christian  civilization  in  the  West.  He  seemed 
to  have  had  especially  in  view  the  union  of  active  with  con- 
templative life,  and  of  connecting  the  monks  with  the  clergy 
and  Christian  people  that  they  might  become  its  light  and 
strength. 1-3  Such  is  the  spirit  of  his  numerous  writings  upon 
monastic  life,  which  demonstrate  the  grandeur  of  his  genius, 
not  less  than  his  epistles  and  doctrinal  works,  which  have 
gained  him  the  name  of  the  Christian  Plato.  Such  especially 
appears  his  famous  Rule,  which  shortly  became  the  code  of 
religious  life,  and  was  eventually  the  sole  rule  recognized  in 
the  East.  Drawn  out  in  the  form  of  answers  to  two 
Basil.*'  '  hundred  and  three  dift'erent  questions  upon  the  ob- 
ligations of  the  solitary  life  and  upon  the  meaning 
of  the  most  important  texts  of  holy  Scripture,  and  partly 
adapted  to  communities  of  both  sexes,  it  bore  throughout  the 
stamp  of  the  good  sense  and  moderation  which  characterized 
its  author.ii*  It  insisted  upon  the  dangers  of  absolute  soli- 
tude for  humility  and  charity,  upon  the  necessity  of  minute 
obedience,  upon  the  abnegation  of  all  personal  property  as 
of  all  individual  inclination,  and,  above  all,  upon  the  perpetual 
duty  of  labor.  Ho  Avould  not  allow  even  fasting  to  be  an 
obstacle  to  work:  ''  If  fasting  hinders  you  from  labor,"  says 
he,  "  it  is  better  to  eat  like  the  workmen  of  Christ  that  you 
are."  This  was  the  pivot  of  monastic  life,  according  to  this 
patriarch  of  an  institution,  which  so  many  ignorant  and  idle 
generations  have  not  blushed  to  accuse  of  indolence.  '^  Ath- 
letes, workmen  of  Jesus  Christ,"  says  this  great  bishop,  "you 

"^  RuFFiNus,  Hist    EccUs.,  lib.  ii.  c.  9. 

iij  <k  Monasteriis  exstructis,  ita  monachorum  institutum  temperavit,  ut  soil 
tarise  atquc  actuosse  vitae  utilitates  prasclare  simul  conjungeret."  —  Bjev.  Rom., 
die  14  Jiinii. 

114  u  jf  gt.  Anthony  was  the  restorer  of  cenobitical  life,  if  St  Pacome 
gave  it  a  better  form,  it  is  St.  Basil  who  has  brouglitit  to  entire  perfection,  in 
binding  by  formal  vows  those  who  attnch  themselves  to  this  manner  of  life." 
■ —  Helyot,  Hist,  des  Ordres  Monastiques,  1st  part,  c.  13.  Compare  Bdl- 
TEAU,  Hist,  des  Moines  d' Orient,  pp.  30.5,  402. 


IN   THE    EAST.  205 

have  engaged  3^ourselves  to  fight  for  Him  all  the  day,  to  bear 
all  its  heat.  Seek  not  repose  before  its  end ;  wait  for  the 
evening,  that  is  to  say,  the  end  of  life,  the  hour  at  which  the 
householder  shall  come  to  reckon  with  you,  and  pay  you  your 
wages." 

There  is  a  name  inseparable  from  the  great  name  g^  orco'ory 
of  Basil,  that  of  another  doctor  of  the  Church,  Greg-  of  Nazmn 
ory  of  Nazianzus,  the  tender  i'riend  of  Basil's  heart 
and  youth,  the  companion  of  his  studies  and  his  retirement, 
the  associate  of  his  struggles  and  victories  for  orthodoxy, 
and,  after  his  premature  death,  the  celebrator  of  his  glory. 
Like  him,  but  not  without  a  struggle,  Gregory  had  renounced 
the  world,  reserving  of  all  his  temporal  possessions  only  his 
eloquence,  to  employ  it  in  the  service  of  God.  "  I  abandon 
to  you  all  the  rest,'"'  said  he,  addressing  himself  to  the  pagans, 
at  the  moment  when  Julian  interdicted  to  the  Christians  even 
the  study  of  letters  —  "wealth,  birth,  glory,  authority,  and 
all  possessions  here  below,  the  charm  of  which  vanishes  like 
a  dream :  but  1  put  my  hand  upon  eloquence,  and  regret 
none  of  the  labors,  nor  journeys  by  land  and  sea  which  I  have 
undertaken  to  acquire  it."  "^  And  later  he  added,  "  One  sole 
object  in  the  world  has  possessed  my  heart :  the  glory  of  elo- 
quence. I  have  sought  it  in  all  the  earth,  in  the  west,  in 
the  east,  and  especially  at  Athens,  that  ornament  of  Greece. 
I  have  labored  long  years  for  it ;  but  this  glory  also  I  come 
to  lay  at  the  feet  of  Christ,  under  the  empire  of  that  divine 
word  which  effaces  and  throws  into  the  shade  the  perishable 
and  changeful  form  of  all  human  thought."  ^^^  He  had  be- 
sides shared  with  Basil  his  solitary  and  laborious  life,  and 
when  they  were  both  drawn  from  that  to  be  condemned  to 
the  still  more  painful  toils  of  the  episcopate,  Gregory  loved 
to  recall  to  his  friend  the  pleasant  times  when  they  cultivated 
together  their  monastic  garden.  "  Who  shall  bring  back  to 
us,"  he  wrote  to  his  friend,  "  those  days  when  we  labored  to- 
gether from  morning  till  evening?  when  sometimes  we  cut 
wood,  sometimes  we  hewed,* stones?  when  we  planted  and 
watered  our  trees,  when  we  drew  together  that  heavy  wagon, 
the  marks  of  which  have  so  long  remained  on  our  hands?  "^^"^ 
He  was  called  to  Constantinople  to  confound  the  heretics 
there;  and  it  is  well  known  what  glory  he  won  by  his  cour- 
age and  that   eloquence  which  had  at  last  found  its  true 

"*  S.  Greg.  Nazianz.,  Oper.,  t.  i   p.  132,  translation  of  M.  Villeraain, 
"*  Carmma,  p.  636,  translation  of  M.  de  Broglie. 
"'  S.  GuKG.  Nazianz.,  Ep.  9  and  13. 
VOL.  I.  18 


206  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

element,  an(J  Ijow  the  will  of  the  Emperor  Theodosius,  and 
the  suffrages  of  the  second  oecumenical  council,  ele- 
vated him,  in  spite  of  himself,  to  the  patriarchal 
chair,  where  he  would  employ  against  the  Arians  only  the 
weapons  of  persuasion.  "  Let  us  never  be  insolent  when  the 
times  are  favorable,"  he  had  already  said  to  the  orthodox, 
delivered  from  the  persecution  of  Julian — "let  us  never 
show  ourselves  hard  to  those  who  have  done  us  wrong :  let 
us  not  imitate  the  acts  which  we  have  blamed.  Let  us  re- 
joice that  we  have  escaped  from  peril,  and  abhor  everything 
Ihat  tends  to  reprisals.  Let  us  not  think  of  exiles  and  pro- 
scriptions; drag  no  one  before  the  judge  ;  let  not  the  whip 
remain  in  our  hands  ;  in  a  word,  do  nothing  like  that  which 
you  have  Buffered."  ^^^  He  descended  from  that  elevation  as 
promptly  as  he  could,  happy  to  leave  the  centre  of  theologi- 
cal dissensions,  and  of  that  corruption  the  excesses  of  which 
be  had  depicted  with  so  much  boldness  and  grief.  It  was  to 
re-enter  into  a  rustic  solitude  in  his  native  country. 
There  he  ended  his  life,  after  two  years  divided  be- 
tween the  hardest  austerities  of  monastic  life  and  the  cultiva- 
tion of  poetry,  which  he  continued  to  pursue,  that  the  pagans 
might  not  be  left  in  sole  possession  of  the  palm  of  literature, 
and  also  to  give  a  free  course  to  the  noble  and  delicate  sad- 
ness of  his  soul.i^^  His  graceful,  melancholy,  and  sometimes 
sublime  verses  have  gained  him  a  phice  almost  as  high  as  his 
profound  knowledge  of  divine  things  ;  and  the  monastic  order 
may  boast  of  having  produced  in  him  the  father  of  Christian 
poetry,  as  well  as  tlie  doctor  who  has  merited  the  name  of 
Theologian  of  the  East. 

No  other  man  had  painted  monastic  life  with  an  admiration 
so  impassioned  as  the  illustrious  friend  of  Basil  in  his  dis- 
course upon  the  death  of  Julian,  in  that  passage  where  he 
apostrophizes  him  as  the  enemy  of  the  Ciiurch,  confronting 
him  with  "  those  men  who  are  on  earth,  j'et  above  the  earth, 
...  at  once  bound  and  free,  subdued  and  unsubduable,  .  .  . 
who  have  two  lives,  one  which  they  despise,  another  which 
alone  fills  all  their  thoughts  ;  become  immortal  by  mortifica- 

*'^  Orat.  V.  36,  37.  —  The  following  passage  is  also  well  worthy  of  remark  : 
"  Non  odiani  signifioando  et  conviciando  sollicite  et  anxie  verba  faciebam, 
dolens,  non  plagas  infigens.  Leniter  verbis  et  convenienter  compellabam,  ut 
verbi  defensor  niisericordis  et  mansueti,  ac  neminem  conterentis.  Hsec 
meis  inscripta  erant  tabulis."  —  Oper.,  ed.  Caillau.,  t.  ii.  p.  737. 

"*  See  the  charming  pages  which  M.  Villemain  lias  di' voted  to  the  poetry 
of  St.  Gregory  of  Nazianzus  in  his  Tableau  de  V Eloquence  Chretienne  au  iv» 
Sicclc, 


IN   THE    EAST.  207 

tion  ;  stT  angers  to  all  desire,  and  full  of  the  calm  of  the  divine 
love  ;  who  drink  at  the  fountain  of  its  light,  and  already  re- 
flect its  ra^ys  ;  whose  angelical  psalmodies  fill  all  the  watches 
of  the  night,  and  whose  rapturous  souls  already  emigrate  to- 
wards heaven ;  .  .  .  solitary,  and  mingling  in  the  concerts 
of  another  life,  chastising  all  voluptuousness,  but  plunged  in 
ineffable  delights  ;  whose  tears  drown  sin  and  purity  the 
world ;  whose  extended  hands  stay  the  flames,  tame  the 
beasts,  blunt  the  swords,  overturn  the  battalions,  and  come 
now,  be  assured,  to  confound  thy  impiety,  even  though  thou 
shouldst  escape  some  days,  and  play  thy  comedy  with  thy 
demuns."  ^^o 

Thus,  a  century  after  Anthony  had  inaugurated  xho  monks 
cenobitical  life  in  the  deserts  of  Egypt,  it  was  firmly  ^un^jf^^' 
established  in  Asia  Minor,  and  carried  as  far  as  the  inaiithe 
shores  of  the  Eusine,  by  Basil  and  his  illustrious 
friend.  From  that  time  no  province  of  the  Oriental  Church 
was  without  monks.  They  established  themselves  like  au 
orthodox  garrison  in  the  midst  and  at  the  gates  of  Constanti- 
nople, the  principal  centre  of  the  heresies  which  desolated 
the  Church  in  the  fourth  century.  Acquiring  in  solitude  and 
labor  that  strength  which  contemporary  society,  enslaved  and 
degraded  by  the  imperial  rule,  had  lost,  the  monks  and  nuns 
formed  already  an  entire  nation,  with  the  rule  of  Basil  for 
their  code  ;  a  nation  distinct  at  once  from  the  clergy  and 
from  the  common  believers  ;  a  new  and  intrepid  people, 
spreading  everj'where,  and  multiplying  unceasingly,  and  in 
which  neither  the  friends  nor  the  enemies  of  the  Church  could 
fail  to  recognize  her  principal  force. 

Her  enemies  especially  did  not  deceive  themselves  violent 
on  this  score,  and  from  thence  arose  a  permanent  ay'aUist'tLi'e 
and  desperate  opposition  against  the  new  institution.  =^""^8. 
This  arose  from  various  sources,^^^  but  the  efforts  and  results 
by  which  it  showed  itself  were  identical.  The  pagans  and 
Arians,  wdio,  united,  formed  the  great  majority  of  the  popu- 
lation of  the  empire,  showed  equal  virulence.  All  the  savants, 
philosophers,  and  men  of  letters  among  the  pagans,  were  em- 
ulous in  their  protest.  The  impassioned  activity  of  the 
monks  against  idolatry,  their  efforts,  more  and  more  success- 
ful, to  extirpate,  it  from  the  heart  of  the  rural  population, 
naturally  exasperated  the  last  defenders  of  the  idols.  Be* 
sides,  the  voluntary  sufiering  which  they  preached  and  prao 

""'  Orat.  iv.,  M.  de  Broglie's  translation. 
*^'  MoEHLEK,  op.  cit.,  p.  201. 


208  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

tised,  the  subjection  to  which  they  reduced  their  bodies,  the 
war  which  tliey  declared  with  nature,  were  the  antipodes  of 
Gr(»ek  wisdom.  All  the  wit  that  remained  in  that  worn-out 
society  was  exercised  at  their  expense.  The  rhetorician 
Libanus  12^  pursued  them  Avith  his  mockeries,  accused  them 
of"  making  their  virtue  consist  in  wearing  mourning,  and 
hoped  to  wound  them,  by  calling  them  hlach  men}-^  The 
sophist  Eunapius  lamented  that  it  was  enough  for  any  one. 
as  ho  says,  to  appear  in  public  with  a  black  robe,  in  order  to 
exercise  tyrannical  authority  with  impunity.  He  depicted 
the  monks  as  men  whose  lives  were  not  only  base  but  crimi- 
nal.^^*  The  echo  that  all  these  sarcasms  would  awaken  amid 
the  corruption  of  the  two  Romes  may  be  supposed.  But 
amongst  these  vain  protests  of  a  vanquished  world,  those 
who  went  farthest  in  rage  and  rancor  against  the  Religious 
were  the  rich,  and  heads  of  families,  who  saw  their  children 
and  heirs  abandon  them  to  bury  themselves  in  solitude  and 
penitence  ;  for  it  was  then,  as  it  has  always  been  since,  in 
the  bosoms  of  the  most  opulent  families  that  these  sacrifices 
were  consummated. 

Arian  per-  The  Ariaus  wcro  still  more  implacable  than  the 
ancTtax"-^  pagaus.  The  tendency  of  these  enemies  of  the 
iugs.  divinity  of  Christ  was  in  everything  to  abuse,  de- 

grade,  and  restrain  the  spirit  of  Christianity.  How  should 
the  monastic  life,  which  was  its  most  magnificent  develop- 
ment, escape  their  fury?  The  war  between  them  and  the 
monks  was  therefore  long  and  cruel.  The  emperors  De- 
came  their  accomplices.  The  persecution  which  paganism 
had  scarcely  time  to  light  up  to  its  own  advantage  under 
Julian,  was  pitiless  under  the  Arian  Coustantius,  and  mora 
skilful,  without  being  more  victorious,  under  the  Arian 
Valens.  In  the  time  of  Constantius  entire  monasteries,  with 
the  monks  they  contained,  were  burnt  in  Egypt ;  and  after 
the  death  of  Athanasius,  in  the  frightful  persecution  which 
the  intruder  Lucius,  imposed  by  Valens,  raised  in  Alexandria, 
a  troop  of  imperial  soldiers  ravaged  the  solitude  of  Nitria, 
and  massacred  its  inhabitants.^-^  Twenty-three  monks  and 
eleven  bishops,  all  children  of  the  desert,  are  named  among 
the   confessors  of  the   orthodox   faith  who  were  then  con- 


•'-'*   Oratiopro  Templis,  pp.  10,  13,  28,  30,  49;  ed.  1G39. 

'^^  Black  was  not  yet,  however,  exclusively  adopted  by  the  monks  at  the 
time  when  Libanus  wrote.  It  is  supposed  that  St.  Anthony,  and  many  monks 
contemporary  with  him,  were  clothed  in  white. 

*-*  EuNAP.,  in  Adesio,  Vit.  Philos.,  c.  4.         '**  Ruffxn.,  liv.  ii.  c.  3,  4> 


IN    THE   EAST.  209 

demned  to  the  mines  or  to  banish ment.^^e  ^[^q  s]a%7erj  of  the 
unfortunate  rich  men  whom  the  imperial  government  con- 
demned to  fill  municipal  offices  under  the  name  of  curials  and 
of  decurions,  and  to  be  held  perpetually  responsible  to  the 
treasury,  is  known.  In  that  age  of  fetters,  this  chain  seemed 
the  hardest  of  all.^-'^  Many  sought  to  break  it  by  taking 
refuge  in  the  voluntary  servitude  of  the  cloister.  The  Ariana 
profited  by  that  pretext  to  suggest  to  the  Emperor  Valcns  a 
law  which  commanded  the  Count  of  the  East  to  search  out 
the  deserts  of  the  Thebaid,  and  seize  these  men,  whom  he 
calls  loose  deserters,  in  order  to  send  them  back  to  their 
civil  obligations.12^  Another  law  of  the  same  emperor,  in- 
spired by  the  same  spirit,  endeavored  to  compel  the  monks 
to  military  service,  and  beat  to  death  those  who  refused  to 
enroll  themselves.  A  great  number  were  sacrificed  for  this 
cause  in  Nitria.^^^  Most  of  the  magistrates  gladly  executed 
these  sovereign  orders ;  and  the  monks  were  everywhere 
snatched  from  their  retreats,  surrounded,  imprisoned,  beaten, 
and  exposed  to  most  tyrannical  harassments.^^*'  These  legal 
cruelties  encouraged  the  violence  of  private  persons  who 
were  animated  by  hatred  of  the  faith  of  Nicaea  or  of  Christian 
virtue.  Under  pretext  of  penetrating  into  the  monasteries, 
and  bringing  out  of  them  the  young  monks  fit  for  military 
service,  bands  of  ruffians  forced  their  gates,  invaded  their 
cells,  seized  the  monks,  and  threw  them  forth  into  the  streets 
or  upon  the  highways;  and  each  boasted  of  having  been  the 
first  to  denounce  a  monk,  to  strike  him,  or  to  cast  him  into  a 
dungeon.  "■  It  is  intolerable,"  said  these  friends  of  humanity, 
"to  see  men  free  and  noble,  healthy  and  strong,  masters  of 
all  the  joys  of  this  world,  condemn  themselves  to  a  life  so 
hard  and  so  revolting." 

Thus  the  philosophers  and  the  emperors,  the  heretics  and 
the  profligates,  were  leagued  against  the  cenobites,  and  the 
invectives  of  the  one  had  for  a  corollary  the  violence  of  the 

''''®  Theodoret,  iv.  22.  '"  Champagny,  op.  cit. 

'^*  This  law  is  of  373.  —  "  Quidam  ignaviae  sectatores,  desertis  civitatum 
muneribus,  captant  solitudines  ac  secreta,  et  specie  religiouis  cum  coetibus 
monazontum  congregantur.  Hos  igitur  atque  hujusniodi  intra  jEgyptum  de- 
prehensos  per  comitem  Orientis  erui  e  latebris  consulta  praeceptione  manda- 
vimus,  atque  ad  niunia  patriarum  subeunda  revocari."  —  Leg.  Quidam.  63; 
Cod.  Theod.,  lib.  xii.  tit.  i.,  De  Decur.  Compare  E.vynouard,  Hist,  du  Droii 
Municipal,  t.  i.  c.  11. 

129  u  jiulti  monachorum  Nitriae  per  tribunes  et  milites  caesi.  Valens,  lege 
data  ut  monachi  militarent,  nolentes  fustibus  interfici  jussit."  —  S.  Hieron. 

130  (1  Cum  inonachi  publica  magistratuum  auctoritate  extrema  paterontur." 
—  MoNTFAucoN,  ill  edit.  S.  Joan  Chrysost. 

18* 


210  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

others.  And  even  among  orthodox  Christiana  there  were 
critical  spirits  :  these  reproached  the  new  institutions  with 
withdrawing  its  disciples  from  public  life  ;  depriving  society 
of  the  beneficent  influence  of  those  who  were  best  qualified 
to  serve  it ;  stealing  away  from  their  duties  men  born  for 
the  good  of  their  neighbors  and  their  kind  ;  and,  in  short, 
opening  too  honorable  an  asylum  to  indolence,  un worthiness, 
and  hypocrisy. 

St.  John  it  was  then  that  God  raised  for  the  defence  of  his 

tom^con<ti  servants  another  great  man,  greater  by  his  elo- 
tutes  him  qucuce  than  any  that  had  hitherto  appeared  in  the 
apoio-istof  Church  —  St.  John  Chrysostom.,  the  Christian  Cicero, 
the  monks  3^^.^  ^t  Antioch,  his  frioud  and  the  companion  of 
his  studies  was  a  young  man  who  desired  to  embrace  the 
monastic  profession,  and  who  had  proposed  to  him  to  prelude 
it  by  life  in  common.  But  he  himself  was  destined  for  the 
bar  and  public  life.  He  was,  besides,  retained  in  the  world 
by  the  love  of  his  mother,  who  besought  him  not  to  render 
her  a  widow  for  the  second  time.  Suddenly  the  two  friends 
Avere  chosen  as  bishops.  Then  John,  convinced  of  his  un- 
worthiness.  abandoned  at  once  the  world,  his  friend,  and  his 
mother,  and  escaped  ordination  bj'  flying  into  solitude.^^^ 
But  in  that  solitude  he  discovered  a  new  world.  It  was  in 
the  mountains  near  Antioch  that  he  sought  a  retreat,  and 
these  mountains  were  already  peopled  by  monks,  emulators 
of  the  disciples  of  Anthony  and  Basil.  The  ardent  young 
man  took  one  of  them,  an  old  Syrian  of  formidable  aus- 
terity ,^32  for  his  master  and  guide  in  monastic  life,  and  de- 
voted four  years  to  that  spiritual  education.  Then  he  passed 
two  3^ears  alone,  secluded  in  a  cavern,  exclusively  occupied 
in  subduing  his  passions,  which  he  compares  to  wild  beasts. 
It  is  thus  that  he  prepared  unawares  the  power  of  that  elo- 
quence which  was  to  delight  his  contemporaries,  make  the 
very  churches  echo  with  the  applauses  which  it  raised,  and 
draw  out  of  the  cities  a  crowd  intoxicated  with  the  happiness 
of  hearing  him,  and  scarcely  sheltered  from  the  ardor  of  the 
sun  by  vast  awnings  suspended  over  them.  But,  above  all, 
it  was  in  this  rude  apprenticeship  that  he  learned  to  know 

'^'  He  himself  relates  this  touching  story  in  the  first  book  of  his  fine  trea- 
tise Ve  Sacerdotio.  In  hook  sixth  and  last  of  this  treatise,  he  points  out  to 
his  friend  Basil  that  ilie  life  of  the  priest  and  bishop  is  still  more  meritorious 
and  difficult  than  that  of  the  monk.  This  St.  Basil,  friend  of  Chrysostom, 
and  Bishop  of  Raphana,  nmst  not  be  confounded  with  the  great  St.  Basil 
Bishop  of  Cffisarea,  who  was  twenty  years  older  than  St.  J(  Im  Chrysostom. 

'^^  Pallad.,  Dial,  de  Vit.  S.Joan.  Chrysost.,  c.  5. 


IN    THE    EAST.  211 

the  coinl/ats  and  victories  of  the  monks.  He  derived  from 
this  the  right  and  the  power  of  speaking  the  truth  concerning 
their  life,  and  in  376,  at  the  height  of  tlie  persecution  of 
Valens,  he  Wrote  his  three  books  Against  the  Adversaries  of 
Monastic  Life^^^^  which  carried  his  fame  afar,  and  vindicated 
innocence  and  uprightness  with  the  incomparable  eloquence 
of  which  his  name  has  become  the  symbol. 

He  shows,  in  the  first  place,  by  the  example  of  the  Jew? 
and  pagan  emperors,  the  terrible  chastisements  which  are 
incurred  by  persecution  of  the  saints  and  friends  of  God, 
He  addresses  himself  then  to  those  fathers  whom  the  conver- 
sion of  their  sons  had  rendered  furious,  and  who  cried  out, 
1  burn,  I  rend,  T  burst  with  ragel^'^*  He  shows  them,  by 
examples  borrowed  even  from  profane  history,  the  grandeur 
and  fertility  of  sacrifice,  labor,  and  solitude.  He  paints  to 
us  one  of  these  young  and  noble  lords,  who  might  then  be 
seen  clothed  more  miserably  than  the  meanest  of  their  slaves, 
laboring  barefooted  on  the  earth,  lying  down  upon  liard 
couches,  emaciated  by  fasting,  and  he  asks  triumphantly  if 
there  had  ever  been  a  greater  or  more  noble  victory  of  hu- 
man courage  than  that  sacrifice  of  all  worldly  possessions  for 
the  possessions  of  the  soul.  Then  turning  to  the  Christian 
parents  who  have  been  persuaded  to  mingle  their  lamenta- 
tions with  the  rage  of  the  pagan  fathers,  he  crushes  them 
under  the  weight  of  the  divine  authority  and  reason  en- 
lightened by  faith.  That  admirable  invective  against  the 
parents  who,  opposing  the  vocation  of  their  children,  enslave 
and  kill  their  souls,  a  thousand  times  more  cruel  than  those 
who  murder  their  sons  or  sell  them  as  slaves  to  the  bar- 
barians, should  be  quoted  entire.  He  exhorts  them  ardently 
to  confide  the  education  of  their  sons  to  the  solitaries — t(> 
those  men  of  the  mountain  whose  lessons  he  himself  had  re- 
ceived. Pie  grants  that  they  might  afterwards  return  to  the 
world,  but  only  after  having  initiated  them  thus  in  Christian 
virtue,  for  the  monasteries  were  the  sole  asylums  for  purity 
of  manners  in  the  midst  of  universal  corruption.  These  are, 
he  says,  refuges  destined  to  fill  up  the  abyss  which  separates 
the  ideal  of  the  law  of  Christ  from  the  reality  of  the  manners 
of  Christians;  certainly  he  would  turn  no  one  from  public 
life  or  social  duties,  if  society  was  faithful  to  its  duties; 
monasteries  would  be  useless  if  the  cities  were  Christian. 
But  they  were  not  so,  and  to  prove  it,  the  holy  doctor  drew 

'■'■'  Adversus  Oppugnatores   VifcB  MonasticcB. 

134  u  Uror,  laceror,  disruaipor."  —  Chetsost.,  Adv.  0pp.   Vit.  Mon.,  ii.  8 


212  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

a  picture  of  the  corruption  which  he  had  witnessed  at  Antioch 
and  elsewhere. 

Nothing  could  be  more  repulsive  than  these  manners, 
wliich  reproduced  all  the  excesses  of  ancient  debauchery  in 
their  most  revolting  refinements.  How  deeply  everything 
was  poisoned  in  that  empire,  still  so  dazzling  for  its  strength 
and  immensity  —  how  little  the  conversion  of  the  emperors 
had  converted  the  world  —  and  how  miserable  was  the  con- 
dition of  souls  and  consciences  amid  that  over-vaunted  alli- 
tince  of  the  Church  and  the  empire  —  is  seen  there.  Society 
was  Christian  only  in  name ;  the  heart  and  mind  remained 
|)agan.  In  the  East  especially,  where  the  bishops  and  clergy 
were  infested  by  stubborn  and  incessantly-renewed  heresies, 
and  where  the  government  of  souls  was  either  absorbed  or 
rendered  impossible  by  the  perils  of  orthodoxy,  the  monks 
alone  offered  to  Christian  virtue  a  resource  and  a  hope. 
Thus  their  intrepid  apologist  never  names  monastic  life  other- 
wise than  as  the  true  philosophy.  It  was  this  that  made 
simple  Christians  more  powerful  than  emperors,  because  it 
put  them  above  the  vices  which  ravaged  the  empire  ;  and  he 
develops  this  idea  in  an  admirable  supplement  to  the  three 
books  of  his  apolog}'',  where  he  establishes  a  comparison  be- 
tween the  power,  the  wealth,  and  the  excellence  of  a  king, 
and  those  of  a  monk  living  in  the  true  and  Christian  phi- 
losophy. He  compares  them  in  war  and  in  peace,  in  their 
daily  and  nightly  occupations,  in  prosperity  and  in  adversity, 
in  life  and  in  death  ;  and  he  awards  the  palm  of  incontestable 
superiority  to  the  potentate  who  has  the  privilege  of  de- 
livering souls  from  the  tyranny  of  the  devil  by  his  prayers 
alone.13^ 

These  magnificent  pleadings  sum  up  all  the  arguments  in 
favor  of  monastic  life  with  an  eloquence  which  remains  always 
true.  They  have  never  been  better  expressed ;  and  it  is 
enough  to  re-read  and  repeat  them,  against  the  same  objec- 
tions, the  same  sophisms,  the  same  falsehoods  perpetually 
reproduced.  After  the  lapse  of  fifteen  centuries,  we  find 
these  noble  words  always  opportune  and  conclusive  ;  because 
in  that  constantly  renewed  struggle  between  the  friends  and 
enemies  of  monastic  life,  it  is  the  unvarying  ground  of  hu- 
man nature  —  it  is  the  soul  and  its  life  by  love  and  faith  —  it 
is  the  eternal  revolt  of  evil  against  the  sole  influence  which 
insures  victory  and  fertility  to  goodness,  the  spirit  of  sacri- 
fice —  which  are  brought  in  question. 

"*  "  Comparatio  potentias,  divitiarum  et  excellentiae  regis  cum  manachoin 
verissima  et  Christiana  philosophia  vivente." 


IN    THE    EAST.  213 

The  great  and  celebrated  doctor  did  not  content  himself 
with  this  brilliant  stroke.  He  continued,  during  all  the 
course  ot"  his  career,  to  defend  and  extol  the  monastic  insti- 
tution, not  only  as  he  admired  it  in  the  Thebaid,  where  the 
tabernacles  of  the  cenobites  shone,  as  he  says,  with  a  splen- 
dor purer  than  that  of  the  stars  in  heaven,^-^^  but,  even  such 
as  it  was  seen,  with  its  infirmities  and  divisions  already 
apparent,  throughout  the  East.  Almost  all  his  works  bear 
the  trace  of  this  predilection  ;  but  it  is  nowhere  more  visible 
than  in  his  Ninety  Homilies  upon  St.  Matthew,!^"  preached 
daring  his  sojourn  at  Antioch,  from  which  we  shall  quote 
a  curious  passage,  which  is  strangely  and  sadly  seasonable 
even  in  our  own  time. 

He  here  sets  forth  the  effect  which  the  contrast  of  monas- 
tic life  with  the  feasts,  pomps,  debauches,  and  prodigalities 
of  wealth  should  produce  upon  the  souls  of  the  poor.  He 
supposes  a  man  of  the  lower  classes  transported  suddenly 
into  the  mirlst  of  the  theatres  of  Constantinople,  where  volup- 
tuousness used  all  its  resources  to  stimulate  the  sated  appe- 
tite of  the  wealthy  classes  of  the  Lower  Empire,  and  he  adds  • 
"  The  poor  man  will  be  irritated  by  tliat  spectacle ;  he  will 
say  to  himself,  "  See  what  profligates,  what  debauchees  — 
children  perhaps  of  butchers  or  shoemakers,  and  even  of 
slaves —  see  what  luxury  they  displa}^ ;  whilst  I,  a  free  man. 
born  of  free  parents,  who  gain  my  living  by  honest  labor  — 
1  cannot  enjoy  such  happiness  even  in  a  dream  ;  "  and  so  say- 
ing he  goes  away,  penetrated  with  rage  and  sadness.  But 
among  the  monks  he  experiences  an  entirely  contrary  im- 
pression. There  he  sees  the  sons  of  the  rich,  the  offspring 
of  the  most  illustrious  races,  clad  in  garments  which  the 
poorest  would  not  wear,  and  joyful  of  that  mortification. 
Think  how  much  more  pleasant  his  poverty  will  appear  to 
him  !  AVhen  the  courtesan  at  the  theatre  exhibits  herself 
all  adorned  and  jewelled,  the  poor  man  mutters  w^itli  rage, 
thinking  that  his  own  wife  neither  wears  nor  possesses  any 
such  ornaments ;  and  the  rich  man  returns  to  his  house  in- 
flamed by  his  recollections,  and  already  the  captive  of  his 
guilty  desires,  to  scorn  and  ill-use  his  wife.  But  those  wiio 
return  from  visiting  the  monks  bring  with  them  only  peace 
and  happiness:  the  wife  finds  her  husband  delivered  fi-om  all 

-^^  llomil.  in  Maith.  8,  p.  147,  edit.  Gaume. 

"'  A  valuable  picture  of  the  internal,  life  of  monasteries,  and  a  comparison 
of  monastic  with  secular  life,  should  also  be  remarked  in  the  Homilies  on  the 
First  Epistle  to  Timothy,  t.  xi.  p.  476-479,  edit.  Gaume. 


214  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

unjust  covetousness,  more  gentle,  more  accommodating,  more 
tender  than  before  ;  the  poor  man  consoles  himself  in  his  pov- 
erty, and  the  rich  learn  virtue  and  abstinence."  ^^^ 

Doubtless  this  striking  vindication  did  not  put  an  end  to 
the  persecutions  of  which  the  monks  were  victims.  They 
continued  to  be  slandered,  vexed,  and  cruelly  treated  when- 
ever, as  often  happened,  the  imperial  power  became  the  prey 
or  the  instrument  of  heiesy.  A  law  of  Valentinian  IT.  or- 
dained, in  390,  that  all  the  monks  should  leave  the  towns, 
where  they  had  become  more  and  more  numerous  since  the 
time  of  Basil,  and  retire  into  the  desert.^^^  But  it  was  abro- 
gated by  Theodosius. 

Chrysostom,  whose  life  we  do  not  undertake  to  relate,  was 
afterwards  raised  to  the  See  of  Constantinople.    He 

398  •  •  • 

gained  there  the  admiration  of  the  whole  Church  by 
the  hcroismof  his  long  martjn'dom.  He  employed  all  his  author- 
ity to  protect  the  monks,  as  also  to  maintain  regularity  in  the 
order.  With  one  hand  he  severely  repressed  the  vagabond 
monks,  who  fled  from  discipline,  yet  pretended  to  keep  up 
the  exterior  and  the  respect  due  to  their  order;  on  the  other, 
he  entered  into  relations  with  the  Religious  who  were  al- 
ready to  be  found  among  the  Goths,!'^*^  with  whom  the  em- 
pire began  to  be  inundated,  and  sent  monks  to  Phoenicia 
to  labor  there  for  the  extirpation  of  paganism  from  that 
country. 

chrysos-  However,  this   great  champion  of  the   honor  and 

the'nmiiks  liberty  of  the  monks  was  not  destined  to  find  among 
of  ca?saie,n.  q\\  q{-  t-liem  the  gratitude  which  he  merited.  In 
these  violent  struggles  against  the  abuses  and  injustice  of 
Byzantine  government,  spiritual  and  teujporal,  which  gained 
him  from  the  historian  Zosimus  the  name  of  demagogue  — 
which  inflamed  against  him  the  imbecile  jealousy  of  the 
Emperor  Arcadius,  the  wounded  pride  of  the  Empress  Eu- 
doxia,  and  the  interested  rage  of  the  courtiers  and  the  rich, 
and  which  twice  thrust  him  from  his  patriarchal  see — Chrys- 
ostom had  won  the  sympathies  of  the  people,  who  often  rose 
on  his  behalf     But  he   had  constantly  to  contend,  not  only 

''*  "...  Intra  se  dicet :  Mcretrix  ilia  ct  scortator,  lanionum  vel  sutorum, 
iionnunquam  servuruiii  filii.  Ego  vero  liber  et  ex  liberis  ortus.  .  .  .  Pauper 
ejulabit  et  deplorabit  uxorem  siiani,  videns  nihil  istiusmodi  babentem  "  —  S. 
JoANN.  Ghuysost.,  ill  MatUi.  Iloinil.,  G8,  ed.  Gaiime,  t.  vii.  p.  7(J1. 

'^■'  '•  Qui(;unique  sub  ])rotessi()ne  inonnchi  reperiuntur,  descrta  loca  et  vas- 
tas  solitudines  sequi  atque  habitare  jubeantur." — Cod.  Theod.,  lib.  xvL 
tit.  3. 

'*»  Ep.  14  and  207. 


IN    THE   EAST.  215 

against  siiiioniacal  bishops  and  a  servile  cler^v,  l)iit  even 
against  monks  who  too  often  mingled  in  the  intiigues  aii(J 
violence  of  which  he  was  the  victim.  He  has  himself  related 
to  us  how,  during  the  cruel  tatigues  of  his  exile,  the  short 
interval  of  hospitable  repose  which  he  hoped  to  find 
at  Ceesarea  was  disturbed  by  a  horde  of  monks,  or 
rather  of  ferocious  beasts,  placed  there  by  a  courtier  bishop, 
who  terrified  the  clergy  and  even  the  soldiers  of  the  garriso.i, 
and  succeeded  in  expelling  him  from  the  city  in  all  the  heat 
of  a  fever  by  which  he  was  devoured,  and  at  the  risk  of 
fiilling  into  the  hands  of  the  Isaurian  brigands  who  ravaged 
the  country. 1*1  But  the  violence  of  wretches,  unworthy  of 
the  name  and  robe  they  bore,  drew  from  him  no  recrimina- 
tion, and  especially  no  retractation  of  the  praise  which  he  had 
np  to  that  time  lavished  on  the  true  monks.  He  had  a  soul 
too  just  and  too  lofty  to  forget  for  a  personal  wrong  nil  the 
examples  of  monastic  courage  and  virtue  with  which  his 
memory  was  stored.  He  especially  loved  to  reca'l  that  he 
had  seen  the  hermits  of  Antioch,  whose  disciple  and  The  monks 
advocate  he  had  been,  quit  their  mountains  and  "^(fu^lf'"'^ 
caverns  to  console  and  encourage  the  inhabitants  commis- 
of  Antioch  threatened  by  the  bloody  vengeance  of  -riieodo- 

Theodosius.     While  the  philosophers  of   the  town  ^'"'': 

went  to  hide  themselves  in  the  desert,  the  inhabi-  •'''^'^■ 
tants  of  the  desert  issued  from  it  to  brave  and  partake  the 
common  danger.  In  the  midst  of  the  universal  consterna- 
tion they  appeared  before  the  ministers  of  imperial  wrath 
like  lions,  says  Chrysostom,  and  made  them  suspend  the 
execution  of  the  pitiless  sentence. 

"  Go,"  said  one  of  the  monks,  a  simple  and  unlettered  man, 
to  the  commissioners  of  Theodosius,  "  go  and  say  from  me  to 
the  emperor:  you  are  an  emperor,  but  you  are  a  man,  and 
you  command  men  who  are  your  fellow-creatures,  and  who 
are  made  in  the  image  of  God.  Fear  the  wrath  of  the  Creator 
if  you  destroy  His  work.  You,  who  are  so  much  displeased 
when  your  images  are  overthrown,  shall  God  be  less  if  you 
destroy  His?  Youi-  statues  of  bronze  are  made  anew  and 
replaced,  but  when  you  shall  have  killed  men,  the  images  of 
God,  how  can  you  resuscitate  the  dead,  or  even  restore  a  hair 
of  their  head  ?  "  ^'^  Having  said  this,  and  the  judge  yielding, 
they  left  the  city  and  returned  into  their  solitude. 

'■•'  '  ^novYY"?  fif>yuLv\Twv  .  ,  .  Tiov  Oi^Qiwv  Tuinfov." —  Epist.  ad  Olympiad, 
14,  iii.  717,  ed.  Gauine. 

'■•^  St.  John  Chrysostom,  Horn.  17  et  \%,  ad  Popul.  Antioch.  —  Tueodo- 
EKT   Hist.,  lib.  V.  c.  19. 


216  MONASTIC   PRECUKSORS 

The  monk  '^^®  Same  year  which  saw  the  barbarity  of  the 
Teienia-  monks  of  Csesarea  toward  St.  John  Chrysostom  ia 
au"eud"to^  forever  memorable  in  the  annals  of  humanity  by 
bats*^oftiie  ^^e  heroic  sacrifice  of  an  Eastern  monk.  In  its 
gladiators,  desperate  struggle  against  the  religion  which  was 
i8t  jaiiua-  to  avenge  and  save  the  human  race  from  its  long 
^^  '  decline,  paganism  had  found  a  popular  and  strong 
refuge  in  the  public  spectacles.  These  circus  games,  which 
had  been  the  price  of  Roman  servitude,  faithfully  paid  by  the 
emperors  to  a  degraded  people,  but  which  were  as  sangui- 
nary as  amid  the  struggles  of  her  warlike  history,  preserved 
their  fatal  ascendency  over  the  hearts,  the  imaginations,  and 
the  habits  of  the  Roman  people.  In  vain  had  the  doctors  and 
defenders  of  the  Christian  faith  expended  since  TertuUian 
their  most  generous  efforts  and  unwearied  eloquence  against 
this  remnant  of  the  vanquished  civilization.  In  vain  they 
represented  to  the  disciples  of  the  Gospel,  the  horror  of 
these  bloody  games,  in  which  so  many  thousand  martyrs  of 
every  age,  sex,  and  country  had  perished,  and  where  the 
devil  unceasingly  recruited  new  victims,  voluntarily  en- 
slaved to  luxury  and  cruelty,  for  the  innumerable  spectators. 
In  vain,  at  last,  the  sovereign  authority  sanctioned  the  pro- 
hibitions of  the  Church.  The  public  taste  had  stubbornly 
maintained  its  favorite  recreation  during  all  the  fourth  cen- 
tury against  the  Church  and  the  emperors.  The  combats  of 
the  gladiators  were  still  the  delight  of  Roman  decadence. 
St.  Augustine  has  left  a  striking  picture  of  the  infatuation 
which  mastered  their  souls,  when,  like  Alypius,  they  allowed 
themselves  to  be  intoxicated  by  the  blood  shed  in  the  amphi- 
theatre, the  fumes  of  which  transformed  into  pagans,  into 
savages,  the  most  intelligent  and  worthy  spectators.  Under 
the  reign  of  Honorius,  the  Christian  poet  Prudentius  de- 
manded in  eloquent  verse  the  abolition  of  that  cruel  scandal. 
"  Let  no  one  die  again  to  delight  us  with  his  agonies  !  Let 
the  odious  arena,  content  with  its  wild  beasts,  give  man  no 
more  for  a  bloody  spectacle.  Let  Rome,  vowed  to  God, 
worthy  of  her  prince,  and  powerful  by  her  courage,  be  power- 
ful also  by  her  innocence."  ^^^ 

The  weak  Honorius,  far  from  listening  to  this  appeal,  had, 
on  the  occasion  of  his  sixth  consulate,  restored  to  life  an 
entirely  pagan  institution,  the  celebration  of  the  secular 
games,  and  had  specially  included  in  it  the  combats  of  gladi- 

"  Contra  Symm.,  ii.  114,  translated  by  Ozanam,  (Euvres,  vol.  ii.  p.  231 


IN    THE    EAST.  217 

ators.  When  the  announnement  of  tbese  games  had  been 
published  everywhere  in  all  the  empire,  and  had  thus  pene* 
trated  into  the  deserts,  a  monk,  until  then  unknown,  named 
Telemaclius,  of  Niti'ia  according  to  some,  of  Phrygia  accord- 
ing to  others,  took  one  of  those  resolutions,  the  simple  gran- 
deur and  immense  results  of  which  appear  only  after  their 
accomplishment.  He  left  his  cell,  travelled  from  the  depths 
of  the  East  to  Rome,  arriv^ed  there  in  time  to  be  present  at 
the  imperial  solemnities,  entered  the  Colo.sseum,  burst 
through  the  waves  of  people  all  palpitating  with  a  ferocious 
curiosity,  and  threw  himself  between  the  gladiators  engaged 
in  combat.  The  indignant  spectators  pursued  this  untimely 
interruption,  this  fool,  this  black  fanatic,  tii'st  with  furious 
clamors,  then  with  blows  of  stones  and  sticks.  Stoned  like 
the  first  martyrs  of  Christianity,  Telemachus  fell,  and  the 
gladiators  whom  he  had  desired  to  separate,  completed  the 
work.  But  his  blood  was  the  last  shed  in  that  arena  where 
so  much  had  flowed.  The  nobleness  of  his  sacriGce  showed 
the  full  horror  of  the  abuse  which  he  would  have  over- 
thrown. An  edict  of  Honorius  proscribed  forever  the  games 
of  gladiators.  From  that  day  it  is  no  more  heard  of  in 
history.  The  crime  of  so  many  centuries  was  extinguished 
by  the  blood  of  a  monk,  who  happened  to  be  a  hero. 

But  we  must  here   leave  the   monks  of  the  East.     They 
have  occupied  us  thus  far  only  as  the  precursors  and  models 
of  the  monks  of  the  West.     It  is  not  our  task  to  relate  the 
conflicts,  often  generous,  which  they  had  to  wage  during  the 
fifth  and  sixth  centuries  against  the  Nestorianand  Eutychian 
heresies,  one  of  which  contested  the  unity  of  the  person  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  the  other  the  dualit}^  of  His  nature,  which 
ravaged  successively  the  Church  of  the  East,  and  which  were 
sustained  with  perseverance  and  obstinacy  by  almost  all  the 
emperors  and    patriarchs  of  Constantinople.     Nor  Decadence 
shall  we  uBed  to  contemplate  the  sad  decline  of  their  ^*on*ksof 
strength  and  virtue,  to  the  state  of  stagnation,  and  the  East. 
then  of  decay,  which  became  by  degrees  the  dominant  char- 
acter of  monastic  life  in  the  East. 

Doubtlass  there  still  remained,  after  the  glorious  names 
which  we  have  quoted  up  to  this  point,  some  names  honored 
and  dear  to  the  Church.  St.  Dalmatius,  St.  Euthymius,  St. 
Sabas,  St.  Theodosius,  St.  John  Climachus,  and  others,  filled 
with  the  odor  of  their  virtues  the  monasteries  of  Constanti- 
nople, the  solitudes  of  the  Thebaid,  the  lauras^^^  of  the  eu- 

'■**  The  name  of  laura  was  given  to  a  conjunction  of  several  bermiUges, 
VOL.  I.  19 


218  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

virous  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  peaks  and  gorges  of  Sinai.  In 
the  struggles  which  demanded  so  much  heroic  patience,  "con- 
stant vigilance,  and  calm  and  intrepid  courage,  against  the 
pride  and  blindness  of  the  emperors,  the  passionate  presump- 
tion of  the  empresses,  and  the  bad  faith  and  envy  of  the 
patriarchs  of  Constantinople,  the  orthodox  popes  and  bishops 
ibund  zealous  and  faithful  auxiliaries  among  the  monks  of  the 
East.  Many  suffered  martyrdom  in  defence  of  the  dogmas 
which  had  been  established  by  the  General  Councils  of  Chal- 
cedon  and  Constantinople. ^^^  Let  us  give  a  word  of  recollec- 
tion in  passing  to  that  monk  of  the  monastery  of  Studius,  near 
the  golden  gate  of  Byzantium,  who,  in  the  conflict  between 
Pope  Felix  III.  and  the  patriarch  Acacius,  bad  alone  the 
courage  to  publish  the  decree  of  excommunication  pro- 
nounced against  the  latter  by  the  pope  and  sixty-seven 
bishops  of  Italy.  As  the  patriarch  was  on  his  way  to  church 
to  celebrate  pontifical  mass,  this  monk  attached  to  his  mantle 
the  sentence  which  condemned  him,  and  thus  made  him  carry 
i^  himself  to  the  foot  of  the  altar  and  before  all  the  people.^^^ 
He  paid  for  this  boldness  with  his  life.  History  has  not  pre- 
served his  name,  but  has  glorified  his  example,  which,  how- 
ever, had  scarcely  any  imitators. 

For  it  must  be  admitted  that,  by  means  of  theological  dis- 
cussions and  subtleties,  the  spiiit  of  intrigue  and  revolt 
introduced  itself  into  the  monasteries.  Eutychius  himself 
was  a  monk  and  abbot  of  Constantinople,  and  after  him  the 
Eutychians  and  the  Originists  made  numerous  recruits  in  the 
monastic  ranks:  they  appeared  under  the  monastic  habit  as 
under  the  episcopal  tiara,  in  the  synods  and  in  the  councils. 
Among  the  true  servants  of  God,  false  brethren  glided  in  al- 
most everywhere,  raising  with  warmth  condemnable  or  ex- 
travagant opinions.  Others,  more  numerous  still,  wandered 
from  town  to  town,  or  from  house  to  house,  and  thus  casting 
off  all  discipline,  compromised  at  once  the  sanctity  of  their 
institution  and  the  dignity  of  their  robe.     Their  superiors, 

the  inhabitants  of  which  lodged  in  cells  removed  at  a  certain  distance  from 
one  another,  but  under  the  same  superior.  A  laura  presented  almost  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  modern  charter-house.  They  were  especially  numerous  about 
the  environs  of  Jerusalem.  The  most  extensive  was  that  of  St.  Sabas,  be- 
tween .Jerusalem  and  Bethlehem,  where  this  saint  assembled  as  many  as  sev- 
enty recluses.  Most  frequently,  these  lauras,  after  a  certain  time,  were 
transformed  into  ordinary  monasteries. 

'**  Under  the  Emperor  Anastasius,  more  than  three  hundred  and  fifty  monks 
were  massacred  by  tlie  Eutychian  heretics  at  Antioch. 

""  Fleuky,  lib.  XXX.  c.  16. 


IN    THE    EAST.  219 

gpiritual  and  temporal,  used  their  authority  in  vain  to  repress 
that  abuse,  which  reappeared  perpetually. 

To  bring  a  remedy  to  these  scandals  and  da,ngers,  Dpcrees  of 
and  with  the  formally  acknowledged  intention  of  ofCh°rce^' 
restraining  all  these  vagabond  and  turbulent  monks,  ceniin"the 
the  General  Council  of  Chalcedon,  on  the  proposition  monks! 
of  the  Emperor  Marcian,  decreed  that  no  monastery  should 
be  built  henceforward  without  the  cont-ent  of  the  bishop  of 
the  diocese,  and  that  the  monks,  as  much  in  the  towns  as  in 
the  country,  should  submit  to  the  episcopal  authority  in 
everything,  under  pain  of  excommunication.  They  were  ex- 
pressly interdicted  from  going  out  of  the  monastery  where 
they  had  been  first  received,  and  from  mixing  themselves 
with  any  ecclesiastical  or  secular  business.^^"  After  liaving 
renewed  an  ancient  prohibition  against  the  marriage  of 
monks,  the  Council  ordained  besides  that  every  monastery, 
once  consecrated  by  the  bishop,  should  preserve  its  special 
destination  in  perpetuity,  and  could  never  become  a  secular 
habitation.148 

These  enactments  became  from  that  time  part  of  the  com- 
mon law  of  Christendom,  and  must  be  kept  in  remembrance, 
because  we  shall  have  afterwards  to  record  the  numerous 
infractions  to  which  they  were  subjected.  Besides,  they  did 
not  exercise  upon  the  monks  of  the  East  a  sufficiently  effica- 
cious influence  to  maintain  them  at  the  height  of  early  times. 
After  an  age  of  unparalleled  virtue  and  fruitfulness  —  after 
having  presented  tothe  monastic  life  of  all  ages, not  only  immor- 
tal models,  but  also  a  kind  of  ideal  almost  unattainable  —  the 
monastic  order  allowed  itself  to  be  overcome,  through  all 
the  Byzantine  empire,  by  that  enfeeblement  and  sterility  of 
which  Oriental  Christianitj^  has  been  the  victim.  One  by 
one,  these  glorious  centres  of  light,  knowledge,  and  life, 
which  the  Anthonys,  the  Hilarious,  the  Basils,  and  the  Chrys- 
ostoms,  had  animated  with  their  celestitjl  light,  were  extin- 
guished, and  disappeared  from  the  pages  of  historj'.  While 
the  monks  of  the  West,  under  the  vivifying  influence  of  the 
Roman  See,  strove  victoriously  against  the  corruption  of  the 
ancient  woild,  converted  and  civilized  barbarous  nations, 
transformed  and  purified  the  new  elements,  preserved  the 
treasures  of  ancient  literature,  and  maintained  the  traditions 
of  all  the  secret  and  profane  sciences,  the  monks  of  the  East 

'^^  See  tlie  speech  of  tlie  emperor  in  the  Gth  action  or  session  of  the  Coun- 
cil, and  the  Canons  4,  6,  7,  8,  and  23. 
"^  Canons  16  and  2-t. 


220  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS   IN   THE    EAST. 

sank  gradually  into  nothingness.  Intoxicated  by  the  double 
influence  of  courtierism  and  theological  discord,  they  yielded 
to  all  the  deleterious  impulses  of  that  declining  society,  of 
whose  decay  despotism  was  at  once  the  result  and  the  chas- 
tisement, and  the  laxness  of  whose  morals  gave  an  irresistible 
ascendency  to  all  the  caprices  of  power,  and  constant  impuni- 
ty to  its  excesses.  They  could  neither  renovate  the  society 
which  surrounded  them,  nor  take  possession  of  the  pagan 
nations  which  snatched  away  every  day  some  new  fragment 
of  the  empire.  They  knew  no  better  how  to  preserve  the 
Church  from  the  evil  influences  of  the  Byzantine  spirit. 
Even  the  deposit  of  ancient  knowledge  escaped  from  their 
debilitated  hands.  They  have  saved  nothing,  regenerated 
nothing,  elevated  nothing. 

They  ended,  like  all  the  clergy  of  the  East,  by  becoming 
slaves  of  Islamism  and  accomplices  of  schism.  Since  then, 
fifteen  centuries  have  passed  over  their  heads  without  inter- 
rupting their  downfall  for  a  single  day,  or  preparing  a  regen- 
erator for  the  future.  It  has  been  with  religion  as  with  the 
glory  of  arms  and  the  splendor  of  letters.  Following  a  mys- 
terious but  incontestable  law,  it  is  always  from  the  East  to 
the  West  that  progress,  light,  and  strength  have  gone  forth. 
Like  the  light  of  day,  they  are  born  in  the  East,  but  rise  and 
shine  more  and  more  in  proportion  as  they  advance  towards 
the  West. 

As  the  empire  of  the  world  passed  from  the  Asiatics  to  the 
Greeks,  and  from  the  Greeks  to  the  Romans,  the  truth  passed 
from  Jerusalem  to  Rome.  Monastic  life,  like  the  Church,  was 
founded  in  the  East;  but,  like  the  Church  also,  acquired  its 
true  form  only  in  the  West.  We  must  follow  and  study  it 
there,  to  admire  its  complete  and  lasting  grandeur. 


BOOK   III. 

MONASTIC   PRECURSORS    IN    THE    WEST, 


SUMMARY. 

St.  Atiianasi0s,  exiled,  propagates  the  monastic  order  in  the  West  and  at 
Rome,  where  religious  life  had  already  been  known  during  the  last  perse- 
cutions :  Aglae  and  Boniface.  —  Development  in  Italy  :  Eusebius  of  Ver- 
celli.  —  Movement  of  the  Roman  Nobility  towards  Monastic  Life  : 
last  ray  of  aristocratic  glory  buried  in  the  cloister.  —  The  family  Anicia.  — 
The  holy  and  religious  patrician  ladies  :  Marcella.  —  Furia.  —  Paula  and 
her  daughters.  —  Paulina  and  her  husband  Pammachus  :  Fabiola.  —  St. 
Jerome,  guide  and  historian  of  these  holy  women.  —  His  monastic  life  at 
Chalcis  and  Bethlehem  :  he  writes  the  Lives  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Desert, 
and  points  out  the  errors  of  the  false  monks  of  his  times.  —  Roman  Emi- 
gration INTO  Palestine.  —  Jerome  attracts  to  Jerusalem  St.  Paula  and 
her  daughter  Eustochia:  death  of  Paula.  —  The  two  Melanies  at  Jerusa- 
lem, at  Rome,  in  Africa.  —  St.  Paulin  of  Nole  and  his  wife  Teresia.  —  Op- 
position against  the  Monks  :  popular  invectives  :  the  poet  Rutilius.  — 
St.  Ambrose  defends  them.  —  His  book  De  Virginitaie  :  note  on  the  use  of 
the  veil.  —  St.  Augustine  :  influence  of  the  Life  of  St.  Anthony  by 
Athanasius,  and  the  example  of  the  monks,  on  his  conversion :  he  lives  al- 
ways in  the  strictest  seclusion.  —  Rule  of  St.  Augustine.  —  His  treatise  Z>« 
Opere  Monachorum  against  the  idle  monks.  —  St.  Fulgentius.  —  Thk 
Monks  in  Gaul.  —  St.  Athanasius.  —  St.  Martin,  soldier,  monk,  and 
bishop.  —  His  relations  with  St.  Hilary.  —  He  founds  at  Liguge  the  first 
monastery  of  the  Gauls.  —  His  great  position  as  Bishop  of  Tours  :  he  pro- 
tests against  religious  persecution.  —  He  founds  Marmoutier,  and  inhabits 
there  one  of  the  cells.  —  Sulpicius  Severus :  the  monks  of  Gaul  rebel 
against  fasting.  —  The  Monastery  of  Lerins  :  its  doctors  and  its  saints  : 
Honoratius,  Hilary  of  Aries,  Vincent  of  Lerins,  Salvian,  Eucher,  Lupus 
of  Troyes.  —  St.  Caesar  and  his  rule.  —  John  Cassianus  and  St.  Victor  of 
Marseilles.  —  Pelagianism  falsely  imputed  to  Lerins.  —  Other  Gaulish 
monasteries :  Reome  in  Burgundy.  —  Monasteries  in  Auvergne  :  Austre- 
moine,  Urbicus,  the  Stylites.  —  Condat  in  the  Jura :  the  two  brothers  Ro- 
main  and  Lucipin :  Eugende  and  Viventiole. — Influence  of  the  monks 
upon  the  Burgundians.  —  The  king  Sigismund  founds  in  Valais,  Agaune, 
which  becomes  the  monastic  metropolis  of  the  kingdom  of  Burgundy.  — 
St.  Severus  exercises  the  same  sway  over  the   other  barbarians,  on  th« 

19*  221 


222  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

shores  of  the  Danube  :  Meetixg  of  Odoacer  and  Severin.  —  Summary  ; 
position  of  tlie  ccnobitical  institution  at  the  end  of 'the  fifth  century;  ser- 
vices already  rendered  to  Christendom  ;  duties  of  the  monks  in  the  Churcli ; 
they  are  not  yet  counted  among  the  clergy,  yet  notwithstanding  almost  all 
the  Fathers  and  great  doctors  are  monks.  —  Abuses  and  Disorders: 
monks  Gyrovagues  and  Sarabaites. — Multiplicity  and  diversity  of  rules. 
—  The  monastic  institution  was  not  yet  regulated.  —  A  sovereign  legisla- 
tion and  a  new  impulse  were  necessary:  which  St.  Benedict  gave. 


Rejoice  ye  with  Jerusalem,  and  be  glad  with  her,  all  ye  that  love  Tier.  .  .  For  thus 
BaiHi  the  Lord,  Behold,  I  will  extend  pence  to  her  like  a  river,  and  the  g^lory  of  the 
Gentiles  like  a  flowing  stream.  —  Isaiah  Ixvi.  10,  12. 

The  monastic  stream,  which  had  been  born  in  the  deserts 
of  Egypt,  divided  itself  into  two  great  arms.  The  one  spread 
in  the  East,  at  first  inundated  everything,  then  concentrated 
and  lost  itself  there.  The  other  escaped  into  the  West,  and 
spread  itself  by  a  thousand  channels  over  an  entire  world 
which  had  to  be  covered  and  fertilized.  We  must  return 
upon  our  track  to  follow  it.  Its  beginnings  are  certainly  less 
ancient  and  less  brilliant,  but  the  bed  which  it  hollowed  for 
itself  is,  on  the  other  hand,  deeper  and  more  prolonged. 
Athanasiu  First  of  all,  we  anew  encounter  Athanasius,  whom 
propagates  we  havc  sceu  associated  with  the  great  patriarchs 
tioMTsmu^-'  of  the  cenobites  —  the  guest,  the  disciple,  and  the 
wesi"  *"""  client  of  Anthony,  the  defender  of  Basil.  His  life  is 
well  known.  Exile  was  then  the  portion  of  the  con- 
fessors of  the  faith,  but  it  was  also  the  means  chosen  by  God 
to  spread  afar  the  seed  of  virtue  and  truth.  Constantine,  who 
troubled  the  Church  after  having  delivered  it,  inflicted  that 
penalty  first  upon  Athanasius.  Constantius  and  the  Arians 
subjected  him  to  it  so  often,  that  he  might  be  said  to  have 
lived  almost  as  much  in  exile  as  in  his  see.  He  returned 
there  always  calm  and  intrepid,  happy  to  be  the  victim  and 
not  the  author  of  these  violences  which  always  mark  the 
weakness  of  an  evil  cause.  Twice  persecution  constrained 
him  to  take  refuge  in  the  Thebaid,  and  three  times  an  impe- 
rial order  exiled  him  to  the  West.  He  became  thus  the 
natural  link  between  the  Fathers  of  the  desert  and  those  vast 
regions  which  their  successors  were  to  conquer  and  trans- 
form. Victor  over  Arianism  by  the  strength  of  faith,  courage, 
and  patience  alone,  sustained  by  the  popes  against  the  em- 
perors and  bishops  unfaithful  to  the  divinity  of  Jesus,  it  be- 


IN   THE    WEST.  223 

longed  to  liim  more  than  to  any  other  to  introduce  ho makes 
the  monastic  institution  to  Rome,  the  head  and  cen-  ^^^3''^"'° 
tre  of  the  Churcli,  which  couk^  no  longer  remain  a 
stranger  to  this  new  and  wonderful  development  of  Christian 
life.  It  was  in  340  that  he  came  for  the  first  time  to  Rome, 
in  order  to  escape  the  violence  of  the  Arians,  and  invoke  the 
protection  of  Pope  Julius,  This  pope  convoked  the  adver- 
saries of  the  bishop  of  Alexandria  to  a  council,  from  which 
they  drew  back,  knowing  that  if  they  appeared,  they  should 
there  encounter  a  truly  ecclesiastical  tribunal,  where  there 
should  be  neither  count  nor  soldiers  at  the  doors,  nor  ordera 
of  the  emperor.^ 

While  the  pope  and  the  council  did  justice  to  the  g^j 
glorious  defender  of  the  divinity  of  Christ,  he  spread 
in  Rome  the  first  report  of  the  life  led  by  the  monks  in  the  The- 
baid,  of  the  marvellous  exploits  of  Anthony,  who  was  still  alive, 
of  the  immense  foundations  which  Pacome  was  at  that  time 
forming  upon  the  banks  of  the  higher  Nile.  He  had  brought 
with  him  two  of  the  most  austere  of  these  mo^ks.  The  one 
was  Ammonius,  so  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  divine 
things  that  he  did  not  deign  to  visit  any  of  the  wonders  of 
Rome,  except  the  tombs  of  St.Peter  and  St.Paul;  the  other,Isi- 
dore,  gained  all  hearts  by  his  amiable  simplicity.  These  two 
served  as  guarantees  of  the  truth  of  his  tale,  and  as  types  to 
the  Romans  who  might  be  tempted  to  follow  their  example. 
Monastic  life,  however,  was  not  completely  unknown  in  Rome. 
Traces  of  its  existence  are  visible  during  the  last  persecu- 
tions, in  the  Acts  of  the  martyrs:  they  have  pre-  Agiaeand 
served  to  us  the  story  of  St.  Aglae,anoble  and  rich  i^oa^e. 
Roman  lady,  who  lived  a  luxurious  and  disorderly  209  or  305. 
life  with  Boniface,  the  first  among  seventy-three  intendanta 
who  aided  her  to  govern  her  vast  domains.  After  that  guilty 
liasion  had  lasted  several  years,  Aglae,  moved  by  compunc- 
tion, and  having  heard  the  Christians  say  that  those  who 
honored  the  holy  martyrs  should  share  their  protection  be- 
fore the  tribunal  of  God,  sent  Boniface  to  the  East,  to  seek 
there  the  relics  of  some  martyr,  in  order  to  build  them  an 
oratory.  "Madame,"  said  the  intendant  to  his  mistress,  at 
his  departure,  ''  if  my  relics  come  to  you  under  the  name  of 
a  martyr,  will  you  receive  them?  "  She  reproved  that  pleas- 
antry, but  it  was  a  promise :  he  died  a  mart3'r  at  Tarsus, 
after  cruel  tortures,  voluntarily  undergone.     His  body  waa 

'  Flecrt,  Hist.  Eccles.,  lib.  xii.  c.  20. 


224  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

brought  to  Ag:1ae,who  received  it  with  great  and  tender  re- 
spect ;  and  after  having  deposited  it  in  a  chapel,  built  at  the 
distance  of  fifty  stadia  from  Rome,  she  distributed  all  her 
goods  to  the  poor,  obtained  thus  the  boon  of  a  complete  con- 
version, and  took  the  veil  as  a  nun,  with  some  women  who 
desired,  like  her,  to  devote  themselves  to  penitence.  She 
lived  thus  thirteen  years  in  the  retirement  of  the  cloister ; 
and  after  her  sanctity  had  been  manifested  by  more  than  one 
miracle,  she  died  and  was  buried  in  the  chapel  of  St.  Boni- 
face.2 

At  the  peace  of  the  Church,  a  daughter  of  Constantine  had 
founded  a  first  monastery  of  women  above  the  tomb  of  St. 
Agnes,  on  the  very  site  where,  having  won  immortality  in 
the  memory  of  men  by  braving  the  judges  and  murderers  of 
the  empire,  that  young  conqueror  appeared,  in  the  midst  of 
an  army  of  virgins,  white  and  dazzhng,  to  the  weeping  parents, 
to  give  them  assurance  of  her  eternal  happiness.^ 

The  narratives  of  Athanasius  had,  notwithstanding,  all  the 
effect  of  a  revelation.  They  roused  the  hearts  and  imagina- 
tions of  the  Romans,  and  especially  of  the  Roman  women. 
The  name  of  monk,  to  which  popular  prejudice  seems  already 
to  have  attached  a  kind  of  ignominy,*  became  immediately 
an  honored  and  envied  title.  The  impression  produced  at 
first  by  the  exhortations  of  the  illustrious  exile,  was  extended 
34'^  349  ^"^  strengthened  during  the  two  other  visits  which 
he  made  to  the  Eternal  City.  Some  time  after- 
wards, on  the  death  of  St.  Anthony,  Athanasius,  at  the  re- 
Athanasius  qucst  of  his  disciplcs,  Avrote  the  life  of  the  patriarch 
Lif'- of  su  ^^  ^1^®  Thebaid ;  and  this  biography,  circulating 
An  bony,  through  all  the  West,  immediately  acquired  there 
the  popularity  of  a  legend,  and  the  authority  of  a  confession 
of  faith.  Athanasius,  to  the  eyes  of  all  the  western  Chris- 
tians, was  the  hero  of  the  age  and  the  oracle  of  the  Church. 

*  "  Domina  mea,  sin  vero  meum  corpus  redierit  in  nomine  martyris,  susci- 
pies  illud?  .  .  .  Supervixit  in  habitu  sanctimoniali."  —  Act.  SS.  Bolland., 
d.  14  Mail,  p.  281-283.  Compare  Bulteau,  Hist.  Monast.  d"  Orient,  addit., 
p.  910. 

^  ''Vident  in  medio  noctis  silentio  vigilantes  exercituni  virginum  .  .  . 
Agnetem  simili  veste  fulgentem,  et  ad  dcxteram  ejus  agnum  nive  candidio- 
reni.  .  .  .  Perseveravit  autcm  Constantia  Augusta  in  virginitate,  per  quam 
multae  virgines  nobiles  et  illustres  et  mediocres  sacra  velamina  susceperunt." 
■ —  S.  Ambros.,  Act  S.  Agn. 

*  "  Nulla  80  tempore  nobillum  feminarum  noverat  Romae  propositum  mo- 
nachorum,  nee  audebat,  propter  rei  novitatem,  ignoniiniosum  (ut  tuncputaba- 
tur)  et  vile  in  populis  nomcn  assum<re."  —  S.  Hieron.,  Vit.  S.  Marcellce, 
c.  4. 


IN   THE    WEST.  225 

His  genius  and  courage  had  raised  him  to  the  pinnacle  of 
glory.  How  ranch  credit  tiiat  glory  would  add  to  his  tale, 
and  to  the  instructions  which  flowed  from  it,  is  apparent. 
Under  this  narrative  form,  says  St.  Gregory  of  Nazianzus,  he 
promulgated  the  laws  of  monastic  life.^ 

The  town  and  environs  of  Rome  were  soon  full  of  monas- 
teries, rapidly  occupied  by  men  distinguislied  alike  by  birth, 
fortune,  and  knowledge,  who  lived  there  in  charity,  sanctity, 
and  freedom.*^  From  Rome  the  new  institution,  already  dis- 
tinguished by  the  name  of  religion,  or  religious  life,  par  ex- 
cellence,'' extended  itself  over  all  Italy.  It  was  planted  at  the 
foot  of  the  Alps  by  the  influence  of  a  great  bishop,  Kusei)ui8of 
Eusebius  of  Vorcelli,  who  had,  like  Athanasius,  vcrcdii. 
gloriously  confessed  the  faith  against  the  Arians,  sro. 
and  who,  exiled  like  him,  had  sought  in  the  Thebaid  the  same 
models  which  the  bishop  of  Alexandria  had  revealed  to  Rome. 
It  is  thus  that  the  Arian  persecution,  and  the  exile  of  the 
confessors  of  the  faith,  carried  afar  and  fructified  the  monas- 
tic seed.  The  history  of  this  time  might  be  summed  up  in 
the  celebrated  phrase  of  Tertullian,  thus  modified  :  "  Exilium 
confessorum  semen  monachorum."  Returned  to  Italy,  Euse- 
bius gave  the  first  example,  often  imitated  since,  g,^ 
and  always  with  success,  of  confiding  to  monks  the 
care  of  the  worship  in  iiis  cathedral.^  From  the  continent 
the  new  institution  rapidly  gained  the  isles  of  the  The  monks 
Mediterranean,  and  even  the  rugged  rocks  of  the  o*theisie8. 
Goi'gon  and  of  Capraja,  where  the  monks,  voluntarily  exiled 
from  the  woi'ld,  went  to  take  the  place  of  the  criminals  and 
political  victims  whom  the  emperors  had  been  accustomed  to 
banish  thither.  The  monks  of  the  Gorgon  might  one  day  bo 
seen  embarking  and  hastening  to  meet  the  relics  of  St.  Julia, 
a  noble  virgin  of  Carthage,  brought  into  slavery  by  the  Van- 
dals of  Genseric,  and  afterwards  martyred  by  the  pagans  at 

*  S.  Greg.  Nazianzus,  Orat.  27  in  Laud  S.  Athan.  Compare  Nicbpiior., 
lib.  viii.  c.  40. 

®  '•Roniaj  plura  nionasteria  cognovi,  in  quibus  singruli  .  .  .  caeteris  seciim 
viventibus  praeerant  Christiana  caritate,  sancdtatc,  et  libertate  viventibus." 
—  S.  August.,  De  Moribus  EcdesicB.  c.  33.  "  Multi  monachi  sapientes,  po- 
tentes,  nobiles."  —  S.  Hieron.,  Epist.  ?G,  ad  Pammach. 

^  From  tliat  time  tiie  name  of  religion,  was  given  to  tlie  monastic  institu- 
tion, and  to  the  monks  that  of  religions.  "  Unus  in  religionis,  alins  in  sacer- 
dotii  nomen  ascendit."  —  Euchek.,  ad  Valerian.,  ap.  Bulteac,  flist.  de  I'Or- 
dre  de  St.  Benoit,  i.  46. 

*  "Primus  in  Occidentis  partibus  in  eadeni  Ecclesia  eosdem  monachos 
instituit  esse,  quos  clericos,  ut  esset  in  ipsis  viris  contemptus  rerum  et  aocu- 
ratio  levitarum."  —  Breviar.  Romanum,  die  16  Decemb. 


226  •  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

Cape  Corso,  where  her  master,  a  Syrian  merchant,  had  stopp'^d 
to  sacrifice.  When  they  had  possessed  themselves  of  this 
tr3asure,  they  bore  it  away  into  their  nest  of  rocks,  flying 
over  the  waves  with  full  sails,  in  their  frail  skiff,  like  birds 
of  the  sea.^  The  earth  and  the  sea  had  to  recognize  new 
guests  and  new  masters. 

From  that  time,  and  during  all  the  second  half  of  the  fourth 
centui'Y,  there  was  a  great  and  admirable  movement  towards 
spiritual  and  penitential  life  in  Rome,  and  throughout  Italy. 
The  Spirit  of  God  breathed  upon  souls.  It  was,  above  all,  in 
the  midst  of  the  Roman  nobil it}'  that  the  words  of 
ti™T{omau  Athanasius  fell  like  thunder,  and  inspired  all  hearts, 
towards  These  old  patrician  races,  which  founded  RoPxie, 
monastic  which  had  governed  her  during  all  her  period  of 
splendor  and  liberty,  and  which  overcame  and 
conquered  the  world,  had  expiated  for  four  centuries,  under 
the  atrocious  yoke  of  the  Csesars,  all  that  was  most  hard  and 
selfish  in  the  glory  of  their  fathers.  Cruelly  humiliated,  dis- 
graced, and  decimated  during  that  long  servitude,  by  the 
masters  whom  degenerate  Rome  had  given  herself,  they  found 
at  last  in  Christian  life,  such  as  was  practised  by  the  monks, 
the  dignity  of  sacrifice  and  the  emancipation  of  the  soul. 
These  sons  of  the  old  Romans  threw  themselves  into  it  with 
the  magnanimous  fire  and  persevering  energy  which  had 
gained  for  their  ancestors  the  empire  of  the  world. 
"  Formerly,"  says  St.  Jerome,  "according  to  the  testimony  of 
the  apostle,  there  were  few  rich,  few  noble,  few  powerful 
among  the  Christians.  Now  it  is  no  longer  so.^'^  Not  only 
among  the  Christians,  but  among  the  monks  are  to  be  found 
a  multitude  of  the  wise,  the  noble,  and  the  rich." 

They  thus  purified  all  that  was  too  human  in  their  wounded 
souls,  by  virtues  unknown  to  their  fathers  —  by  humility, 
chastity,  charity,  scorn  of  self  and  tenderness  for  the  misery 
of  others,  the  love  of  a  crucified  God,  whose  image  and  rights 
were  recalled  by  the  poor,  the  sick,  and  the  slave.  All  these 
divine  novelties  came  to  revive  in  these  great  hearts  the 
masculine  traditions  of  austerity,  of  abnegation,  of  sobriety 
and  disinterestedness,  which  had  shone  like  an  aureole  around 
the  cradle  of  their  ancient  splendor.  The  monastic  institu- 
tion offered  them  a  field  of  battle  where  the   struggles  and 

'  "  In  modum  volucrum.  .  .  .  Vela  plenis  iter  suum  agerent."  —  Ruinart, 
Hist.  Per  sec.   Vandal,  p.  221. 

**'  "Tunc  rari  sapientes,  potentes,  nobiles  Christiani :  nunc  multi  mona- 
f/ii  sapientes,  potentes,  nobiles." —  S.  Hieron.,  Epist.  24,  De  Obit.  Paulina, 


IN   THE    WEST.  227 

victories  of  their  ancestors  could  be  renewed  and  surpassed 
for  a  loftier  cause,  and  over  enemies  more  redoubtable.  The 
great  men  whose  memory  hovered  still  ovt^r  degenerate 
Rome  had  contended  only  with  men,  and  subjugated  only 
their  bodies :  their  descendants  undertook  to  strive  with 
devils,  and  to  conquer  souls.^^ 

Even  for  their  merely  human  glory,  and  the  great  names 
which  crushed  them  by  their  weight,  what  better  could  the 
most  superstitious  votary  of  the  worship  of  ancestors  desiie 
for  them.  Political  power,  temporal  grandeur,  aristocratic 
influence,  were  lost  forever  amid  the  universal  debasement. 
God  called  them  to  be  the  ancestors  of  a  new  people,  gave 
them  a  new  empire  to  found,  and  permitted  them  to  bury  and 
transfigure  the  glory  of  their  forefathers  in  the  bosom  of  the 
spiritual  regeneration  of  the  old  world. 

These  great  names,  which  had  disappeared  from  history 
amid  the  debasement  of  the  empire,  reappear  thus  to  throw 
forth  a  last  ray  which  should  never  grow  dim,  by  identifying 
themselves  with  the  inextinguishable  splendors  of  the  new 
law. 

The  Roman  nobility  then  brought  into  Rome,  and  repro- 
duced there,  a  brilliant  example  of  the  marvels  of  the  Thebaid. 
The  vast  and  sumptuous  villas  of  the  senators  and  consuls 
were  changed  into  houses  of  retirement,  almost  in  every 
point  conformed  to  monasteries,  where  the  descendants  of 
the  Scipios,  the  Gracchi,  the  Marcelli,  the  Camilli,the  Anicii, 
led  in  solitude  a  life  of  sacrifice  and  charity.  Tiie  bearers  of 
these  great  names  did  not  always  shut  themselves  up  in  that 
retirement,  but  they  dignified  themselves  with  the  title  of 
monk,  adopting  the  coarse  dress,  selling  their  goods,  or  be- 
stowing them  on  the  poor,  lying  down  upon  hard  couches, 
fasting  all  their  life,  and  keeping  in  the  active  ministrations 
of  charity  a  rule  as  austere  as  that  of  the  cloister. ^^ 

They  were  seen  to  mingle  with  the  senatorial  purple  their 
mantle  of  coarse  gray  cloth,  and  to  make  plebeians  of  them- 
selves in  costume,  trampling  human  respect  under  foot, 
which  appeared  then  the  most  difficult  of  victories,  for  St. 
Jerome  says,  *'  Men  have  been  known  to  resist  torments,  who 
yielded  to  shame.  It  is  not  a  small  thing  for  a  man,  noble, 
eloquent,  and  rich,  to  avoid  in  public  places  the  society  of 
the  powerful,  in  order  to  mix  among  the  crowd,  to  identify 

"  "  lUi  visj'^runt  corpora,  .  .  .  haec  subjugavit  animas." — ^  S.  Hieron., 
Epist.  30. 

'*  Champagnt,  op.  cit.,  §  5,  p.  336. 


228  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

himself  with  the  poor,  to  associate  with  peasants,  and  being 
a  prince  to  make  himself  one  of  the  people."  ^^ 

But  the  metamorphosis  which  certain  great  ladies  of  Romo 
had  undergone,  was  still  more  admirable.  These  women, 
Noble  hitherto  so  proud  of  their  noble  birth,  and  so  refined 

ladiesinthe  in  their  delicacy,  who,  as  St.  Jerome  says,  could  not 

cloister  1  ••  *)     ' 

proceed  a  step  except  carried  in  a  litter  by  eunuchs, 
and  who  even  then  could  not  endure  the  inequalities  of  the 
ground  which  they  had  thus  to  traverse,  who  found  the 
weight  of  a  silken  robe  too  heavy,  and  fled  from  the  least  ray 
of  the  sun  as  from  a  conflagration,  are  shortly  to  be  seen 
devoting  themselves  to  the  hardest  labors  and  the  most  re- 
pulsive cares.i'^ 

The  family  Amoug  the  great  houses  which  exemplified  this 
Anicia.  Christian  transformation  of  the  Roman  nobility,  the 
family  Anicia,  which  reckoned  its  descent  back  to  the  best 
times  of  the  republic,  and  which  seems  to  have  been  the 
richest  and  most  powerful  in  Rome  at  the  end  of  the  fourth 
centur}',  should  be  specially  distinguished.  It  reckoned  then 
among  its  members  the  famous  Anicius  Petronius  Probus, 
who  was  prefect  of  the  prastorium  —  that  is  to  say,  the  first 
personage  in  the  empire  after  the  emperor,  and  whose  son 
Petronius,  was.  according  to  some,  a  monk  before  he  became 
bishop  of  Bologna.15  It  afterwards  produced  the  two  great- 
est personages  of  monastic  history,  St.  Benedict  and  St. 
Gregory  the  Great;  and  already  the  two  most  illustrious 
doctors  of  the  West,  St.  Jerome  and  St.  Augustine,  vied  in 
celebrating  the  glory  of  a  race,  in  which  every  man  seemed 
born  a  consul,  yet  which  had  given  a  still  greater  number  of 
virgins  to  the  Church  than  of  consuls  to  the  republic.^® 

"  "  Inter  purpuras  senatorum  fulva  tunica  pullatus  incederet  .  .  .  quare 
non  est  parvum  viruni  nobilem,  virura  disertum,  virum  locupletem  potentium 
in  plateis  vitare  ooniitatuni,  miscere  se  turbis,  adhaerere  pauperibus,  rusticis 
copulari,  de  principe  vulguui  fieri  I  " —  S.  Hieron.,  Epist.  26,  ad  Pammach. 

'^  "  Quae  eunuelioruni  manibus  portabantur,  et  inaequale  solum  molestius 
transcendebant;  quibus  serioa  vestis  oneri  erat  et  solis  calor  ineendium."  — 
Ihid. 

'°  MoEHLER,  op.  cit.,  p.  194.  Tlie  Bollandists  say  nothing  of  it.  —  T.  ii., 
4  Octubris,  p.  424  et  seq. 

'®  "  Quis  verbis  explicet  .  .  .  quam  incomparabiliter  gloriosas  atque  fructu- 
osas  habeat  ex  vestro  santfuine  feniinas  virgines  Christus,  quam  viros  oon- 
sulcs  niuudus?" — S.  AuGUSTi>r.  Epist.  179.  De  Convers.  Demetriadis. 
"  lUustris  Anicii  saniiuinis  gpiius.  in  quo  aut  nuUus,  aut  rarus  est  qui  non 
meruerit  consulaturn."  —  S.  Hieron.,  Epist.  ad  Demetriadem.,  c.  2. 

This  same  race  has  inspired  the  poet  Chiudian  with  the  foilow'ing  ver.ses  :— 
"  Qaemciitii(]Uo  requires 
Hac  de  stirpe  virum,  certuni  est  de  consule  na£ci. 


IN    THE    WEST.  229 

Their  enthusiasm  had  for  its  object  a  young  nun  of  the 
same  race,  Demetrias,  whose  grandfather,  brother, 
and  two  uncles  were  consuls  from  371  to  406.  After  *'™*^  "^^' 
the  conquest  of  Rome  by  the  Goths,  she  took  refuge  in  Africa 
with  her  mother  Juliana  and  her  grandmother  Proba.  While 
Proba  sought  to  unite  her  to  one  of  the  3'oung  Roman  nobles 
who  were  their  companions  in  exile,  the  virgin  Demetrias, 
inspired  by  a  recollection  of  St.  Agnes,  threw  aside  all  her 
ornaments,  clothed  herself  in  a  coarse  tunic,  and  a  veil  still 
coarser  which  concealed  her  face,  and  threw  herself,  in  that 
attire,  at  the  feet  of  her  grandmother,  explaining  herself  only 
by  tears.  After  the  first  moment  of  surprise,  the  mother  and 
grandmother  applauded  the  sacrifice.  The  whole  Church  in 
Africa  was  touched  by  it,  and  the  two  greatest  writers  of  the 
time  have  immortalized  her  in  their  letters.  St.  Augustin 
congratulated  her  mother  and  grandmother  by  one  of  his 
most  eloquent  epistles. i"  St.  Jerome,  blessing  the  voluntary 
victim,  compared  the  effect  of  this  news  to  that  of  the  days 
when  a  victorious  consul  raised  the  hopes  of  the  republic 
when  cast  down  by  some  disaster. 

A  young  widow,  Marcella,  whose  name  alone  is 
enough  to  recall  the  best  days  of  the  republic,  and 
whose  rare  beauty,  enhanced  by  the  long  and  illustrious  lino 
of  her  ancestors,  drew  around  her  numerous  suitors,^s^vas  the 
first  to  receive  the  narratives  of  St.  Athanasius,  and  put  his 
instructions  into  practice.  Afterwards,  when  St.  Jerome 
came  to  Rome  to  renew  those  instructions  and  narratives  by 
adding  to  them  the  example  of  his  own  life,  Marcella,  with 
her  mother  Albinia,  and  her  sister  Asella,  placed  herself  at 
the  head  of  that  select  number  of  illustrious  matrons  who 
took  him  as  their  guide  and  oracle.  She  astonished  the  holy 
doctor  by  her  knowledge  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  she  fatigued 
him  by  her  thirst  always  to  know  more  of  them  than  he  could 

Per  fasces  numerantur  avi  semperque  renata 
Nobilitate  virent,  et  prolem  fata  sequuntur, 
Continuum  siniili  servantia  lege  tenoreni : 
Nee  quisquam  procerum  tentas,  licet  aere  vetusto 
Floreat,  et  claro  cingatur  Roma  senatu, 
Se  jactare  parem,  sed  prima  sede  relicta 
Auclieniis,  de  jure  licet  certare  secundo." 

Paneg.  de  Prob.  et  Olybr.  Consul. 
?'  Epist.  150. 

'*  '-Illustrem  familiam,  alti  sanguinis  decus,  et  stemmata  per  prcconsules 
tt  prafifectos  prsetorio  decurrentia.  .  .  .  Propter  setatem  et  antiquitatem  fa- 
milise,  et  insignem,  quod  maxime  viris  placere  consuevit,  decorem  corporis." 
—  S.  HiEKON.,  Epist.  16,  ad  Princi;p''am,  c.  1. 

VOL.  I.  20 


230  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

teach  her ;  she  made  him  afraid  to  find  in  her  a  judge  rather 
than  a  disciple. ^^  In  her  palace  on  Mount  Aventine,  she  col- 
lected, under  the  presidence  of  that  giant  of  controversy,  the 
most  worth}^  among  the  Christians,  and  the  most  pious  among 
the  noble  ladies,  for  mutual  strengthening  and  enlightenment. 
After  having  thus  first  given  to  Rome  the  true  model  of  a 
Christian  widow,  she  passed  the.  last  thirty  years  of  her  life 
in  her  suburban  vilhi  transformed  into  a  monastery,  and 
tliere,  in  the  absence  of  Jerome,  during  the  troublesome  con- 
tests which  took  place  between  him  and  Rufinus  upon  the 
doctrines  of  Origen,  she  became  the  support  of  orthodoxy  in 
Rome,  the  adviser  and  auxiliary  of  Pope  Anastasius.^o 
P^^.    .  About  the  same  time  a  Roman  lady  of  the  first  no- 

— '  .  bility,  Furia.  whose  name  indicates  her  descent  from 
the  great  Camillus,  being  left  a  widow  j^oung  and 
without  children,  addressed  herself  to  Jerome  to  ask  his  ad- 
vice upon  her  condition,  in  which  she  desired  to  remain,  in 
opposition  to  her  father  and  her  relatives,  who  urged  her  to 
marry  again.  He  drew  out  for  her  a  rule  of  life  which  should 
m:ike  her  widowhood  an  apprenticeship  to  monastic  life.^^ 
And  shortly  after,  in  the  year  400,  he  had  to  conduct  in  the 
same  path  the  3'oung  Salvina,  daughter  of  the  king  of  Mauri- 
tania and  widow  of  Hebridius,  the  nephew  of  the  Emperor  The- 
odosius,  a  great  friend  of  the  monks  and  of  the  poor.^^  She 
became  the  model  of  widows  at  Rome  and  Constantinople. 
St.  Paula  Silt  the  most  illustrious  of  all  is  that  Paula  whose 

an^^.j'er  mother  was  directly  descended  from  Paulus  Emilius 
'-^j-  "  and  the  younger  Scipio,  whose  father  professed  to 
34/-401.  trace  his  genealogy  up  to  Agamemnon,  and  whose 
husband  was  of  the  race  of  Julius,  and  consequently  of  the 
line  of  yEneas.-3  The  noblest  blood  of  Rome  flowed  in  the 
veins  of  these  holy  women,  immortalized  in  Christian  history 

'^  "  Cum  Roniae  essem,  nunqu.am  tam  festina  me  vi:lit,  ut  non  de  Scriptu- 
ris  aliquid  interrogarct.  .  .  .  Sagaci  mente  universa  pensabat,  ut  me  senti- 
rcm  non  tam  discipulam  habere  quam  judiccm."  —  S.  Hieron.,  Praef.  in 
Epist.  Paul,  ad  Galat.  "  Ita  ut  post  perfectionem  nostram,  si  de  aliquo 
testimonio  Scripturarum  cssctoborta  contentio,  ad  illam  judicera  pergeretur." 
•—  Ibid.,  Epist.  IG,  ad  Princip.,  c.  7. 

'■^°  S.  Hieron.     Compare  Bakonius,  Ann.,  ad.  an.  397. 

*'  Fleury,  lib.  xix.  c.  56. 

**  Hieron.,  Epist.  ad  Salvinam. 

•^  "  Gracchorum  stirps.  soboles  Scipionum,  Pauli  haeres,  cujus  vocabulura 
trahit,  Marciae  Papirias  niatris  Africani  vera  et  germana  progenies.  Pel 
omnes  fere  Graecias  usque  hodie  stemmatibus  et  divitiis  ae  nobilitate  Aga- 
memnonis  ferunt  sanguinem  trahere.  Toxotio  qui  .35neae  et  Julioruni  altis- 
simum  sanguinem  trahit."  —  S.  Hieron.,  Epist.  27,  ad  Eustoch. 


IN    THE    WEST.  231 

l»y  the  genius  of  St.  Jerome.  Who  does  not  know  these 
daughters  of  St.  Paula  —  Blesilla  the  widow,  who  died  so 
young,  so  amiable,  so  learned,  and  so  penitent,  after  having 
been  married  to  a  descendant  of  Camillus  —  and  Eustochia 
the  virgin,  whom  Jerome  honored  by  dedicating  to  her  the 
code  of  Christian  virginity  ?24  It  is  known  that  he  after- 
wards addressed  to  Loeta,  the  step-daughter  of  Paula,  the 
first  treatise  on  the  education  of  women  which  the  Christian 
spirit  had  inspired,  and  which  prepared  for  cloistral  life  the 
young  Paula,  devoted  to  the  Lord  from  the  cradle,  and  a  nun, 
like  her  grandmother  and  her  aunt.  He  offered,  with  the 
candor  of  genius,  to  educate  her  himself,  and,  "  old  avS  I  am," 
said  he,  "  I  shall  accustom  myself  lo  infantile  lispings,  more 
honored  in  this  than  Aristotle  was,  for  I  shall  instruct,  not  a 
king  of  Macedonia  destined  to  perish  by  the  poison  of  Baby- 
lon, but  a  servant  and  spouse  of  Christ,  to  be  presented  to 
Him  in  the  heavens." 

Paulina,  the  third  of  the  daughters  of  Paula,  was  married 
to  Pammachius,  himself  as  noble  by  his  consular  pamma- 
bi  ft  h  as  was  his  wife.  Becoming  a  widower  and  heir  *"'""^- 
of  the  great  possessions  of  Paulina,  he  also  embraced  monas- 
tic life,  and  was  worthy  of  being  declared  by  Jerome  the 
gcneral-in-chief  of  Roman  monks  —  "the  first  of  monks  in  the 
first  of  cities."  2^  *'  When  he  walks  in  the  streets,"  adds  the 
holy  doctor,  "  he  is  accompanied  by  the  poor  whom  Paulina 
had  endowed  and  lodged  in  her  house.  He  purifies  his  soul 
by  contact  with  their  mean  garments.  .  .  .  Who  should  have 
believed  that  a  last  descendant  of  the  consuls,  an  ornament 
of  the  race  of  Camillus,  could  make  up  his  mind  to  traverse 
the  city  in  the  black  robe  of  a  monk,  and  should  not  blush  to 
appear  thus  clad  in  the  midst  of  the  senators?  It  is  thus 
that  he,  ambitious  of  the  celestial  consulate,  wins  the  suf- 
frag(;^^  of  the  poor  by  gifts  more  powerful  than  games  or 
fipeL'tacles.  An  illustrious  man,  eloquent  and  rich,  he  de- 
scends from  the  highest  rank  of  the  state  to  be  the  compan- 
ion of  the  Roman  populace.  But  before  giving  himself  to 
Jesus  Christ,  his  name  was  known  only  in  the  senate  ;  ignored 
wi.en  he  was  rich,  it  is  blessed  to-day  in  all  the  churches  of 
t'le  universe." 

■•'  Epist.  22,  ad  Eustochiam,  de  Custodia  Virginitatis. 

'*  "  Primus  inter  monachos  in  prima  urbe.  consulum  pronepos  et  Furiani 
goriiiinis  decus.  Et  patris  et  conjugis  nobilitate  patritium.  Nunc  ruulti 
nionaciii  sapientes,  potentes,  nobiles,  quibus  cunctis  Pammachius  meus  sapi- 
entior,  potentior,  nobilior ;  magnus  in  magnis;  primus  in  primis ;  archistrw 
tegos  raonachoruni."  —  S.  Hieron.,  Epist.  ad  Pammach. 


232  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

Pammiichius,  who  thus  consecrated  his  fortune  and  his 
days  to  the  poor,  was  at  once  seconded  and  surpassed  in  his 
works  of  charity  by  a  widow  of  a  heart  stiil  more  great  than 
her  name;  this  was  rabiola,^^  of  that  wonderful 
race  of  the  Fabii,  three  hundred  of  whom  fell  in  a 
single  combat  for  Rome,  and  who  saved  the  city  by  bestow- 
ing on  her  that  great  man  against  whom  the  arm  of  Hannibal 
could  not  prevail.  Married  to  a  frightful  profligate,  she  had 
availed  herself  of  the  Roman  law  to  repudiate  him,  and  to 
unite  herself  to  a  more  worthy  husband  ;  afterwards,  enlight- 
ened by  her  faith,  she  expiated  that  fault  by  a  public  peni- 
tence in  the  Basilica  of  the  Lateran,  and  consecrated  her 
widowhood  to  a  long  and  fruitful  penance.  She  employed 
her  immense  wealth  in  the  foundation  of  the  first  hospital 
which  had  yet  been  seen  in  Rome,  where  she  collected  the 
sick  poor,  gathered  from  the  squares  of  the  city,  to  serve  and 
nourish  them  with  her  own  hands,  to  bathe  their  sores  and 
ulcers,  from  which  others  turned  their  eyes,  to  tend  their 
diseased  members,  and  to  solace  the  agony  of  the  dying.^" 
She  did  this  with  so  much  tenderness  and  maternal  feeling, 
that  the  healthful  poor  wished  for  sickness  that  they  might 
become  her  patients.  Her  maternal  generosity  extended 
from  the  poor  to  the  monks.  She  was  not  content  with  pro- 
viding for  the  necessities  of  all  the  cenobites  of  both  sexes 
at  Rome  and  throughout  Latium;  she  went  in  her  own  per- 
son, or  by  her  messengers,  to  relieve  the  poverty  of  the 
monasteries  hidden  in  the  bays  of  the  Mediterranean,  and 
even  in  the  isles,  wherever,  indeed,  choirs  of  monks  raised 
their  pure  and  plaintive  voices  to  heaven. 

Finally,  in  concert  with  Pammachius,  and  thus  giving  a 
prelude  to  one  of  the  most  permanent  and  universal  glories 
of  the  monastic  order,  she  built  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tiber^^ 
a  hospice  for  the  use  of  the  pilgrims  who  already  thronged 
to  Rome  ;  there  she  waited  their  arrival  and  departure,  to 
lavish  upon  them  her  cares  and  her  alms.  The  fame  of  her 
munificence  soon  resounded  through  all  the  Roman  world ; 
it  was  spoken  of  among  the  Britons,  and  remembered  with 

**  See  his  life  by  St.  Jerome,  Epist.  30,  ad  Oceaniim. 

vt  «i  prJiYia  omnium  viwuKo^tfiov  instituit,  in  quo  ajgrotantes  colligeret  de 
plateis,  et  consumpta  languoribus  atque  inedia  miserorum  membra  foveret 
Quoties  morbo  regio  et  paedore  cotifectos  humeris  suis  ipsa  portavit!  quotiea 
luvit  purulentam  vuinernra  saniem,  quam  alius  aspicere  non  valebat!  Spi- 
rans  cadaver  sorbitiuuculis  irrigabat."  —  S.  Hieuon.,  loc.  cit. 

'■'■^  At  Pnrtu  Romano,  now  Porto,  a  ruined  episcopal  town,  six  i  liles  from 
Ostia. 


IN    THE    WEST.  233 

gratitude  in  Egypt  and  in  Persia.^^  At  the  approach  of  death, 
she  convoked  by  writing  a  multitude  of  Religious  to  dis- 
tribute to  them  all  that  remained  of  her  wealth.  When  this 
woman,  who  was  called  the  solace  of  the  monks,''^''  slept  in  the 
Lord,  all  Rome  celebrated  her  obsequies  ;  the  chant  of  psalms 
and  Alleluiahs  rose  everywliere :  the  squares,  the  porticoes, 
the  roofs  of  the  houses,  could  not  contain  the  crowd  of  spec- 
tators. "  I  hear  from  this  distance,"  wrote  St.  Jerome  at 
Bethlehem,  "  the  thronging  footsteps  of  those  who  precede 
her  bier,  and  the  waves  of  the  multitude  wjiich  accompany 
it.  No,  Camillus  did  not  triumph  so  gloriously  over  the 
Gauls,  nor  Papirius  over  the  Samnites,  nor  Scipio  over  Nu- 
mantium,  nor  Pompey  over  Mithridates ;  the  pomp  of  all 
these  victors  is  not  equal  to  the  glory  of  this  courageous 
penitent." '^i  And  he  spoke  with  justice,  for  she  had  inau- 
gurated in  the  world,  between  the  disgrace  of  the  Roman 
empire  and  the  miseries  of  the  barbarian  invasion,  a  glory 
unknown  to  the  past ;  she  had  created  that  charity  which 
gives  more  than  bread,  more  than  gold  —  the  charity  which 
gives  the  man  himself — the  charity  of  the  monk  and  of  the 
nun. 

In  the  country  of  Lucretia  and  Portia,  too  long  stained  by 
the  Livias  and  Messalinas,  these  Christian  heroines  com- 
pleted Roman  history  and  opened  the  annals  of  the  monastic 
order ;  the}'-  bequeathed  to  it  types  of  chastity,  charity,  and 
austerity,  which  nothing  had  then  equalled,  and  which  noth- 
ing has  since  surpassed.  Monasteries  of  men  and  women 
multiplied  around  them  in  Rome,  where  each  prepared  him- 
self by  prayer,  fasting,  and  abstinence,  for  the  formidable 
crises  of  the  future,  and  where  the  last  scions  of  the  old  and 
invincible  Romans  waited  the  coming  of  the  barba-  Marceiiaat 
rians.  When  Rome  was  taken  and  sacked  for  the  Komfby*^ 
first  time  by  the  Goths  in  410,  the  soldiers  of  Alaric,  thcGotbs 
penetrating  into  the  eternal  city,  found  Marcella  calm  and 
intrepid  in  her  monastic  palace  on  Mount  Aventine,  as  the 
Gauls  of  Brennus  eight  centuries  before  had  found  the 
Roman  senators  waiting  death  in  silence  on  their  chairs  of 
ivory,  like  gods,  according  to  Livy.     They  demanded  gold 

"  "  Xendoohium  imperio  Romano  suuni  totus  pariter  mundus  audivit: 
Bub  una  estate  didicit  Britannia  quod  ^gyptus  et  Paribus  noverant  vere."  — 
S.  HiEKON.,  loc.  cit. 

*"  "  Solatium  monacborum."  —  Ihid. 

^'  "  Audio  prsecedcntium  turmas.    .  .  .    Non  sic  Furius  de  Gallis,  non 
Papirius  de  Samnitibus,  .  .  .  Tavebant  sibi  omnes  in  gloria  poenitentis." - 
Ibid.     Fabiola  died  in  399. 
20* 


234  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

from  that  venerable  mother  of  Roman  monasteries  ;  they  re- 
fused to  believe  in  the  voluntary  poverty  which  her  coarse 
tunic  attested  ;  they  struck  her  down  with  sticks  and  wliips/^ 
She  submitted  patiently  to  these  outrages,  but  prostrated 
herself  before  the  barbarians  to  ask  mercy  for  the  modesty  of 
the  young  nun  ^^  who  was  her  companion.  This  was  m  a 
manner  to  attempt  an  impossibility  :  these  ferocious  beasts, 
as  St.  Jerome  says,  who  periodically  invaded  the  empire, 
delighted  in  taking  as  the  playthings  of  their  savage  lust  the 
delicate  forms  of  noble  Roman  ladies,  of  free  women  and  con- 
secrated virgins.  However,  she  triumphed  by  her  prayers 
and  tears  over  their  licentiousness.  These  ol3scure  barba- 
rians renewed  the  sacrifice  wliich  has  immortalized  the 
younger  Scipio ;  and  Marcella,  taking  refuge  with  her  whom 
she  had  saved  at  the  tomb  of  St.  Paul,  died  as  if  buried  under 
that  supreme  and  difficult  victory. 

St  Jerome  ^'^  tlicso  holy  and  generous  women  have  been 
spiritual  revealed  to  us  by  the  man  of  genius,  who  was  their 
hrstorianof  Contemporary,  their  biographer,  and  their  oracle, 
the^nobie  -poT  forty  years  St.  Jerome,  first  at  Rome,  then 
sioT'o  ^^  Bethlehem,  instructed,  governed,  inspired,  and 
attracted  them  to  the  highest  possessions.  He 
admired  them  more,  perhaps,  than  he  had  been  admired  by 
them,  and  he  desired  that  posterity  should  share  this  admira- 
tion: he  has  succeeded  by  bequeathing  to  it  these  narratives, 
distinguished  by  his  impetuous  energy  and  ardent  emotion, 
which  the  Church  has  adopted,  and  which  form  one  of  the 
finest  pages  of  her  annals. 

Monastic  history  claims  the  glory  of  St.  Jerome  —  of  that 
lion  of  Christian  polemics,  at  once  inspired  and  subdued  ;  in- 
spired by  zeal,  and  subdued  by  penitence.  We  must  not 
attempt  to  retrace  here  all  the  life  of  this  great  doctor,  who, 
born  in  Dalmatia,-'^  carried  successively  to  Rome,  Gaul,  and 
Constantinople,  the  almost  savage  impetuosity  of  his  temper, 
the  ardor  of  his  faith,  the  indefatigable  activity  of  his  mind, 
the  immense  resources  of  his  knowledge,  and  that  inexhausti- 

^^  "  Marcellae  quoque  doraum  cruentus  victor  ingreditur.  .  .  .  Intrepido 
vultu  excepisse  dicitur  introgressos.  .  .  .  C^esani  t'ustibus  flagellisque."  — 
S.  HiERON.,  Epist.  16.  ad  Principiam. 

'^^  "  Ne  sustineret  adolesccntia  quod  senilis  stas  timere  non  poterat." —  S. 
HiKKON.,  loc.  cit.  "  Quot  niatronaj,  qunt  virgines  Dei  et  ingenua  nobiliaque 
corpora  liis  btlluis  fuere  ludibrio!  " —  Ibid.,  Epist.  35. 

^*  According  to  some,  in  331 ;  to  others,  in  340  or  346.  The  last  date  ap- 
pears tlie  most  correct.  See  the  excellent  Histoire  de  S.  JerSme  by  M.  Col- 
lombet.     Lyons,  1844. 


IN    TliE    WEST.  235 

ble  vebemonce,  which  sometimes  degenerated  into  empha- 
sis and  affectation,  but  which  most  frequently  attained  to 
true  eloquence,  Tliat  which  specially  interests  us  is  the 
monk,  the  hermit,  who,  coming  from  the  West,  attempted  to 
lead  back  the  monastic  current  to  its  source  in  the  East, 
and  who  would  perhaps  have  succeeded  in  regenerating  for 
long  ages  the  monks  of  the  East,  if  God  had  permitted  him  to 
instil  into  them  the  courage  and  energy  which  he  had  brought; 
from  the  depths  of  his  mountains.  Drawn  towards  solitude 
by  a  passionate  attraction,  and  by  the  desire  for  salvation 
which  possessed  him,  he  fled  the  vices  and  voluptuousness 
of  Rome  ;  he  sought  an  asylum  in  Syria  among  the  numerous 
anchorites  who  made  that  country  the  rival  of  monastic 
Egypt.  He  made  a  sort  of  citadel  for  himself  in  the  burning 
desert  of  Chalcis,  upon  the  confines  of  Arabia.  There  he 
buried  himself  in  the  study  of  Hebrew  and  Chaldean,  and 
prepared  himself  to  become  the  commentator  and  translator 
of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  He  joined  to  this  the  cultivation  of 
ancient  literature,  and  of  his  favorite  author  Cicero,  but  so 
eagerly  that  he  took  fright  and  vowed  to  renounce  it,  under 
the  impression  of  a  remarkable  dream,  forgotten  afterwards, 
as  was  also  his  rash  engagement,  to  the  great  profit  of  his 
genius  and  our  edification,  for  none  has  ever  evoked  more 
appropriately  and  majestically  the  great  recollections  of  clas- 
t^ic  antiquity .^^  Other  visions,  still  more  menacing,  troubled 
him  in  the  midst  of  the  prayers,  the  austerities,  and  the  ex- 
cessive fasts  which  he  imposed  upon  himself  for  the  love  of 
his  soul ;  he  was  pursued  with  the  remembrance  of  the  delights 
of  Rome,  and  of  its  choirs  of  young  girls,  who  came  to  people 
his  cell,  and  to  make  it  an  accomplice  of  his  own  burning  im- 
agination ;  ^^  but  soon  the  blessed  influence  of  solitude,  in- 
habited for  God,  triumphed  over  those  apparitions  of  the 
past.  He  felt  himself  sufficiently  strong,  sufficiently  reassured, 

'*  He  wrote  a  narrative  of  this  dream,  which  he  entitled  History  of  my 
Misfortune.  See  Collombet,  i.  c.  7,  and  ii.  c.  1,  on  the  subject  of  the  clas- 
sical ^tudies  of  Jerome,  which  he  did  not  hesitate  to  continue  in  spite  of  this 
warning,  and  for  which  he  is  reproached  so  severely  by  his  antagonist  Kufi- 
nus.  He  remembered  his  dream  and  promise  so  little,  that  he  made  the  monks 
copy  the  dialogues  of  Cicero,  explained  Virgil  at  Bethlehem,  and  answered 
to  the  accusations  of  Rufinus,  that,  after  all,  this  was  only  a  question  of  a 
dream.  "  Re  who  upbraids  me  with  a  dream,  I  refer  to  the  prophets,  who 
teach  thai  dreams  are  vain  and  not  worthy  of  faith." —  Contr.  Rufin,  i.  30, 
quoted  by  Ozanam,  Civilisation  au  ve  Siecle,  i.  301,  where  this  whole  subject 
is  fully  discussed. 

^  "Ipsani  quoque  cellulam  meam,  quasi  cogitationura  mearum  consciam, 
pertimescebam."  —  Epist.  22,  ad  Eustochiam, 


236  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

to  call  to  the  end  of  his  retirement  a  friend  of  his  youth, 
whose  salvation  was  dear  to  him.  He  cried  to  him  acrosa 
the  seas,  "  0  desert  enamelled  with  the  flowers  of  Christ ! 
0  solitude,  where  those  stones  are  born  of  which,  in  tho 
Apocalypse,  is  built  the  city  of  the  Great  King  !  0  retreat 
which  rejoicest  in  the  friendship  of  God  !  What  doest  thou 
in  the  world,  my  brother,  with  thy  soul  greater  than  the 
world?  How  long  wilt  thou  remain  in  the  shadow  of  roofs, 
and  in  the  smoky  dungeon  of  cities  ?  Believe  me,  1  see  here 
more  of  the  lio;ht."-^" 

After  having  enjoyed  that  light  for  five  3'eai-s,  he  was 
driven  from  his  dear  solitude  by  tho  calumnious  accusations, 
which  his  character  as  a  man  of  the  VYest  excited  around 
him.  He  took  refuge  successively  in  Jerusalem  ;  at  Antioch, 
where  ho  was  ordained  priest,  but  on  condition  of  not  being 
attached  to  any  church,  and  of  continuing  to  live  as  a  monk; 
in  Constantinople,  whither  he  was  drawn  by  the  fame  of  St. 
Gregory  of  Nazianzus ;  in  Rome,  where  he  was  secretary  to 
the  great  pope  Damasus;  and  in  Alexandria,  from  whence 
he  went  to  visit  the  hermits  of  the  Thebaic!.  Finally,  in  385, 
he  returned,  not  to  leave  it  again,  to  the  Holy  Land,  and 
settled  at  Bethlehem,  where  he  built  for  himself  a  little  mon- 
astery with  a  hospice  for  pilgrimi^.^^  There,  in  a  poor  and 
narrow  cell,  eager  to  receive  the  inspirations  of  faith  near 
the  manger  of  the  Saviour,  and  faithful  above  all  to  the  law  of 
labor,  which  he  regarded  as  the  foundation  of  monastic  life, 
this  glorious  cenobite  accomplished  the  translation  and  com- 
mentary of  the  Scriptures.  He  produced  thus  that  Vulgate 
which  has  made  him  *'  the  master  of  Christian  prose  for  all 
following  ages."  ^^  He  joined  to  that  great  work  the  educa- 
tion of  some  little  children,  whom  he  instructed  in  humane 
letters.  He  received  there  with  hospitality  the  monks  whom 
his  renown  drew  from  all  the  corners  of  the  world,  and  who 
overwhelmed  him  by  their  visits,**^  and  the  remains  of  the 
Roman  nobility  who,  ruined   by  the   sack  of  Rome,  fled  to 

"  "  O  dosertum  floribus  Christi  vernans !  .  .  .  O  domus  familiarius  Deo 
gaudens  !  "  —  Epist.  1,  ad  Heliod. 

■**  "  Apiid  Bethleein  degens,  ubi  et  monasterium  sibicondidit."  —  Makcel- 
*iNi  Chronic,  an  392.  "'Nos  in  ista  provincia  aedificato  monasterio  et  diver- 
sorio  propter  exstructo."  —  Epist.  26;  ad  Pammach.  He  afterwards  inliabited 
and  ruled  the  monastery  wliich  St.  Paula  had  built  at  Bethlehem. 

^*  OzANAM,  Civilisation  au  ve  Siecle,  ii.  p.  100.  See  also  his  admirable 
loth  lesson,  entitled  Comment  la  Langue  Latine  devint  Chritienne,  one  of  the 
finest  passages  of  this  masterpiece  of  our  Catholic  history. 

*"  "  Tantis  de  toto  orbe  confiuentibus  obruimur  turbis  monachoruoi." — 
Epist.  26,  ad  Pammacfi. 


IN   THE   WEST.  23? 

Bethleliem  to  seek  food  and  shelter  from  him.  Re  continued 
there  the  bold  warfare  which  he  had  waged  all  his  life 
against  the  errors  and  disorders  with  which  he  saw  the 
Church  infected,  and  which  raised  such  violent  enmities 
against  him.  A  severe  outbreak  of  this  emnity  came  upon 
him  towards  the  end  of  his  days,  when  the  Pelagians,  to 
avenge  his  attacks  against  their  chief  who  issued  his  dogmas 
at  Jerusalem  came  to  besiege,  plunder,  and  burn  the  com- 
munities directed  by  Jerome,  who  only  escaped  by  taking 
refuge  in  a  fortified  tower.^^ 

During  his  sojourn  in  Rome,  he  had  spread  the  love  for 
monastic  life  with  as  much  zeal  as  success.  At  Bethlehem 
he  continued  that  apostolic  office,  and  led  back  from  the 
bosom  of  Italy  numerous  and  illustrious  recruits,  who  gave 
their  all  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  of  Christ,  and  whom  he 
enrolled  in  the  monastic  legions.  He  pursued  strictly  those 
who  resisted,  or  turned  back  at  the  last  moment.  He  writes 
to  Julian  :  ''  Thou  hast  given  thy  goods  to  many  poor,  but 
there  are  many  more  still  to  whom  thou  hast  not  given.  The 
riches  of  Croesus  would  not  suffice  for  the  solacement  of  those 
who  suffer.  Thou  protectest  the  monks,  thou  makest  gifts 
to  the  churches,  thou  puttest  thyself  at  the  service  of  the 
saints ;  one  thing  only  remains  for  thee  to  do  :  it  is  to  change 
thy  life,  and  henceforth  to  be  a  saint  among  the  saints."  *^ 

But  his  admiration  for  monastic  life  did  not  blind  no  points 
him  to  the  vices  and  abuses  which  already  appeared   out  the 

1  1  •  XT  1  11  errors  of 

among  the  cenobites.  JNo  one  has  denounced,  no  the  false 
one  has  branded,  more  energetically  than  he,  the  ™""''''- 
false  monks,  the  false  penitents,  the  false  widows  and  virgins. 
He  points  out  with  a  bold  hand  all  the  faults  and  dangers  of 
the  institution  :  sometimes  the  black  melancholy,  degenerat- 
ing into  hypochondria,  which  followed  an  excess  of  reading 
or  immoderate  fasts,  and  which  was  more  adapted  to  receive 
the  help  of  medicine  than  the  instructions  of  penitence  ; '^^ 
Bometimes  the  pomp  and  luxury  which  disguised  themselves 
under  the  cloak  of  the  solitary,  without  giving  up  the  dain- 
ties of  the  table,  the  vessels  of  gold,  and  the  delicate  glass, 
the  herd  of  boon-companions  and  attendants  ;^^  or,  again,  the 
hypocrisy  which  worked  upon  the  credulous  piety  of  nobles 

*'   S.  August.,  de  Gestis  Pelag.  *^  Epist.  34,  ad  Julian. 

''•'  "  Veituntur  in  mclancholiam,  et  Hippocratis  niagis  foraentis  quam  nos- 
tris  monitis  indigent."  —  Epist.  225  (al.  7),  ad  Rusticum  ;  130  (al.  8),  ad 
Demetriadem. 

**  "  Ex  vitro  et  patella  tictili  aurum  coraeditur,  et  inter  turbas  et  examins 
niinisirorum  nomen  sibivindicant  solitarii."  —  Epist.  225  (al.  4),  ad  Rusticum. 


£38  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

and  of  women  ;^^  but  especially  the  pride,  which  emboldened 
so-called  converts  to  judge  their  brothers  who  remained  in 
the  world,  to  disdain  even  the  bishops,  and  to  come  out  of 
their  cells  in  order  to  wander  about  the  towns,  and  annoy, 
under  a  false  air  of  modesty,  the  passers  by  in  public  places.*^ 
This  legitimate  severity  inspired  him  with  all  the 
to'coHeT  more  lively  an  admiration  for  the  first  great  founders 
the  Fathers  ^^  mouastic  life,  whosc  traditions  he  had  collected, 
oftheDes-  audwhoso  atmosphere  he  had  breathed  in  Egypt. 
He  undertook  to  write  the  lives  of  some  of  the  most 
illustrious  —  of  Paul,  of  Hilarion,  of  the  solitary  Malchus, 
whom  he  had  known  and  heard  in  Syria  ;  he  added  to  these 
the  biographies  of  the  illustrious  Roman  women  who,  a  cen- 
tury later,  had  renewed  even  in  the  bosom  of  Rome  marvels 
worthy  of  the  Thebaid.  "  These  are,"  said  he,  with  a  pride, 
in  which  the  echo  of  warlike  and  literary  ambition  seems  to 
resound  —  ''these  are  our  models  and  our  leaders.  Every 
profession  has  its  models.  Let  the  Roman  generals  imitate 
Regains  and  Scipio  ;  let  the  philosophers  follow  Pythagoras 
and  Socrates  ;  the  poets  Homer ;  the  orators,  Lysias  and  the 
Gracchi :  but  for  us,  let  our  models  and  our  chiefs  be  the 
Pf,uls  and  the  Anthonys,  the  Hilarions  and  the  Macarii."^" 
Then,  making  a  noble  return  upon  himself,  he  terminates 
thus  one  of  his  finest  narratives:  "  1  conjure  thee,  whoever 
thou  mayst  be,  who  readest  this,  to  remember  the  sinner 
Jerome,  who  would  much  rather  choose,  if  God  gave  him  the 
option,  the  tunic  of  Paul  with  his  merits,  than  the  purple  and 
the  empire  of  kings  with  their  torments."  ^^ 

Such  lessons,  supported  by  his  glorious  example,  sufBced, 
and  more  than  sufficed,  to  make  that  father  of  the  West  in 
his  Eastern  refuge  the  head  and  oracle  of  the  cenobitcs  of 
his  time.  Disciples  therefore  gathered  round  him  in  a  crowd, 
and  when  he  died  an  octogenarian,  in  420,  he  could  leave 
directions  that  he  was  to  be  buried  beside  the  noble  Paula  *^ 
and  her  daugliter  Eustochia,^'^  who  had  come  to  live  and  die 
near  him  and  the  humble  sanctuary  where  the  Saviour  of 
men  was  born. 

**  Epist.  18  (al.  22),  ad  Eustochiam. 

*^  Epist.  15  (al.  77),  ad  Mar  cum ;  95  (al.  4),  ad  Rusticum. 

*'  "  Habet  unumquodque  propositum  principes  suos.  Romani  duces  imi- 
tentur  Camillos,  Fabricios,  Regulos,  Scipiones.  Philosopbi  proponant  sibi 
Pythagoram,  Socrateni,  Platonein,  Aristotelem;  poetaa  Homerura,  etc. ;  ora- 
tores  Lysiam,  Gracchos,  etc.  Nos  autem  habeanius  propositi  nostri  principea 
Paulos  et  Antonios,  Julianos,  Hilarionem,  Macarios." 

48  u  Xunicam  Pauli  cum  meritis  ejus,  quaiii  regum  purpuram  cum  poenis 
suis  (aZ.  cum  rcgnis  suis)." 

*»  Died  in  404.  '"  Died  in  419. 


m   THE   WEST.  239 

Jerome  liad  been  the  leader  of  tliat  permanetil  Roman 
immigration  which,  during  the  last  years  of  the  h^o'pJiies" 
fourth  century,  drew  so  many  noble  Romans  and  ^'n'^- 
Christians  of  the  West  towards  Palestine  and  Egypt.  Iv 
proportion  as  souls  were  more  penetrated  with  the  truths  of 
the  faith,  and  gave  themselves  to  the  practice  of  Christian 
virtues,  they  experienced  an  attraction  more  and  more  irre- 
sistible tovv^ards  the  countries  which  were  at  once  the  cradle 
of  the  Christian  religit)n  and  of  monastic  life.  Then  were 
seen  beginning  those  pilgrimages  wiiich  ended  in  the  Cru- 
sades, which  ceased  only  with  the  decline  of  faith,  and  which 
have  been  replaced  by  explorations  too  often  inspired  by  the 
love  of  gain  or  by  frivolous  curiosity.  Two  great  interests 
then  moved  the  hearts  of  Christians,  led  them  from  their 
homes,  and  threw  them  into  the  midst  of  the  difficulties,  perils, 
and  tediousness,  now  incomprehensible,  of  a  journey  to  the 
East.  They  would  kiss  the  footsteps  of  the  Lord  Jesus  upon 
the  very  soil  where  Ho  had  encountered  life  and  death  for 
our  salvation ;  they  would  also  survey  and  see  with  their 
own  eyes  those  deserts,  caverns,  and  rocks,  where  still  lived 
the  men  who  seemed  to  reach  nearest  to  Christ  by  their 
supernatural  austerity,  and  their  brave  obedience  to  the  most 
difficult  precepts  of  the  Saviour. 

The  illustrious  Paula,  still  young,  and  attached  to   st.  Pauia, 
Italy  by  the  most  legitimate  and  tender  ties,  hastened  ["67,  and^**' 
to   follow  in   the   steps  of  St.  Jerome,^i  in  order  to  hergnmd- 
visit  the  solitude  which  the  Pauls  and  Anthonys  liad   atuethic- 
sanctified.^2     She  left  her  country,  her  family,  even  ~^™" 
her  children,-^^  and,  accompanied   by  her  daughter  Eustochia, 
crossed  the  Mediterranean,  disembarked  in  Syria,  went  over 
the  Holy  Laud,  and  all  the  places  named  in  Scripture,  with 
an  unwearied  ardor :  then  descended  into  Egypt,  and,  pene- 
trating into  the  desert  of  Nitria,  into  the  cells  of  the  holy 
nerraits,  she  prostrated  herself  at  their  feet,  consulted  them, 
admired  them,  and   withdrew   with  reluctance   from   these 
blessed  regions  to  return  into   Palestine.     She   established 
herself  in  Bethlehem,  and   founded  there  two  monasteries, 
one  for  men,  wliich  Jerome   seems  to  have  governed;  the 
other,  very  numerous,  for  women,  where  she   secluded  her- 
self with  her  daughter  and  a  multitude  of  virgins  of  varioua 

*'  Mclania  had  preceded  her  in  372,  but  it  is  not  apparent  that  the  exhorta- 
tions of  Jerome  had  induced  her  to  make  this  journey. 

'^  "Ad  eremuni  Pauloruni  atque  Antoniorum  pergere  gestiebat." — Epi$t> 
27,  ad  Eustochiam. 

*^  "  Nesciebat  se  matrem,  ut  Christi  probaret  ancillam."  —  Ibid. 


240  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

conditions  and  countries.  Both  ended  their  days  there,  ag 
also  did  the  young  Paula,  who  came  to  rejoin  her  grandmother 
and  aunt,  to  live  and  die  near  the  tomb  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
thus  to  justify  the  tender  solicitude  with  which  St.  Jerome 
had  surrounded  her  cradle.  The  grandmother  held  there, 
as  dii  her  daughter,  the  office  of  sweeper  and  cook,  and  the 
care  of  the  lamps,^*  which  did  not  hinder  them  from  taking 
up  again  with  perseverance  their  former  Greek  and  Hebrew 
studies.  The  Vulgate  was  undertaken  by  St.  Jerome  to 
satisfy  the  ardor  of  these  two  women,  to  enlighten  their 
doubts,  and  guide  their  researches.  It  was  to  them  that  he 
dedicated  his  work,  and  he  took  them  for  judges  of  the  ex- 
actness of  his  labor.^^  In  this  convent  study  was  imposed 
upon  the  nuns,  and  each  had  to  learn  every  day  a  portion  of 
the  Holy  Scripture.  But  more  than  study,  more  even  than 
penitence,  charity  governed  all  the  thoughts  and  actions  of 
this  generous  Roman.  She  lavished  her  patrimony  in  alms  : 
sne  never  refused  a  poor  person  :  Jerome  himself  felt  obliged 
to  reprove  her  for  her  prodigality,  and  preach  to  her  a  certain 
prudence.^^  '*  I  have  but  one  desire,"  she  answered  him, 
with  the  same  passion  of  charity  which  afterwards  burned  in 
St.  Elizabeth  ;  "  it  is  to  die  a  beggar,  it  is  to  leave  not  a  mite 
to  my  daughter,  and  to  be  buried  in  a  shroud  which  does  not 
belong  to  me.  If  I  am  reduced  to  beg,"  slie  added,  '^  I  shall 
find  many  people  who  will  give  to  me,  but  if  the  mendicant 
who  begs  from  me  obtains  nothing  and  dies  of  want,  who  but 
me  shall  be  answerable  for  his  soul  ?  "  Accordingly,  when 
she  died,  she  left  to  her  daughter  not  an  obolus,  says  Jerome, 
but  on  the  contrary  a  mass  of  debts,  and,  which  was  worse, 
an  immense  crowd  of  brothers  and  sisters  whom  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  feed,  and  whom  it  would  have  been  impious  to  send 
away.^^  In  reality,  though  she  allowed  herself  to  be  advised 
and  blamed  for  her  exorbitant  almsgiving,  she  knew  well 
that  he  would  understand  her,  who  had  stripped  himself  of 
all,  and  who  afterwards  sent  his  brother  Paulinian  into  his 
own  country,  into  Dalmatia,  to  sell  the  possessions  of  the 

54  *' Vel  lucernas  concinnant,  vel  succendunt  focum,  paviinenta  verrunt, 
mundant  legumina  .  .  .  apponunt  mensas,  calices  porrigunt  efTundunt  ci- 
bos.  .  .  "  —  Epist.  26,  ad  Famwach. 

**  Epist.  92,  ad  Paul,  et  Rust.     Compare  Ozanam,  ii.  101. 

*®  *'  Eateor  errorem  meum ;  cum  in  largiendo  esset  propitior,  arguebam. 
.  .  .  Hoc  habere  voti,  ut  mendicans  ipsa  moreretur,  ut  unum  nummuin  filjaa 
non  dimitteret.  .  .  ."  —  Ibid. 

"  "  Ne  unum  quidem  hominum,  sed  .  .  .  fratrum  et  sororum  immensani 
tnultitudinem,  quos  sustentare  arduum  et  abjicere  impium  est." 


IN   THE    WEST.  241 

family  there,  and  make  as  much  money  of  them  as  he  could, 
in  order  to  relieve  the  poverty  to  which  the  monasteries  of 
Bethlehem  were  reduced. 

However,  it  is  pleasant  to  know  that  these  austere  Chris- 
tians, these  Romans  so  boldly  courageous  against  themselves, 
preserved  in  thei^'  hearts  an  abundant  vein  of  tenderness,  and 
attached  themselves  with  ardor  to  those  ties  which  they  be- 
lieved it  possible  to  retain  in  giving  themselves  to  God. 
Maternal  and  filial  love  still  overflowed  their  intrepid  hearts. 
At  the  funeral  of  Blesilla,  her  eldest  daughter,  Paula  could 
not  restrain  her  grief,  and  fell  fainting :  her  life  was  sup- 
posed in  danger.  Jerome,  in  an  eloquent  letter,  had  to  use 
all  his  authority  to  lead  her  to  resignation  to  the  will  of  the 
Most  High,  showing  her  that  the  excess  of  her  grief  was  a 
scandal  in  the  eyes  of  the  pagans,  a  dishonor  to  the  Church 
and  the  monastic  condition.  When  Paula  died,  twenty  years 
later,  in  her  convent  of  Bethlehem,  Eustochia,  after  having 
lavished  the  most  minute  and  indefatigable  cares  upon  her 
during  her  last  illness,  hastened  from  her  mother's  deathbed 
to  the  grotto  where  the  Saviour  was  born,  to  obtain  of  God, 
by  tears  and  prayers,  that  He  would  permit  her  to  die  at  the 
same  time,  and  be  buried  in  the  same  coffin.  Then,  as  they 
bore  that  holy  Avoman  to  her  tomb,  she  threw  herself  upon 
the  body  of  her  mother,  kissing  her  eyes,  clasping  her  in  her 
arms,  and  crying  out  that  she  would  be  interred  with  her.^^ 
Once  more  St.  Jerome  had  to  repress  that  weakness,  and 
separate  the  orphan  nun  from  the  holy  remains,  to  place  them 
in  the  tomb  which  he  had  hollowed  out  of  a  rock  beside  the 
grotto  of  the  Nativity,  and  upon  which  he  carved  these 
words :  "  Here  reposes  the  daughter  of  the  Scipios,  and  of 
Paulus  Emilius,  the  descendant  of  the  Gracchi  and  of  Aga- 
memnon, Paula,  the  first  of  the  Roman  senate  ;  she  left  her 
family  and  Rome  her  country,  her  fortune  and  her  children, 
to  live  poor  at  Bethlehem,  near  Thy  cradle,  0  Christ !  where 
the  Magi  honored  in  Thee  the  man  and  the  God."  ^^ 

*^  "  Ipsa  flabellura  tenere  .  .  .  pulvillum  supponere,  fricare  pedes,  aquam 
calidam  temperare  .  .  .  omnium  ancillarum  praevenire  officia.  .  .  .  Quilms 
precibus  .  .  .  inter  jacentem  niatrem  et  specum  Domini  discurrit  .  .  .  ut 
eodem  feretro  portaretur.  .  .  .  Quasi  ablactata  super  matrem  suam,  abstrahi 
a  parente  non  potuit;  deosculari  oculos  .  .  .  et  se  cum  matre  velle  sepeliri." 
—  HiERON.,  Epist.  27,  ad  Eiistoch. 

**  "  Scipio  quam  genuit,  Pauli  fudere  parentes, 
Gracchorum  soboles.  .  .  . 

Romani  prima  senatus, 
Pauperiem  Christi  et  Bethlemica  rura  secuta  est.  ..." 

HiGBON.,  Epist.  27,  ad  Eustoch, 
VOL.  I.  21 


242  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

The  noble  Fabiola,  whose  liberality  towards  the  poor  iu 
Rome  we  have  already  recorded,  had  also  come  to  Jerusalem 
and  to  Bethlehem,  and  was  there  with  St.  Jerome  and  St. 
Paulo.  But  she  did  not  remain  there.  The  fear  of  the  in- 
vasion of  the  Huns  recalled  her  to  Rome.  Marcella,  who 
survived  all  these  holy  women,  although  their  elder  both  in 
age  and  conversion,  had  not  yielded  to  the  eloquent  tender- 
ness of  the  appeal  which  Jerome  addressed  to  her,^^  in  the 
name  of  Paula  and  her  daughter.  ''  Leave,"  they  said  to  her, 
**  that  Rome  where  everything  is  adverse  to  the  vocation  and 
peace  of  a  nun.  Here,  on  the  contrary,  in  this  country  of 
Christ,  all  is  simplicity,  all  is  silence.  Wherever  you  go,  the 
husbandman,  leaning  on  his  plough,  murmurs  the  praises  of 
God ;  the  reaper  refreshes  himself  by  the  chant  of  psalms, 
and  the  vintager,  in  cutting  his  vine,  repeats  the  songs  of 
David.  These  are  the  love-songs  of  this  country,  the  melo- 
dies of  the  shepherd,  the  accompaniment  of  the  laborer."  ^^ 
Thotwo  But,   about   the     same    period,   another  woman, 

Meianias.      iHustrious  and  holy,  issued  from  another  branch  of 
Meianiathe  the  family  of  Marcellus,  Melania  the  elder,  daughter 

—  of  a  consul,  mother  of  a  prgetor,  celebrated  in  all  the 
.347-409.  Church  for  her  shining  virtue  and  devotion  to  the 
monks,  became  the  stem  of  a  numerous  line  of  holy  souls, 
belonging  at  once  to  the  monastic  life  and  to  the  first  nobility 
of  Rome.^2  Under  her  direction  another  monastic  colony  rose 
at  Jerusalem,  rivalling  by  its  devotion  and  charity  that  which 
Jerome  and  Paula  directed  at  Bethlehem. 

Left  a  widow  at  twenty-two,  having  lost  in  the  space  of  a 
year  her  husband  and  two  of  her  sons,  and  having  only  one 
little  child,  whom  she  confided  to  Christian  hands,  Melania 
left  Rome  and  sailed  towards  Egypt,  to  console  her  grief  and 
warm  her  faith  by  the  marvellous  spectacle  of  the  life  led  by 
the  solitaries  who  seemed  already  to  live  with  the  angels. 
It  was  in  372,  the  last  year  of  the  life  of  St.  Athanasius.^^ 
Melania,  at  her  landing,  saw  the  great  bishop  of  Alexandria, 

*"  After  the  death  of  her  mother  Alhina,  ahout  388. 

®'  Translation  of  M.  Villemain,  Tableau  del' Eloquence  Ghreticnne  au  iv* 
Sicde. 

62  "Melania  nobilissima  Romanorum  mulier."  —  S.  Hierontm.,  Chron. 
Compare  Roswetde,  Not.  in  Pralud.  lib.  ii.  Vit.  Patrum.  Melania,  born 
at  soonest  in  347  (Roswetde,  p.  441),  was,  according  to  St.  Paulinus,  grand- 
daughter of  Marcellinus,  consul  in  341;  according  to  St.  Jerome,  she  was 
his  daughter. 

*^  This  was  also  the  year  of  St.  Jerome's  first  pilgrimage  into  Egypt.  — 
Roswetde,  Prcelud.  in  lib.  ii. 


IN   THE    WEST.  243 

and  received  from  his  hands  a  relic  of  the  Thebaid,  a  sheep- 
skin which   he  himself  had  received  from  the  holy    „    . 

,        ..  1        •     i.        Hrrjour- 

abbot  Macanus.  bhe  penetrated  atterwards  into  neyinthe 
the  desert  of  Nitria  and  of  Scete,and  passed  nearly  ^''*^'"*''^- 
six  months  in  receiving  the  lessons  and  studying  the  austeri- 
ties of  the  solitaries  who  dwelt  there.  The  bishop  Palladius 
and  the  priest  Rufinus,  who  met  her  there,  have  left  to  us 
the  most  fascinating  narrative  of  her  pilgrimages  in  these 
holy  solitudes.^*  At  the  death  of  Athanasius,  the  Arians, 
sure  of  the  support  of  the  Emperor  Valens,.  raised  against  the 
orthodox  one  of  the  most  atrocious  persecutions  which  his- 
tory has  recorded.  The  monks,  as  has  been  already  said, 
were  its  principal  victims.  Melania,  who  had  already  braved 
the  interdict  of  the  emperor  by  landing  in  Egypt,*^^  put  her 
life  and  hisr  fortune  at  the  service  of  the  confessors  of  the 
true  doctrine.  She  concealed  some  from  the  search  of  the 
executioners  ;  she  encouraged  others  to  appear  before  the 
tribunal  of  the  persecuting  magistrates,  where  she  accompa- 
nied them,  where  she  was  herself  cited  as  a  rebel  against  the 
divine  emperor,  but  where  her  courage  triumphed  over  the 
confounded  judges.  For  three  days  she  provided,  at  her 
own  expense,  for  the  five  thousand  monks  whom  she  found 
in  Nitria.^3  A  great  number  of  orthodox  bishops  and  monks 
having  been  banished  to  Palestine,  she  followed  them  ;  and 
this  noble  woman  might  be  seen  in  the  evening,  disguised 
under  the  coarse  mantle  of  a  servant,^'^  carrying  to  the  pris- 
oners the  assistance  they  needed.  The  consular  magistrate 
of  Palestine,  not  knowing  who  she  was,  arrested  her  in  the 
hope  of  a  great  ransom.  Upon  this  she  resumed  all  the 
pride  of  her  race,  and  invoked,  like  St.  Paul,  her  rights  as 
a  Roman.  ''  I  am,"  she  said  to  him,  "  the  daughter  of  a  con- 
sul;  I  have  been  the  wife  of  a  man  illustrious  in  his  gen- 
eration;—  now  I  am  the  servant  of  Christ.  Despise  me 
not  because  of  my  mean  dress,  for  I  can  attain  a  higher  rank 
if  I  will;  and  I  have  sufficient  credit  to  keep  me  from 
fearing  you,  and  to  hinder  you  from  touching  my  goods. 
But  lest  you  should  do  wrong  by  ignorance,  I  have  thought 
it  right  to  let  you  know  who  I  am."  And  she  added,  "  We 
must  know  how  to  make  head  against  fools,  setting  our  pride 

®*  De  Vitis  Patrum,  lib.  ii.,  auct.  Rcfin.,  Aquileiensi  presbyt.,  et  lib.  viii., 
auct.  Pallad.,  Helenopol.  episc. 

**  Palladius,  op.  cit.,  p.  772. 

®*  "  Tempore  Valentis,  quando  Ecclesiam  Dei  vivi  furor  Arianorum,  rege 
ipso  impietatis  satellite."  —  S.  Paulin.,  Epist.  10;  Roswetde,  pp.  427,  442 

*^  "  Induta  servili  caracalia."  —  Pallad.,  Ioc.  cit.  773. 


244  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

against  their  insolence,  as  we  loose  a  hound  or  a  falcon 
against  the  deer."  ^^  The  terrified  magistrate  offered  ex. 
cuses  and  homage/^  and  left  her  all  liberty  to  communicate 
with  the  exiles. 

siicestab-  Piety  retained  her  in  the  Holy  Land,  whither 
Bei'ratJer-  shc  had  been  drawn  by  her  generous  sympathy  for 
uBaiem.  the  defenders  of  the  faith.  She  established  herself 
at  Jerusalem,  and  built  a  monastery  there,  where  she  col- 
lected fifty  virgins.  For  twenty-five '^  years  she  devoted  to 
the  rolief  of  the  poor,  and  the  entertainment  of  the  bishops, 
monks,  and  pilgrims  of  every  condition,  who  came  in  multi- 
tudes to  these  holy  places,  her  own  services,  and  the  reve- 
nues which  her  son  sent  to  her  from  Rome.  She  was  guided 
and  seconded  by  the  celebrated  priest  Rufinus,  who  inhabited 
a  cell  on  the  Mount  of  Olives,  and  who  was  at  that  period  the 
old  and  tender  friend  of  Jerome.  A  dispute  afterwards  took 
place  between  Rufinus  and  Jerome,  occasioned  by  the  doc- 
trines of  Origen  :  their  rupture  long  agitated  the  Church, 
and  drew  from  them  melancholy  invectives  against  each 
other.  Melania  succeeded  in  bringing  about  a  public  and 
solemn  reconciliation  between  them,  but  it  was  not  lasting."^ 
Mehiniathe  In  the  mean  time,  the  only  son  whom  Melania  had 
younger.  jg|-j.  -j,^  Rome,  and  who  had  become  prgstor,  had  mar- 
360-439.  ried  Albina,  the  sister  of  Volusian,  prefect  of  the 
city,  one  of  the  most  noble  personages  of  the  time.  He  had 
one  daughter,  named  Melania,  like  her  grandmother,  who  had 
been  married  at  a  very  early  age  to  Pinianus,  the  son  of  a 
governor  of  Italy  and  Africa,  and  descendant  of  Valerius 
Publicola,  the  great  consul  of  the  first  year  of  the  Roman 
republic.  But  the  inclination  of  this  yonna:  woman  drew  her 
rather  towards  penitence  and  solitary  life  than  to  the  pomp8 
of  Roman  decadence.  Melania  the  elder,  desirous  of  aiding 
her  to  walk  courageously  in  the  way  of  salvation,  left  Jeru- 
salem to  join  her  in  Rome.     She  landed  at  Naples,  in  the  end 

*'  "  Quajnam  sim  tibi  declaravi.  Oportet  enim  adversus  stolidos,  tanquatn 
cane  et  accipitre  uti  animi  elatione."  —  Ibid. 

^'  '•  Adoravit  earn."  —  Ibid. 

'■0  Palladius  says  for  thirty-seven  years,  but  this  number  seems  to  us  diffi- 
cult to  reconcile  with  the  latter  events  in  the  life  of  Melania,  at  least  under 
the  supposition  that  she  returned  to  live  at  Jerusalem  between  her  jour- 
ney to  Rome  in  397  with  Rufinus,  and  her  last  departure  from  that  city  with 
Melania  the  younger  in  409. 

^'  An  examination  into  the  accusations  of  heresy  brought  against  Rufinus, 
and  consequently  against  the  illustrious  Melania,  may  be  dispensed  with. 
Father  Rosweyde  has  entered  into  them  with  a  violence  which  does  not  s"e'B 
to  have  been  approved  by  the  most  trustworthy  historians. 


IN    THE    WEST.  245 

of  the  year  398,  and  immediately  there  came  to  meet  her, 
with  her  children,  a  crowd  of  Roman  senators  and  nobles, 
who  made  the  Appian  Way  resound  with  tlieir  luxurious  car- 
riages,  their  caparisoned  horses,  and  gilded  chariots.  She 
rode  amongst  them,  mounted  upon  a  sorry  horse,  of  no  more 
value  than  an  ass.'^  and  clothed  with  a  coarse  tunic  of  rushes, 
woven  like  a  mat.  She  added  by  this  manifest  humility  to 
the  great  reputation  which  she  enjoyed  everywhere. 

She  stopped  at  Nola  to  visit  a  saint  who  was  her  st.Pauiinus 
relative  and  emulator.  Paulinus,'^^  born  at  Bordeaux,  <^^^'^- 
counted  among  his  ancestors  a  long  succession  of  •'^5:5-4:31. 
senators ;  he  had  himself  been  consul  under  the  Emperor 
Gratianus  ;  his  wealth  was  immense  ;  he  was  the  friend  of 
the  poet  Ausonius,  and  himself  a  poet;  he  had  married  a  very 
rich  Spaniard,  who  was  the  first  to  bear  the  predestined 
name  of  Theresa.  The  husband  and  wife  had  mutually  ex- 
cited and  drawn  each  other  towards  retirement  and  mortifica- 
tion. Ausonius  endeavored  in  vain  to  retain  his  friend  in 
the  world,  and  to  put  him  in  opposition  to  his  wife.  From 
year  to  year  their  life  became  more  rigid  ;  they  retired  to  a 
little  estate  near  Barcelona ;  there  they  lost  tlieir  only  son. 
Then  Paulinus  lived  with  his  wife  as  with  a  sister,  left  the 
senate  and  the  world,  solemnly  changed  his  dress  in  the 
Church  of  Barcelona,  distributed  all  his  wealth  to  the  poor, 
and  buried  himself  in  a  small  inheritance  which  he  had  re- 
served at  Nola,  in  Campania,  near  the  tomb  of  the  martyr 
Felix,  of  which  he  constituted  himself  the  guardian.  This 
Koman  consul,  who  had  become  the  watchman  of  the  relics 
of  a  martyr,"^  lived  as  poorly  with  his  Theresa  as  the  poorest 
and  most  austere  monks  ;  but  he  continued,  according  to  the 
advice  of  St.  Jerome,  to  cultivate  eloquence  and  poetry,  con- 
secrating them  to  sacred  subjects,  and  also  his  former  friend- 
ship. "  The  last  moment,"  wrote  he  to  Ausonius,  "  which 
shall  free  me  from  this  earth,  shall  not  take  away  the  tender- 
ness I  have  for  thee;  for  this' soul  which  survives  our  de- 
stroyed organs,  and  sustains  itself  by  its  celestial  origin, 
must  needs  preserve  its  affections,  as  it  keeps  its  existence. 

^'^  "  Macro  et  viliore  asellis  burrico  .  .  .  circumflui  senatores  .  .  .  car- 
rncis  nutantibus,  pliaieratis  equis,  auratis  pilentis  et  carpentis  pluribus,  ge- 
mente  Appia  atque  fulgente  .  .  .  Crassam  illam  veluti  spartei  staminia 
tunicam."  —  S.  Paijlin  ,  Epist.  29  (al.  10). 

"  Born  in  353,  consul  in  378,  bishop  of  Nola  in  40D,  died  in  431.  See  the 
charming  passage  in  wliich  Ozanam  depicts  the  life  and  works  of  Paulinus  in 
bis  Civihsation  au  v<=  Siecle,  lesson  xviii. 

''*  lloHKBACHEK,  Uist.  de  V Eglise,  lib.  xxxvii.  p.  334. 

21-^ 


24t)  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

Full  of  life  and  of  memory,  it  can  no  more  forget  than  it  can 
die."  ''^  Many  Christians  joined  him,  and  inhabited  cells  ad- 
joining his,  so  that  they  formed  a  company  of  monks,  subject 
to  a  rule  of  their  own. 

Melania  bestowed  upon  Paulinus  and  Theresa  a  portion  of 
the  wood  of  the  true  cross,  which  she  had  from  the  bishop  of 
Jerusalem,  and  tlien  pursued  her  route  towards  Rome,  where 
she  was  received  with  universal  respect  and  admiration. 
She  remained  there  several  years,  always  occupied  in  ex- 
tending among  her  own  family  and  around  her  the  love  of  mo- 
.  nastic  life,  exhortingall  who  approached  her  to  leave  the  world, 
to  sell  their  goods,  and  follow  her  into  solitude.  She  first 
won  the  husband  of  her  niece,  Apronianus,  a  patrician  of  the 
rank  of  clarissimus,  who  was  still  a  pagan ;  she  converted  him 
not  only  to  the  Chiistian  faith,  but  to  monastic  life,  and  his 
wife  Avita  at  the  same  time.  She  confirmed  her  grand- 
daughter, Melania  the  younger,  already  the  mother  of  two 
children  whom  she  had  lost,  and  still  only  twenty,  in  the 
resolution  of  keeping  continence  with  her  husband. 

The  barbarians,  who  year  by  year  closed  around  Rome 
their  circle  of  fire  and  sword,  and  who  shortly  were  to  scale 
the  sacred  walls,  could  now  be  heard  approaching.  These 
presentiments  of  the  ruin  of  the  empire  seconded  and  com- 
pleted the  work  and  exhortations  of  the  illustrious  nun.  She 
Departure  Urged  her  relatives  and  fellow-citizens  to  throw 
Moiiniiiir  their  wealth  into  the  lap  of  God  and  the  poor,  rather 
and  all  than  leavc  it  a  prey  to  the  rapacity  of  the  barbarians, 
for  the  '  At  last,  in  409,  a  year  before  the  conquest  of  Rome 
desert^        by  Alaric,  all  that  holy  and  noble  tribe  began  their 

*°^-  march  towards  the  desert.  But  in  the  first  place 
the  younger  Melania,  heiress  of  so  many  opulent  lines,  en- 
franchised her  eight  thousand  slaves,  and  distributed  to  the 
churches,  to  the  hospitals,  to  the  monasteries,  and  to  the 
poor,  all  the  vast  domains  which  she  possessed  in  Spain  and 
in  Aquitaine,  in  the  Tarraconaise,  among  the  Gauls ;  she  re- 
served to  herself  those  in  Campania,  Sicily,  and  Africa,  only 
to  serve  for  future  liberalities.  She  then  sent  immense  sums 
even  to  Palestine  and  the  Thebaid  by  the  hands  of  a  Dal- 
matian priest.  It  was  so  much  saved  from  the  enemy,  so 
much  snatched  from  the  claws  of  the  barbarian  lion.^*^  Af- 
terwards they  embarked,     Melania  the   elder,  who  led  thia 

'''  S.  Paulin.,  Carmina.  x.  18. 

"*  "  Ex  ore  leonis  Alarici  eripiens  fidfe  sua."  —  Pallad.,  Hist.  Lausiaca, 


IN   THE    WEST.  2i7 

triumph  of  the  new  faith  at  the  moment  wlien  antique  Rome 
was  falh'ng,  drew  with  her  all  her  descendants,  her  son  Publi- 
cola,  her  daughter  Albina,  her  granddaughter  Mclania  the 
younger,  witli  Pinianus  her  husband,  and  a  multitude  of 
others.  They  went  first  to  Sicily,  and  from  thence  to  Africa, 
where  St.  Augustine  awaited  them. 

Melania  the  elder,  after  having  seen  the  death  of  lier  son, 
and  wept  for  him  as  a  Chi-istian  mother  should  weep,'''  left 
the  rest  of  her  family  to  return  to  her  convent  at  Jerusalem, 
where  she  died  forty  days  after  her  return. 

Melania  the  younger  became  then,  in  a  manner,  the  head 
of  the  monastic  caravan.  From  Carthage,  where  they  had 
landed,  they  came  to  Tagaste,  where  Alypius,  the  celebrated 
friend  of  St.  Augustine,  was  bishop;  and  from  Tagaste  to 
Eippo,  where  Augustine  himself  received  them  with  tender 
and  respectful  cordiality.  The  people  of  that  town,  who 
were  accustomed  to  impose  vocations,  and  who  had  thus  won 
St.  Augustine,  desired  to  seize  the  husband  of  Melania  to 
ordain  him  a  priest  by  force,  in  the  hope  of  winn  ng  thus  to 
their  church  and  their  poor  the  wealth  which  the  husband 
and  wife  distributed  with  profusion.  There  was  a  complete 
riot  on  this  account,  of  which  St.  Augustine  has  left  us  the 
record,  and  which  he  could  not  appease,  although  he  threat- 
ened the  rioters  that  he  would  cease  to  be  their  bishop  if 
they  persisted  in  using  violence  to  the  stranger.  The  mul- 
titude would  only  be  calmed  by  a  promise  that  if  Pinianus 
ever  consented  to  enter  among  the  clergy,  it  should  only  be 
in  the  Church  of  Hippo.''^  Going  back  to  Tagaste,  Melania 
and  Pinianus  founded  two  monasteries,  tlie  one  of  eighty 
monks,  the  other  of  a  hundred  and  thirty  nuns  ;  they  lived 
there  seven  years  in  extreme  poverty.  Melania  gained  her 
living  by  transcribing  manuscripts,  which  she  did  with  equal 
skill  and  rapidity ,'9  while  her  husband  cultivated  a  garden. 
Afterwards  they  went  together  to  Egypt  to  honor  and  succor 
with  their  alms  the  solitaries  of  Nitria  and  its  environs. 
At  last  they  arrived  at  Jerusalem  and  there  separated. 
Pinianus,  the  former  prefect  of  Rome,  pursued  his  occupa- 
tion of  gardener  in  company  with  thirty  other  monks.^** 
Melania,  who  had  not  yet  attained  the  age  of  thirty,  became 

"  "  Taciturno  quidem  luctu,  non  tamen  sicco  a  maternis  lacrymis  dolore." 
—  S.  Padlin.,  ap.  August.,  Epist.  249. 
"  S.  August.,  Epist.  225. 

'•  "  Scribebat  et  celeriter  et  pulclire,  citra  errorem." 
**  Pallad.,  Hist.  Lausiaca,  c.  121. 


248  MONASTIC    PEECURSOKS 

a  recluse  in  a  cell  upon  the  Mount  of  Olives,  where  she  re- 
mained fourteen  years  ;  she  afterwards  built  a  church  and 
monastery  for  ninety  penitents,  upon  one  of  the  sites  whero 
our  Lord  rested  when  bearing  His  cross. 

Tliese  holy  consorts,  in  ending  their  career  ^i  near  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  found  there  the  memory  of  their  grand- 
mother, Melania  the  elder,  with  the  always  warlike  zeal  and 
exalted  fame  of  St.  Jerome.  They  could  bask  in  the  last 
rays  of  that  great  light.  In  the  last  epistle  which  he  wrote 
and  addressed  to  St.  Augustine,  Jerome  speaks  of  them  and 
calls  them  his  children,  his  in  common  with  the  bishop  of 
Hippo.s^ 

It  is  thus  that  this  choir  of  holy  women,  noble  widows,  and 
generous  patrician  ladies,  of  whom  Marcella,  Paula,  and  Me- 
lania are  the  leaders,^^  transmitted  the  line  of  monastic  virtue 
and  traditions  from  St.  Athanasius  to  St.  Augustine,  through 
St.  Jerome.  The  greatest  names  of  the  Church  —  of  the 
East  as  well  as  of  the  West  —  have  thus  a  part  in  the  devel- 
opment of  the  cenobitical  institution.  We  would  fain  linger 
over  them,  and  enjoy  their  glory  at  length  and  in  detail. 
But  we  must  hasten  our  steps,  and  pass  on  to  names  more 
obscure  and  ages  less  known  :  we  shall  find  there  the  gran- 
deur which  is  inalienable  from  truth  and  virtue. 
Opposition  It  would  be  a  serious  mistake  to  suppose  that 
mouastic^^  thcsc  lieroic  women,  during  their  lifetime,  encouu- 
lifea't  tered    everywhere    the    admiration   and    sympathy 

which  Christian  posterity  has  given  them;  or  that 
so  much  self-devotion,  and  so  many  generous  sacrifices, 
could  be  accomplished  without  exciting  a  warm  and  powerful 
opposition  from  all  the  pagan  elements,  still  so  numerous 
and  tenacious,  which  remained  in  Roman  society.  Among 
many  Christians,  the  repugnances  of  our  poor  nature,  always 
infirm  and  alwa^'s  jealous  of  every  pure  and  superior  force, 
were  joined  to  the  persevering  animosit}"  of  pagan  instincts. 
Our  holy  heroines  had  to  be  constantly  in  the  breach,  occu- 
pied in  braving  the  entreaties,  the  importunities,  and  even 

^'  Thoy  went  to  Jerusalem  in  417.  Albina  died  there  in  433,  Pinianus  in 
435,  Melania  the  younger  in  439  or  440.  In  the  last  years  of  her  life  she  un- 
dertook a  journey  to  Constantinople  to  convert  her  uncle  Volusien.  She 
struggled  tliere  against  the  Nestorians,  and  determined  the  Empress  Eudoxia 
to  come  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem. 

'*  "  Sancti  filii  communes  .  .  .  plurimum  vos  salutant."  —  S.  Hieron., 
Epist.  79, 

**  Among  them  we  must  also  point  out  that  Demetrias,  granddaughter  of 
Petronius,  of  the  family  Anicia,  of  whom  we  have  spoken  above. 


IN  THE   WEST.  249 

the  injurious  words  of  their  relatives,  and  of  all  in  the  nobility 
who  were  averse  to  sacrifices  so  great.  The}''  were  often 
reproached  with  robbing  their  children  of  their  patrimony, 
or  with  abandoning  them  at  an  age  when  the  maternal  cares 
were  a  sacred  duty.  But  the  great  examples  of  abnegation, 
poverty,  and  humilit}',  which  they  offered  to  all  classes  of 
their  fellow-citizens,  excited  special  exasperation.  It  was 
not  only,  as  a  historian  says,  "  the  male  and  female  animals 
of  the  senatorial  order "  ^^  who  were  furious  against  these 
superhuman  virtues;  the  popular  masses  also  burst  forth  in 
opposition.  This  was  clearly  apparent  at  the  funeral  of 
Blesilla,  the  eldest  daughter  of  Paula,  in  384,  when  the  Chris- 
tian people  of  Rome  collected  in  the  streets,  crying  aloud, 
"This  young  woman  has  been  killed  by  fasts.  .  .  .  When 
shall  this  detestable  race  of  monks  be  expelled  from  the  city? 
Wh}'  are  they  not  stoned  ?  Why  not  thrown  into  the  Tiber?  " 
Then,  making  maternal  grief  itself  a  weapon  against  all  that 
the  mother  and  daughter  h.ad  most  loved  here  below,  the 
same  accusers  proceeded,  showing  Paula  in  tears,  over- 
whelmed under  the  weight  of  her  affliction:  "Behold,"  said 
they,  "  how  they  have  seduced  this  unhappy  matron:  for  a 
sufficient  proof  how  little  she  desired  to  be  a  monkess,  never 
woman  among  the  heathen  has  wept  thus  for  her  children."  ^^ 

The  same  sentiments  as  those  of  the  plebeians  at  ^^  c^r- 
Rome  were  also  found  at  Carthage,  which  had  then  tiiase. 
become  Roman  and  Christian,  but  was  lost  in  all  the  excesses 
and  refinements  of  corruption.  Salvien  informs  us  that  when 
men  in  cloaks,  pallid,  and  with  shaven  heads,  were  seen  to 
appear  in  the  cities  of  Africa,  and  especially  in  Carthage, 
coming  from  the  monasteries  of  Egypt  or  the  holy  places  of 
Jerusalem,  the  people  scourged  them  with  maledictions,  hoot- 
ings,  and  hisses,^^  and  hunted  them  through  the  streets  like 
pernicious  beasts. 

And  even  when  the  popular  masses  had  ended  by  intheiit- 
yielding  to  the  sway  of  these    great  examples,  a  ^rary  class, 
large  number  of  people  still  continued  to  entertain   feelings 
of  contempt  and  rage  towards  the  monks,  especially  amongst 

^*  "  Spoliabat  filios  et  inter  objurgantes  propinquos."  —  S.  Hiekon.,  Vit. 
S.  Paulcz.  "  Sic  depugnavit  adversus  bestias,  nempe  eos  qui  erant  ordinis 
senatorii,  et  eorum  uxores,  proliibentes  earn  renuntiare  reliquis  suis  asdibus." 

—  Vit.  MelanicB,  in  Hist.  Lausiaca,  c.  118. 

^*  S.  HiERON.,  Epist.  22  (al.  2a),  ad  Paulam. 

®®  '•  Palliatum  et,  pallidum  et  .  .  .  usque  ad  cutem  tonsum.  .  .  .  Impro- 
bissimis  cachinnis  et  detestantibus  videntiuin  sibilis  quasi  taureis  ctedebatur.'' 

—  De  Crubernat.  Dei,  viii. 


250  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

the  literary  class  ;  and  vigorous  traces  of  this  are  to  bo 
The  poet  found  in  the  poems  of  Rutilius  Numatianus.  This 
Kutiiius.  Poitevin  writer  had  long  lived  at  Rome,  He  re« 
turned  into  his  own  country  in  416,  some  years  after  the 
striking  aonversions  v.'hich  the  Melanias,  the  Paulas,  and  the 
Marcelias  had  worked  upon  the  Roman  nobility :  he  has 
described  the  emotions  of  his  voyage  in  a  poem  which  is 
still  in  existence.  Crossing  the  Mediterranean,  he  came  in 
front  of  the  isles  and  rock  which  were  inhabited  by  patri- 
cians lately  converted  :  ''Behold,"  says  he,  "  Capraja  rises 
before  us;  that  isle  is  full  of  wretches,  enemies  of  light;  they 
draw  from  the  Greek  their  name  of  monks,  because  they 
would  live  without  witnesses.  Pear  of  the  evils  of  fortune, 
has  made  them  dread  its  gifts.  They  make  themselves  poor 
in  anticipation,  lest  one  day  they  should  become  so ;  was 
there  ever  seen  folly  so  perverse?"  And  further:  "1  see 
the  Gorgon  raise  herself  among  the  waves  opposite  the  coast 
of  Pisa;  I  detest  these  rocks,  scene  of  a  recent  shipwreck. 
There  one  of  my  fellow-citizens  has  lost  himself,  descending 
alive  into  the  tomb.  He  was  recently  one  of  us;  he  was 
young,  of  great  birth,  rich,  well  married.  But,  impelled  by 
the  furies,  he  has  fled  from  men  and  gods,  and  now,  credu- 
lous exile,  lies  deca^'ing  in  a  foul  retreat.  The  unhappy  one! 
he  expects  to  feed  upon  celestial  good  in  the  midst  of  filth, 
more  cruel  to  himself  than  the  gods  whom  he  offends  should 
have  been.  Is  not  this  sect  more  fatal  than  the  poisons  of 
Circe  ?  Circe  transformed  only  the  bodies,  but  these  trans- 
form the  souls."  ^^^ 

This  last  adherent  of  paganism   saw   clearly :  it  was  the 

®^  "  Processu  pelagi  jam  se  Capraria  tollit. 

Squalet  lucifugis  insula  plena  viris. 
Ipsi  se  raonaclios  Graio  cognouiine  dicunl, 

Quod  soli  nuUo  vivere  teste  volunt. 
Munera  fortunae  metuunt,  dum  danina  verentur. 

Quisquani  sponte  miser,  ne  miser  esse  queat? 
Quaenam  perversi  rabies  tarn  stulta  cerebri, 

Dum  mala  forniides,  nee  bona  posse  pati? 
Sive  suas  repetunt  ex  fato  ergastula  poenas; 

Tristia  seu  nigro  viscera  telle  tument  .  .  . 
Aversor  scopulos,  damni  monumenta  recentis  : 

Perditus  hie  vivo  funere  civis  erat. 
Noster  enira  nuper,  juvenis  majoribus  amplis, 

Nee  censu  interior  conjugiove  minor. 
Impulsus  furiis  lioniines  divosque  reliquit 

Et  turpem  latebram  credulus  exsul  agit  .  .  . 
Nuni  rogo  deterior  Circaiis  secta  venenis? 

Tunc  mutabantur  corpora,  nunc  animi." 

BdtiI/Ius  Numatianus,  lib.  i.  v,  480-515. 


IN    THE    WEST.  251 

souls  which  transformed  themselves.  From  thence  came  the 
irremediable  ruin  of  his  gods,  and  the  victory  of  the  ideas 
and  institutions  which  he  pursued  with  his  impotent  malice. 

Tlie  complaints  and  invectives  of  the  pagan  poets  and 
rhetoricians  came  too  late.  The  monks  who  had  found  apolo- 
gists and  models  in  the  greatest  doctors  of  the  Eastern 
Church —  Athanasius,  Basil,  and  Chrysostom  —  wer^  no  less 
supported  in  the  West,  where  they  could  invoke  the  example 
of  Jerome,  and  where  they  had  won  to  their  cause  the  irresisti- 
ble influence  of  Ambrose  and  of  Augustine. 

Bishop  Ambrose  celebrated  with  love  those  very   g^  j^^_ 
isles  of  the  Mediterranean,  peopled  with  monks,  from  brose  de- 
the  sight  of  which  the  poet  Rutilius  had  turned  with  monks, 
disgust.     "  It  is   there,"  said    he,    "  in    these    isles      340^397. 
thrown  by  God  like  a  collar  of  pearls  upon  the  sea, 
that  those  who  would  escape  from  the  charms  of  dissipation 
iind    refuge :  there   they  fly   from  the    world,  they   live    in 
austere   moderation,  they  escape  the  ambushes  of  this  life. 
The  sea  offers  them  as  it  were  a  veil,  and  a  secret  asylum  to 
their  mortifications.     She  helps  them  to  win  and  defend  per- 
fect continence.     There  ever}  thing  excites  austere  thoughts. 
Nothing  there  disturbs  their  peace  :  all  access  is  closed  to  the 
wild  passions  of  the   world.     The  mysterious   sound  of  the 
waves   mingles   with    the    chant  of  hymns ;    and  while   the 
waters  break  upon  the  shore  of  these  happy  islands  with  a 
gentle  murmur,  the  peaceful  accents  of  the  choir  of  the  elect 
ascend  towards  heaven  from  their  bosom."  ^^ 

Ambrose  was  that  great  man,  eloquent  and  courageous,  to 
whose  cradle,  as  to  Plato's,  came  a  hive  of  bees,  to  leave  upon 
the  lips  of  the  predestined  infant  the  presage  of  a  persuasive 
and  irresistible  eloquence.  He  had  been  the  victorious  ad- 
vocate of  Christianity  against  the  plaintive  pleading  of 
Symmachus  in  favoi"  of  the  altar  of  Victory,  the  last  effort 
of  official  paganism.  He  had  defended  the  rights  of  ortho- 
doxy against  the  violence  of  Justina  the  Arian  empress,  and 
those  of  humanity  and  justice  against  the  Emperor  Theo- 
dosius,  bathed  in  the  blood  of  Thessalonica.  Such  a  pontiff 
could  not  ignore  the  vital  importance  of  the  monastic  institu- 
tion, to  the  faith  of  which  he  was  so  intrepid  and  eloquent  a 
champion.     Accordingly  we  find  he  supported  at  the  gates 

**•*  "Quid  cnunierem  insulas,  quas  velut  monilia  plerumque  praetexit,  .  .  . 
lit  cum  undaruni  leniter  alluentiuni  sono  certent  cantus  psallenlium,  plau- 
dant  insulae  trunquillo  sanctorum  choro,  hyninis  sanctorum  personent?"  — 
S.  Ambros.,  Hexameron,  iii.  6. 


252  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

of  his  episcopal  city  a  monastery  full  of  excellent  raonks.^^ 
He  was  unwilling  that  converts  should  be  frightened  by  re- 
quirements above  their  strength.  "  Let  us,"  said  he  ''  leave 
those  to  flutter  like  sparrows  who  cannot  soar  like  eagles."^ 
But  he  seemed  to  be  especially  interested  in  the  religious 
vocation  of  women.  At  the  request  of  his  sister  Marcellina, 
His  trea-  who  was  a  nuu  in  Rome,  he  collected  in  three  books, 
nionastic'^  entitled  The  Virgins,  the  sermons  which  he  had 
virginity,  delivered  in  honor  of  monastic  virginity.  Nothing 
could  be  more  eloquent  than  the  opening  of  the  third  book, 
where  Ambrose,  carried  back  by  memory  to  the  day  when 
this  dear  sister  took  the  veil  at  Rome,  in  the  church  of  the 
Apostles,  at  Christmas,  hears  and  repeats  the  exhortation  of 
the  pope  Libei'ius  to  the  young  novice.  He  did  not  fail  to 
point  out  the  dangers  with  which  conventual  life  was  sur- 
rounded in  the  splendor  of  Roman  patrician  society  ;  and  yet 
his  words  were  so  persuasive  that  the  Milanese  ladies  shut 
lip  their  daughters,  lest,  by  hearing  his  sermons,  they  should 
be  led  too  early  into  monastic  life.  He  afterwards  wrote  a 
treatise  On  Virginity,  which  drew  upon  him  the  reproach  of 
having  denied  the  sanctity  of  marriage,  and  of  preaching- 
doctrines  which,  if  put  in  practice,  would  condemn  the  human 
race  to  extinction.  To  these  accusations,  which  have  been 
renewed  from  age  to  age,  the  bishop  of  Milan  answered,  as 
the  defenders  of  Christian  sacrifice  have  always  responded  — 
"  How  ! "  said  he,  ''  these  virgins  shall  be  free  to  choose  a 
husband,  and  they  shall  not  have  the  liberty  of  fixing  their 
choice  upon  a  God  !  .  .  .  It  is  complained  that  the  human  race 
will  fail.  I  ask,  who  has  ever  sought  a  wife  without  finding 
one  ?  The  number  of  men  is  greater  in  those  places  where 
virginity  is  most  esteemed.  Inform  yourselves  how  many 
virgins  the  Church  of  Alexandria  and  those  of  Africa  and  the 
East  are  accustomed  to  consecrate  to  God  every  year.  There 
are  more  of  them  than  there  are  men  in  Milan."  ^^ 

Elsewhere,  in  that  triumphant  response  to  Symmachus, 
which  breathes  the  ardor  and  force  of  a  belief  victorious  by 
the  energy  of  virtue  alone,  when  he  has  struck  dumb  the 
pompous  rhetoric  of  these  sons  of  the  persecutors,  who  de- 
manded the  re-establishment  of  the  altar  of  Victory  in  the 

^  "  Erat  monasteriura  plenum  bonis  fratribus  extra  urbis  moenia,  Ambro- 
sio  nutritore."  —  S.  August.,  Conf.,  viii.  6. 

^^  '•  Qui  non  potest  volitare  ut  aquila,  volitet  ut  passer."  —  De  Fuga  Sec- 
uli,  c  5. 

8'  De  Virginitate,  c  5,  6,  7. 


IN    THE    WEST.  253 

midst  of  the  «enate,  and  who  claimed  the  right  of  making 
bequests  in  favor  of  the  vestals,  he  contrasts  the  sight  already 
presented  by  the  Christian  monasteries  with  that  of  these 
vestals,  who,  despite  the  honors  still  showered  upon  them, 
and  the  easy  devotion  of  a  temporary  vow,  were  so  few  in 
number.  "  You  can  bring  together  only  seven,  and  that  with 
difficulty  ;  yes,  despite  tlie  bandbeaux,  the  diadems,  and  the 
purple  with  which  you  adorn  them,  notwithstanding  the 
pompous  litters,  the  numerous  escort  of  servants,  the  priv- 
ileges and  immense  profits  which  you  offer  them,  these  are 
all  you  can  enroll  in  the  service  of  chastity.  But  raise  your 
eyes  and  your  souls.  See  elsewhere  this  nation  of  innocents, 
this  multitude  of  pure  souls,  this  assembly  of  virgins ;  their 
heads  are  not  ornamented  by  jewelled  bands,  they  have  but 
a  coarse  veil  ennobled  by  its  use.  They  do  not  seek,  they 
cast  aside  everything  which  heightens  beauty  ;  they  have 
neither  purple  nor  luxury,  no  privileges,  no  profit,  no  del- 
icacies, nothing,  in  short,  but  duties  which  reanimate  their 
virtues."  ^^ 

Ambrose,  whose  renown  reached  even  the  Barbarians, 
converting  the  queen  of  the  Marcoraans,  and  drawing  from 
the  depths  of  Mauritania  virgins  who  came  to  Milan  to  receive 
the  veil  from  his  hands,^-^  was  considered  the  principal  doctor 
of  the  Latin  Church  till  Augustine  appeared. 

It  was  at  Milan,  and  in  385,  the   same  year  in  st.  Augus- 

which  St.  Jerome  left  Rome  for  the  second  and  last  *'°^: 

time,  to  plunge  again  into  the  solitude  of  Bethle-      354-430, 
hem,  that  the  inspired  language  of  Ambrose,  and  the  sight 
of  this  life  entirely  devoted  to  the  service  of  God  and  our 

^^  "  Vix  septem  vestales  capiuntur  puellae.  Est  totus  numerus  .  .  .  vide- 
ant  plebem  pudoris,  populum  integritatis,  concilium  virginitatis.  Non  vittae 
capiti  decus,  sed  ignobiie  velanien."  —  Epist.  CI.  i.  18,  t.  ii.  p.  836,  ed.  Bened. 
The  translation  is  partly  by  M.  Villemain. 

®^  The  veil  was  already  the  distinctive  mark  of  virgins  consecrated  to  God. 
St.  Ambrose  explains  at  length  the  meaning  of  that  custom.  —  De  Virginit., 
lib.  iii.  c.  1.  St.  Jerome  says  expressly  that,  in  the  monasteries  of  Syria  and 
Egypt,  all  who  dedicated  themselves  to  God  had  their  hair  cut  by  the  mothers 
of  the  monasteries,  and  covered  their  beads  with  a  black  veil.  —  Letters,  vol. 
V.  pp.  169,  385,  ed.  Collombet.  St.  Augustine,  in  his  rule  for  nuns,  forbids 
them  to  wear  veils  so  flowing  that  their  hair  or  head-dress  might  be  seen. 
However,  the  veil  was  regarded  by  many  of  the  Fathers  as  obligatory  for  all 
maidens,  and  even  for  wives  who  respected  themselves.  Tertullian,  address- 
ing the  Christian  women  of  his  time  on  this  subject,  quotes  the  example  of 
the  pagan  women  of  Arabia,  who,  like  the  Orientals  of  our  days,  concealed 
their  faces,  with  the  exception  of  one  eye.  *'  Indicabunt  vos  Arabise  feminae 
ethnicae,  quae  non  caput  sed  faciera  quoque  ita  totam  tegunt,  ut  uno  oculo  lib- 
erato,  contentas  sint  dimidiam  frui  lucem,  quam  totam  faciem  prostituere." 
—  Z>e  Virgin.  Veland.,  c.  16. 

VOL.  I.  22 


254  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

neighbor,  began  to  open  the  eyes  of  the  yonng  Augustine. 
It  was  there,  a  year  later,  that  a  revelation  of  what  wag 
passing  in  souls  drawn  by  the  spirit  of  God  towards  monastic 
life,  burst  upon  him  with  a  light  which  he  no  longer  desired 
to  resist.  At  nineteen  he  had  lieen  filled  with  contempt  foi 
the  baseness  of  the  contemporary  world,  and  inspired  by  a 
noble  enthusiasm  for  the  good  and  the  be  lutiful,  for  intel- 
lectual struggles,  and  the  attainment  of  wisdom,  by  reading 
the  Hortensius  of  Cicero.  But  a  day  came  in  which  he 
learned  that  there  is  something  greater  than  knowledge,  and 
a  purer  enthusiasm  than  that  of  eloquence  or  philosophy. 
What  the  genius  of  Cicero  had  done  for  his  mind,  the  life  of 
Anthony,  related  by  Athanasius,  did  for  his  soul.  We  have 
already  mentioned  that  Athanasius  had  written  a  Life  of  St. 
Anthony,  in  which  he  summed  up  the  marvels  of  the  The- 
baid,  and  which  spread  through  all  the  West,  like  the  glory 
of  the  illustrious  fugitive  who  was  its  author.  Let  us  leave 
Augustine  himself  to  relate  how  it  reached  as  far  as  Treves, 
originating  in  the  very  heart  of  the  imperial  court  monastic 
vocations,  the  narratives  of  which  were  destined  to  produce 
other  conquests  of  grace.  This  immortal  page  of  the  Con- 
fessions belongs  essentially  to  monastic  history :  it  shows, 
by  the  testimony  of  the  greatest  man  of  the  time,  that  action 
of  the  Thebaid  upon  the  West,  of  which  the  hoi}'  patriarch 
of  Alexandria,  exiled  in  Gaul  and  Italv.,  had  been  the  provi- 
dential instrument.  It  offers,  besides,  the  most  eloquent  and 
exact  picture  ever  traced  of  those  struggles  of  the  soul,  from 
which  have  proceeded,  both  before  and  after  Augustine,  all 
those  conversions  which  have  filled  monasteries  and  heaven. 
Augustine  was  at  Milan,  where  he  lectured  on  eloquence 
with  his  friend  Alypius,  when  he  received  a  visit  from  one 
of  his  African  countrymen,  Potitianus,  one  of  the  first  military 
officers  of  the  palace,  and  already  a  Christian.  "  We  seated 
ourselves,"  says  Augustine,  "  to  talk,  when  he  happened  to 
notice  a  book  which  lay  upon  a  card-table  before   us.     lie 

opened  it ;  it  was  the  Apostle  Paul.  ...  I  con- 
o/st?A^^-  fessed  to  him  that  reading  this  was  my  principal 
theorKna"  stud3^  He  was  then  led  by  the  conversation  to 
of  his  con-    speak  to  us  of  Anthony,  the  monk  of  Egypt,  whose 

name,  so  glorious  among  Thy  servants,  was  unknown 
to  us.  He  perceived  this,  and  confined  himself  to  that  sub- 
ject ;  he  revealed  this  great  man  to  our  ignorance,  which 
astonished  him  exceedingly.  We  were  in  a  stupor  of  admi- 
ration to  hear  of  these  unquestionable  marvels,  which  were 


IN    THE   WEST.  255 

80  recent,  almost  contemporary,  worked  in  the  true  faith,  in 
the  Catholic  Church.  And  we  were  mutually  surprised,  we 
to  learn,  and  he  to  teach  us,  these  extraordinary  facts.  And 
from  thence  his  discourse  flowed  upon  the  holy  flocks  of  the 
monasteries,  and  the  perfumes  of  virtue  which  exhaled  from 
them  towards  their  Lord,  over  those  fertile  wastes  of  the 
desert,  of  which  we  knew  nothing.  And  even  at  Milan,  out- 
side the  walls,  was  a  cloister  full  of  good  brothers,  trained 
under  the  wing  of  Ambrose,  and  we  were  ignorant  of  it. 

"  He  continued  to  speak,  and  we  listened  in  silence  ;  and 
lie  told  us  how  one  day,  at  Treves,  when  the  emperor  was 
spending  the  afternoon  at  the  spectacles  of  the  circus,  he  and 
three  of  his  companions  went  to  walk  in  the  gardens  close  by 
the  walls  of  the  town  ;  and  as  they  walked  two-and  two,  one 
with  him,  and  the  two  otiiers  together,  they  separated.  The 
two  latter  entered  a  cabin  on  their  way,  where  lived  some  of 
these  voluntary  poor  who  are  Thy  servants  —  these  poor  in 
spirit  who  shall  inherit  the  kingdom  of  heaven — and  there 
they  found  a  manuscript  of  the  life  of  Anthony,  One  of  them 
began  to  read  it ;  he  admired  it,  his  heart  burned,  and  as  he 
read  the  thought  rose  of  embracing  such  a  life,  and  leaving 
the  warfare  of  the  age  to  serve  Thee  :  they  were  both  in  the 
service  of  the  emperor.  Suddenly  filled  with  a  divine  love 
and  a  holy  shame,  he  grew  angry  against  himself,  and  casting 
his  eyes  on  his  friend,  *  Tell  me,  1  pray  thee,  whither  all  our 
labors  tend?  What  do  we  seek?  For  whom  do  we  carry 
arms?  What  can  be  our  greatest  hope  in  the  palace  but  to 
be  friends  of  the  emperor  ?  And  how  frail  is  that  fortune  ! 
what  perils  !  and  how  many  perils  before  reaching  the 
greatest  peril  !  Besides,  when  shall  that  be  attained  ?  But. 
if  I  desire  to  be  a  friend  of  God,  I  am  so,  and  instantly.' 

"  He  spoke  thus,  all  shaken  by  the  birth  of  his  new  life, 
and  then,  his  eyes  returning  to  the  holy  pages,  he  read :  his 
heart  changed  to  thy  sight,  and  his  mincl  freed  itself  from  the 
world,  as  was  soon  after  apparent.  He  read,  and  the  waves 
of  his  soul  flowed  trembling ;  he  saw  and  overcame,  and  he 
was  already  Thine,  when  he  said  from  his  soul,  '  It  is  done,  I 
break  with  all  our  hope  ;  I  will  serve  God,  and  now,  in  this 
place,  I  begin  the  work.  If  thou  wilt  not  follow  me,  deter 
me  not.'  The  other  answered  that  he  also  would  win  hia 
share  of  the  glory  and  spoil.  And  both,  already  Thy  servants, 
built  the  tower  which  is  raised  with  that  which  is  losi  by 
following  Thee.  i 

"  Potitianus  and  his  companion,  after  having  walked  iu  an* 


256  MONASTIC    PKErURSORS      ^ 

other  part  of  the  garden,  reached  this  retreat,  seeking  them, 
and  warned  them  that  it  was  time  to  return,  because  the 
day  felL  But  they,  declaring  their  design,  how  this  resolu- 
tion had  come  to  them  and  established  itself  in  their  minds, 
entreated  their  friends  not  to  oppose  their  determination,  if 
they  refused  to  share  it.  The  latter,  not  feeling  any  change 
of  heart,  nevertheless  wept  over  themselves,  said  Potitianus. 
They  piously  congratulated  their  comrades,  recommending 
themselves  to  their  prayers.  Then  they  returned  to  the  pal- 
ace, their  hearts  still  drawn  towards  the  earth ;  and  the 
others,  their  hearts  still  aspiring  towards  heaven,  remained 
in  the  cabin.  Both  had  betrothed  brides,  who,  on  hearing 
this,  consecrated  to  Thee  their  virginity." 

Augustine  continues :  one  never  wearies  of  quoting  him. 
"  I  devoured  myself  inwardly  :  I  was  penetrated  with  confu- 
sion and  shame  ^vhile  Potitianus  spoke.  He  went  away.  And 
then  what  did  I  not  say  to  myself?  In  that  violent  disturb- 
ance of  the  inner  world,  where  I  pursued  my  soul  to  the  most 
secret  stronghold  of  my  heart,  with  a  face,  troubled  like  my 
spirit,  I  seized  Alypius,  and  cried  out,  '  What  then  are  we 
doing  ?  how  is  this  ?  what  hast  thou  been  hearing  ?  These 
ignorant  men  rise  ;  they  take  heaven  by  force  ;  and  we,  with 
our  heartless  sciences,  behold  us  wallowing  in  the  flesh  and 
in  our  blood  !  Is  it  shameful  to  follow  them,  and  are  we  not 
rather  disgraced  by  not  following  them?'  He  was  silent  in 
surprise,  and  looked  at  me,  for  ray  accent  was  changed ;  and 
my  forehead,  my  cheeks,  my  eyes,  the  color  of  my  face,  dis- 
closed my  mind  much  more  than  the  words  that  escaped  me. 
Our  house  had  a  little  garden.  .  .  .  The  tempest  of  my  heart 
led  me  there.  .  .  .  Alypius  followed  me  step  by  step ;  for  I 
was  alone  even  in  his  presence.  We  seated  ourselves  as  far 
off  as  possible  from  the  house.  I  trembled  in  ray  soul,  and 
excited  myself  into  the  most  violent  indignation  that  I  still 
could  not  yield  myself  to  Thy  will,  to  Thy  alliance,  0  my 
God,  to  which  all  the  powers  of  my  soul  urged  me,  crying: 
Courage  I  .  .  .  But  these  vanities  of  vanities,  my  ancient 
mistresses,  shook  me  by  my  robe  of  flesh,  and  whispered  to 
me,  '  Dost  thou  send  us  away  ?  What  !  from  this  moment 
shall  we  be  no  more  with  thee  forever  ?  And  from  this  mo- 
ment, this  very  moment,  sliall  this  be  no  longer  permitted  to 
thee,  and  forever?'  .  .  .  They  attacked  me  no  more  in  front, 
quarrelsome  and  bold,  but  by  timid  whisperings  murmured 
over  my  shoulder,  by  furtive  attacks,  the}^  solicited  a  glance. 
.  .  .  The  violence  of  habit  said  to  me,  Canst  thou  live  with- 
out them?     But  already  even  tliis  ^^puku  with  a  languishing 


IN    THE    WEST.  257 

voice.  For  on  the  side  to  which  I  turned  my  face,  and  wliich 
1  feared  to  pass,  the  chaste  majesty  of  continence  disclosed 
herself.  .  .  .  She  stretched  out  to  receive  and  embrace  me, 
her  hands  full  of  g;ood  examples  ;  children,  yonng  girls,  youth 
in  abundance,  all  ages,  venerable  widows,  women  grown  old 
in  virginity,  and  continence  was  not  barren  in  these  holy 
souls:  she' produced  generations  of  celestial  joys,  which  she 
owed,  O  Lord  !  to  Thy  conjugal  love.  And  she  seemed  to 
say  to  rae,  with  a  sweet  and  encouraging  irony  :  What !  canst 
not  thou  do  a  thing  which  is  possible  to  these  children,  to 
these  women  ? 

"Then  a  frightful  storm  arose  in  my  heart,  charged  with  a 
rain  of  tears.  To  give  them  entire  vent,  I  rose  and  with- 
drew from  Alypius.  I  threw  myself  on  the  ground  under  a 
fig  tree,  and  gave  full  course  to  my  tears,  .  .  .  and  I  ad- 
dressed Thee,  not  in  these  terms,  but  with  this  meaning : 
'  0  Lord,  how  long  wilt  Thou  be  angry  against  me  ?  Re- 
member not  my  past  iniquities.'  For  I  felt  that  they  held 
me  still.  And  1  allowed  these  pitiful  words  to  escape  me, 
'When?  what  day  ?  to-morrow?  after  to-morrow  ?  wherefore 
not  at  this  instant?  why  should  I  not  make  an  end  at  once 
with  my  shame?  '  And  all  at  once  I  heard  proceeding  from 
a  neighboring  house  like  the  voice  of  a  child  or  of  a  young 
girl,  which  sang  and  repeated  these  words :  '  Take,  read  ! 
take,  read  ! '  I  stayed  my  tears,  and  saw  in  that  a  divine 
command  to  open  the  book  of  the  Apostle,  and  to  read  the 
first  chapter  that  came.  I  knew  that  Anthony,  coming  in 
one  day  while  the  Gospel  was  being  read,  had  taken  as  ad- 
dressed to  himself,  these  words :  '  Go,  sell  that  which  thou 
hast  and  give  to  the  poor,  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in 
heaven  ;  and  come,  follow  me ; '  and  that  such  an  oracle  had 
immediately  converted  him  to  Thee.  I  returned  quickly  to 
the  place  where  Alypius  was  seated;  for  on  rising  1  had  left 
the  book  of  the  Apostle.  I'  took  it,  opened  it,  and  read  in 
silence  the  first  chapter  on  which  I  cast  my  eyes.  *  Let  us 
walk  honestly,  as  in  the  day  ;  not  in  rioting  and  drunkenness, 
not  in  chambering  and  wantonness,  not  in  strife  and  envying. 
But  put  ye  on  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  make  not  provision  for 
the  flesh,  to  fulfil  the  lusts  thereof '  I  would  not,  1  had  no 
cccasion  to  read  further.  Sc  ircely  had  I  completed  these 
lines,  when,  as  if  a  light  of  assurance  had  spread  over  my 
soul,  the  darkness  of  doubt  disappeared."  ^* 

^*  S.  AuGUSTiN,  Confessions,  liv.  viii.  o.  G.  to  12,  from  the  translation  jf 
M.  Louis  Moreau,  with  some  improvements  borrowed  from  M.  Villemain. 

22* 


258  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

The  remainder  of  the  tale,  and  how  the  immortal  son  of 
Monica  became  a  Christian,  then  a  priest,  then  a  bishop,  and 
in  short  the  greatest  doctor  of  his  times,  and,  perhaps,  of  all 
ages,  is  well  known. 

Monastic  ^"*  ^^  ^^  "*^^   Sufficiently  known,   that  from   his 

life  of  St.      return   to  Africa,  if  he  was  not,  properly  speaking, 

Augustine.  la-i         ti  t  'rr        -^ ,     '^       „       o' 

a  monK,"^^  lie  lived  according  to  the  rules  oi  mo- 
nastic life. 

When  only  a  priest,  he  formed  at  Hippo  a  monastery, 
where  he  lived  in  evangelical  poverty.^  On  his  promotion 
to  the  episcopate,  being  no  less  desirous  to  continue  the  life 
in  common  with  the  servants  of  God  which  he  had  led  since 
his  conversion,  he  founded  a  second  community  composed 
of  the  clergy  of  his  episcopal  see,^'  in  the  midst  of  which  he 
ended  his  career,  and  which  became  a  nursery  of  bishops. 
When  accused  b}'  the  Donatist  Petilian  of  having  introduced 
a  novelty  into  the  Church  by  inventing  monastic  life,  he  an- 
swered that  if  the  name  of  monastery  is  new,  the  manner  of 
life  followed  by  the  monks,  founded  upon  the  example  of  the 
apostles  and  first  Christians,  is  as  ancient  as  the  Church.^^ 

The  monastic  institution,  then,  can  claim  the  glory  of  him 
who  has  been  declared  the  greatest  and  most  celebrated  of 
theologians,^^  the  father  and  master  of  all  preachers  of  the 
Holy  Gospel,^*^*^  and  who  takes  his  place  between  Plato  and 
Bossuet,  between  Cicero  and  St.  Thomas  d'Aquinas,  in  the 
first  rank  of  those  rare  minds  who  soar  over  time.  This  man, 
great  in  thought  as  in  faith,  in  genius  as  in  virtue,  and  born 
to  exercise  over  his  own  time  and  all  times  the  most  legiti- 
mate sway,  received  his  final  training  from  the  exercises  and 

**  The  question  whether  Augustine  was  or  was  not  a  monk,  has  been  long 
and  very  unpiofitably  debated.  He  had  evidently  the  same  right  to  the  name 
as  St.  Basil,  St.  Jerome,  St.  John  Chrysostom,  and  all  the  other  Fathers 
whose  condition  is  not  disputed.  Thomassin  (part  I.,  lib.  iii.  c.  iii.  9)  main- 
tains that  Augustine  was  never  a  monk,  but  only  the  founder  of  a  congrega- 
tion of  clerks,  bound  by  a  vow  of  continence  and  charity.  It  is  not  easy  to 
perceive  the  difference,  looking  at  the  period  in  which  the  saint  lived,  prior 
to  much  of  the  more  recent  and  precise  regulation  of  monastic  character. 
On  the  other  side,  M.  Collombet  points  out  a  tract  of  Ferrand,  parliamentary 
advocate,  entitled  Discours  oil  Von  fait  voir  que  St.  Augustin  a  ete  Moine. 
Paris,  1689. 

"^  "  Quia  hoc  disponebam  in  monasterio  esse  cum  fratribus,  .  .  .  coppi 
bom  propositi  fratres  coUigere,  compares  meos,  nihil  habentes,  sicut  nihil  ha- 
bebam,  et  imitantes  me."  —  Sermo  355,  ed.  Gaunie,  vol.  ii. 

"'  "  Et  ideo  volui  habere  in  ista  domo  episcopii  mecum  monasteriuui  cleri- 
corum."  —  Ibid. 

"^  Contra  Liit.  Pet.,  lib.  iii.  c.  40. 

®'  BosscET,  Letter  of  October  1693. 

"'"  The  same,  Sermon  for  the  Ceremony  of  Taking  the  Vows. 


IN    THE    WEST.  259 

austerities  of  cloistral  life.  Doubtless  all  is  not  perfect  in 
the  remains  he  has  left  to  us :  the  subtilit}',  obscurity,  and 
bad  taste  of  an  age  of  literary  decay,  are  to  be  found  there. 
But  who  has  ever  excelled  him  in  the  extent,  the  variety,  and 
inexhaustible  fertility  of  his  labors,  the  profound  sensibility 
and  charming  candor  of  his  soul,  the  ardent  curiosity,  the 
elevation  and  expansion  of  his  mind?  Two  great  produc- 
tions stand  forth  from  the  mass  of  his  innumerable  works, 
and  will  last  as  long  as  Catholic  truth  :  the  Confessions,  in 
which  repentance  and  humility  have  involuntarily  clothed 
themselv^es  in  the  sublime  robes  of  genius,  and  which  have 
made  the  inner  life  of  Augustine  the  patrimony  of  all  Chris- 
tians ;  and  the  City  of  God,  which  is  at  once  a  triumphant 
defence  of  Christianity,  and  the  first  essa}'  at  the  true  phi- 
losophy of  history,  which  Bossuet  alone  was  destined  to 
surpass.  His  life,  consumed  and  devoured  by  an  inextin- 
guishable thirst  for  goodness,  is  but  a  long  combat,  first 
against  the  learned  follies  and  shameful  vices  of  the  Mani- 
cheans  ;  then  against  the  culpable  exaggerations  of  the  Dona- 
tists,  who  pushed  their  sanguinary  rigorism  the  length  of 
schism  rather  than  submit  to  the  wise  indulgence  of  Rome  ; 
again  in  opposition  to  the  Pelagians,  who  claimed  for  human 
liberty  the  right  of  doing  without  God ;  finally  and  always, 
against  the  remnants  of  paganism,  which  struggled  in  Africa 
with  all  the  old  obstinacy  of  Carthage  against  the  new  and 
victorious  religion  of  Rome.  He  died  at  seventy- 
six,  upon  the  walls  of  his  episcopal  city,  besieged 
by  the  Vandals,  a  living  image  of  that  Church  which  rose 
between  the  Roman  empire  and  the  barbarian  world  to  pro- 
tect the  ruin  and  purify  the  conquest. 

The  ardor  of  controversy  was  always  tempered  Hjg^pner- 
in  this  holy  soul  b}' tender  charity.  "  Slay  error,"  oustoiera- 
he  Kaid,  "  but  always  love  the  man  who  errs."  ^^^ 
Let  us  also  quote  this  passage  against  the  Manicheans,  which 
is  worthy  of  being  reckoned  among  the  noblest  effusions  of 
Catholic  faith,  and  of  which  those  forgetful  neophytes  who 
constitute  themselves  the  avengers  of  truth  should  be  per- 
petually reminded:  — 

"  Let  those  persecute  you,  who  know  not  with  what  labor 
the  truth  is  found,  nor  how  difficult  it  is  to  avoid  error. 
Let  those  persecute  who  do  not  know  how  rare  and  hard  it 
ia  to  vanquish,  even  with  all  the  serenity  of  a  pious  soul,  the 

""  "  Interficite  errores,  diligite  homines." 


260  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

attractions  of  the  flesh  :  who  do  not  know  what  efforts  are 
necessary  to  heal  the  eye  of  the  inner  man,  that  he  may  look 
at  his  sun.  .  .  .  Let  those  persecute  you  who  are  ignorant 
by  what  sighs  and  groans  a  knowledge  of  God  is  attained, 
and  how  imperfect  it  is  even  then.  In  fine,  let  those  perse, 
cute  who  have  never  yielded  to  the  error  in  which  they  see 
you  involved.  As  for  me  who,  long  and  cruelly  tossed  to 
and  fro,  have  at  last  seen  the  pure  truth,  ...  me  who,  to 
dissipate  the  darkness  of  my  mind,  have  been  so  slow  to  sub- 
mit to  the  merciful  physician  who  called  and  caressed  me; 
me  who  have  wept  so  long  that  God  might  deign  to  reveal 
himself  to  my  soul ;  me  who  of  old  sought  with  eagerness, 
listened  with  attention,  believed  with  rashness,  who  have  en- 
deavored to  persuade  others,  and  to  defend  with  obstinacy 
those  dreams  in  which  you  are  held  enchained  by  habit ;  as 
for  me,  I  can  be  severe  upon  you  in  nothing,  but  ought  to 
bear  with  you  now  as  I  bore  with  myself  at  a  former  time,^*^^ 
and  treat  you  with  tlie  same  patience  which  my  neighbor 
showed  towards  me,  when,  furious  and  blind,  I  struggled  in 
your  error." 

At  a  later  period,  it  is  true,  he  supposed  he  had  been  mis- 
taken in  refusing  to  employ  any  other  means  than  those  of 
persuasion  against  the  heretics.i*'^  He  asked  or  accepted 
tiie  aid  of  the  sword  of  the  Caesars,  still  red  with  the  blood 
of  Christians  sacrificed  to  false  gods,  and  of  orthodox  believers 
immolated  to  Arianism.  But  this  was  always  accompanied 
by  a  protest  against  the  infliction  of  capital  punishment,  or 
any  other  cruel  penalt}'',  upon  the  votaries  of  error.  He 
found  these  incompatible  with  Catholic  gentleness ;  and  en- 
treated the  imperial  clemency  not  to  stain  the  memorial  of 
the  agonies  of  the  servants  of  God,  ever  glorified  in  the 
Church,  with  the  blood  of  an  enemy. ^^     Moreover,  between 

102  n  jjj;  jjj  ^.Qj,  ggeviant  qui  nesciunt  cum  quo  labore  verum  inveniatur,  .  .  . 
Ego  autem,  qui  diu  multunique  jactatus  tandem  respicere  potui  .  .  .  saevire 
in  vos  omnino  non  possum,"  &c.  —  Contra  Epistolam  Manichai,  e.  2  and  3, 
vol.  viii.  p.  267,  ed.  Gaumi'.  Let  us  add  to  this  adniiraWe  passage  a  word  from 
the  most  ek)quent  monk  of  our  own  diys  :  —  "  The  converted  man  who  has 
no  pity,  is,  in  my  eyes,  a  vik'  creature.  He  is  the  centurion  who,  instead  of 
beating  liis  breast  on  recognizing  the  Christ,  becomes  executioner."  —  Fatheb 
Lacordaire,  Lettre  du  14  Septembre  I8o3. 

'"^   Epist.  93  and  185.  vol.  ii.  pp.  343  and  965. 

104  >.  Poena  sane  illoruin,  quamvis  de  tantis  sceleribus  confessorum,  rogo  te 
ut  prater  supplicium  mortis  sit,  et  propter  conscientiam  nostram  et  propter 
cailiolicam  mansuetudinem  commendandaTn  .  .  .  ne  passiones  servoruni 
Dei,  quae  debent  esse  in  Ecciesias  gloriosae,  inimicorum  sanguine  dehonesten- 
tMv"  —  Epist.  139,  vol.  ii.  p.  625. 


IN    THE    WEST.  261 

these  two  opinions  we  are  free  to  choose,  for  imitation  and 
admiration,  that  which  is  most  completely  in  accordance  with 
his  genius  and  his  heart,  as  with  the  true  glory  and  strength 
of  the  Church. 

But  we  cannot  here  expatiate  upon  St.  Augustine.  We 
must  return  to  that  which  concerns  exclusively  his  connec- 
tion with  the  monastic  order.  He  gave  it  first  of  all  his  ex- 
ample, by  living,  as  has  been  seen,  from  the  time  of  his 
conversion,  as  a  cenobite  with  other  cenolntes,  and  in  imita- 
tion of  the  monks  whose  customs  he  had  studied  at  Rome.^"^ 
He  was  especially  careful  to  secure  the  strict  observance  of 
monastic  poverty  by  himself  and  the  brethren  of  his  episcopal 
monastery.  This  law  of  personal  disinterestedness  based 
upon  a  community  of  goods,  was  an  urgent  necessity  in  such 
a  country  as  Africa,  where  the  thirst  for  gold  and  luxury  was 
universal,  and  where  friends  and  enemies  watched  with  a 
jealous  eye  the  progress  of  clerical  wealth.  Augustine  took, 
therefore,  great  pains  ,in  rendering  account  to  his  people  of 
the  employment  of  the  modest  patrimony  on  which  his  com- 
munity was  supported,  and  of  his  unceasing  refusal  of  dona- 
tions and  legacies  to  augment  it,  when  their  source  did  not 
appear  to  him  completely  pure.  ''  Let  him,"  said  he,  "  who 
would  disinherit  his  son  to  endow  the  Ciiurch,  seek  whom  he 
will  to  accept  his  bequest ;  it  shall  not  be  Augustine.  Still 
more,  if  God  pleases,  no  man  shall  accept  it." 

Such  an  example,  seconded  by  such  a  genius.  Rule  of  st. 
could  not  remain  barren:  and  Augustine  is  justly  Augusime. 
regarded  as  having  introduced  the  monastic  order  for  both 
sexes  into  the  Church  of  Africa,  in  the  midst  of  that  incred- 
ible corruption  which  surpassed  that  of  all  the  rest  of  the 
Avorld,  and  of  which  Salvian  has  left  us  too  faithful  a  pic- 
ture.^"^  Not  only  did  numerous  monasteries  multiply  upon 
African  soil,  according  to  the  wish  manifested  by  Angus- 
tine,!*^^  on  lands  and  g'ardens  given  up  for  that  purpose  by 
the  great  proprietors  of  the  country;  but  the  secular  clergy 
themselves  seem  to  have  imitated,  in  many  quarters,  the 
model  offered  to  them  by  the  bishop  of  Hippo  and  the  breth- 
ren who  lived  under  his  roof,  and  also  by  that  of  his  friend 
Alypius,  now  become  bishop  of  Tagaste.i'^^     He  had  besides 

*"*  De  Moribus  Eccl.  Cathol.,  e.  33. 

""^  De  Gubernat.  Dei,  lib.  vii.  and  viii. 

lOT  (i  Propositura  tarn  bonum,  tam  sanctum,  quod  in  Christi  nomine  cupi- 
mus,  sieut  per  alias  terras,  sic  per  totani  Africam  puUulare."  —  De  Open 
Jfonachorum,  c.  28. 

""  Epist.  Paulin.  ad  Alyp.,  in  Op.  Aug.,  t.  ii.  p.  51. 


2H2  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

founded  in  Hippo  a  monastery  of  women,  of  wliich  he  made 
his  own  sister  superior.  It  was  to  calm  the  dissensions 
which  had  arisen  <  here,  and  to  prevent  all  disorder  in  future, 
that  Augustine  drew  out  the  famous  Hule  which  bears  his 
name.  Written  in  423,  divided  into  twenty-four  articles,  and 
originally  destined  for  these  simple  African  nuns,  it  was 
resuscitated  under  Charlemagne,  as  we  shall  see  further  on, 
and  became  then  the  fundamental  code  of  an  immense  branch 
of  the  monastic  order.  It  has  served  as  the  basis  of  a  multi- 
tude of  congregations,  and  principally  of  the  canons  regular 
who  have  borne  up  to  our  days  the  name  of  St.  Augustine. 
Kight  centuries  after  the  ruin  of  ancient  Rome  and  the  inva- 
sion of  the  Barbarians,  when  St.  Dominic  desired  to  create  in 
the  midst  of  the  triumphant  Church  a  new  army  to  ward  off 
now  dangers,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  adopt  for  .its  rule  the 
constitution  which  the  greatest  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Church 
had  given  to  the  modest  convent  of  his  sister.^*^^ 

Tlius,  without  suspecting  it,  not  content  with  reigning, 
over  his  contemporaries  and  posterity  by  his  genius  and  doc- 
trine, Augustine  enriched  the  domains  of  the  Church  with 
an  institution  which,  after  fourteen  centuries,  still  remains 
fruitful  and  glorious  in  many  of  its  branches. 
His  treatise  But  cvon  in  his  lifetime  he  rendered  to  the  Church 
AionS-^^  and  the  monastic  order  a  more  direct  and  not  less 
Chorum.  remarkable  service.  Such  is  the  lamentable  infir- 
mity of  human  things,  that  progress  in  goodness  is  always 
accompanied  by  a  corresponding  recrudescence  of  original 
corruption.  It  disguises  itself  under  a  thousand  devices  and 
novel  forms,  but  it  always  reappears  in  order  the  better  to 
establish  the  merit  and  freedom  of  Christian  devotedness. 
The  abuses  of  the  monastic  order  had  risen  amidst  the  prim- 
itive fervor  of  the  institution.  They  displayed  themselves 
forcibly  in  the  general  depravity  of  Africa,  at  the  very  period 
when  Augustine  carried  there  the  first  fruits  of  his  zeal  and 
austerity.  The  monasteries  Avere  filled  with  a  certain  number 
of  men  escaped  from  the  hard  obligations  of  rural  or  muni- 
cipal life,  such  as  were  endured  under  the  last  emperors  of 
the  West,  who  came  there  to  seek  and  practise  indolence. 
Still  more,  a  sect  of  hypocritical  and  sluggish  monks  was 
formed,  called  the  Messalians,  who  wandered    through   the 

""  A  list  of  the  numerous  congregations  and  military  orders  which  fol- 
lowed the  rule  of  St.  Augustine,  may  be  seen  in  the  Histoire  des  Ordres  Re- 
Ugieux,  bj'  P.  Heltot.  It  fills  the  second  and  third  volumes  of  that  greal 
work,  edition  of  1714-15. 


IN    THE   WEST.  263 

Country  and  the  towns  begging,  selling  or  displaying  relica 
and  amulets.^i*'  They  preached  against  labor,  appealing  to 
that  text,  "  Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air ;  for  they  sow  not, 
neither  do  they  reap,  nor  gather  into  barns  ;  yet  your  heaven- 
ly Fatiier  foedeth  them.  Are  ye  not  much  better  than  they  ?  " 
And  in  order  to  be  more  like  the  birds,  who  do  not  divest 
themselves  of  their  plumage,  they  allowed  their  hair  to  grow 
—  the  reverse  of  the  regular  monks,  for  the  complete  tonsure 
was  already  a  kind  of  consecrated  custom.  From  thence 
arose  scandals  and  disorders.  The  Bishop  of  Carthage, 
whose  diocese  was  especially  troubled  with  them,  entreated 
Ir's  colleague  of  Hippo  to  put  down  these  impostors.  Augus- 
tine did  it  in  a  celebrated  essay,  entitled  Dq  Opere  Mono- 
diorum,  which  remains  to  us  as  an  exposition  of  the  motives 
f)f  that  law  of  labor  which  has  been  the  glory  and  strength 
of  the  monks,  and  also  as  an  unchangeable  sentence  pro- 
nounced beforehand  against  the  laxness  of  after  ages. 

Some  curious  details  as  to  the  manner  by  which  monaster- 
ies at  that  period  recruited  their  ranks  are  to  be  found  here. 
"  Sometimes  slaves,"  says  he,  "  sometimes  freedmen  of  old 
standing,  or  men  enfranchised  by  their  masters  on  purpose 
that  they  may  become  monks,  are  seen  arriving  to  embrace 
the  religious  profession  ;  these  peasants,  laborers,  and  plebe- 
ians, have  passed  an  apprenticeship  rude  enough  to  render 
them  apt  in  their  new  condition.  To  refuse  them  would  be  a 
crime,  for  many  of  them  have  already  given  great  examples 
of  virtue."  ^^^  He  would  then  have  these  applicants  admitted 
even  although  the  motive  which  led  them  was  doubtful, 
whether  it  was  to  serve  God,  or  only  to  flee  from  a  hard  and 
indigent  life,  to  be  fed,  clothed,  and  even  honored  by  those 
who  had  been  accustomed  to  disdain  and  oppress  them.^^^ 
But  he  would  have  them,  above  all,  rigorously  constrained  to 
labor.  Contrasted  with  these  plebeians,  he  quotes  the  exam- 
ple of  patricians,  whose  conversion  at  the  same  time  edified 
all  the  Church,  and  who  watered  with  their  sweat  the  monas- 
tic gardens.  "  It  is  not  right,"  says  he,  "  that  mere  w^orkmen 
should  be  idle  where  senators  are  seen  to  labor;  nor  that 

110  "  Alii  membra  raartyrum,  si  tamen  martyrum,  venditant;  alii  fimbrias 
et  phylaeteria  sua  magnificant."  —  De  Opere  Monachorum,  c.  28. 

'"  "Nunc  veniunt  plerique  ...  ex  professione  servili,  vel  etiam  liberti, 
vel  propter  hoc  a  dominis  liberati  seu  liberandi,  et  a  vita  rusticana  et  ab  opi- 
ticum  exercitatione  et  plebeio  labore,  .  .  .  qui  si  non  admittanlur,  grave  de- 
lictual est."  —  De  Opere  Monachorum,  c.  22. 

"*  "  Neque  apparet  utrum  ...  an  pasci  atque  vestiri  voluerint,  et  iusu" 
per  bonorari  ab  eis  a  quibus  contemni  conterique  consueverant."  —  Ibid. 


264  MONASTIC   PRECUESOES 

peasants  should  be  fastidious,  where  the  lords  of  vast  patri- 
monies come  to  sacrifice  their  wealth."  1^3  jjg  ^ig^  combata 
the  apologists  of  religious  idleness  by  the  example  and  word? 
of  St.  Paul,  who  passed  his  life  making  tents  by  the  labor  of 
his  hands.  To  those  who  pretended  to  do  away  with  labor  in 
order  to  sing  the  praises  of  God,  he  answered  that  they  could 
very  well  sing  and  work,  as  the  boatmen  and  laborers  often 
did.ii^  He  ended  by  sighing  for  the  regulated  and  moderate 
work  of  the  monks  who. divided  their  day  between  manual 
labor,  reading,  and  prayer,  whilst  it  fell  to  his  lot  to  consume 
his  life  in  the  painful  and  tumultuous  perplexities  of  the  epis- 
copate, then  complicated  by  the  settlement  and  arbitration  ol 
a  multitude  of  temporal  affairs. 

Thus,  after  having  had  for  their  defender  the  greatest  of 
the  Fathers  of  the  East,  St.  John  Chrysostom,  the  monks  had 
the  honor  of  finding  a  legislator  and  reformer  in  the  most  il- 
lustrious and  eloquent  of  the  Fathers  of  the  West.  Both 
consecrated  their  genius  to  defend  and  regulate  an  institu- 
tion which  appeared  more  and  more  necessary  to  the  Church 
and  Christendom. 
St.  Fuig-on-       Before  leaving  Africa  let  us  refer  to  another  holy 

'"^' monk,  illustrious  by  his  eloquence  and  writings,  a 

45(^5:53.  bishop  Hkc  Augustine,  and  like  Athanasius  exiled 
for  the  faith.  St.  Fulgentius,  the  abbot  of  an  African  monas- 
tery, inspired  by  reading  the  life  of  the  Fathers  of  the  desert, 
went  to  the  Thebaid  to  live  as  a  solitary.  But  Egypt,  torn 
by  schisms  and  heresies,  and  already  given  up  to  the  spirit 
of  death,  had,  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  century,  only  rare  inter- 
vals of  light  and  fervor.  Fulgentius  had  to  content  himself 
with  extending  the  monastic  institution  in  Sardinia,  whither 
he  was  exiled  by  a  Vandal  and  Arian  king,  and  of  consolidat- 
ing it  by  his  best  efforts  in  Africa,  where  the  Church,  at  one 
time  so  flourishing  with  its  seven  hundred  bishoprics,  was 
soon  to  sink  during  the  struggle  waged  against  a  decrepid 
and  corrupt  civilization  b}^  the  fury  of  the  Vandals,  that  fero- 
cious nation  which  was  the  terrible  precursor  of  the  terrible 
Islam. 

The  persecution  of  the  Vandals  drove  back  the  cenobitical 
institution  from  Africa  to  Spain  :  we  shall  speak  hereafter  of 
".ts  obscure  and  uncertain  beginnings  in  the  Iberian  Penin- 
sula. 

113  a  ^^^^\]Q  modo  dccct  in  hac  vita  ubi  sunt  scnatores  laboriosi,  sint  artifi- 
ces otiosi,  et  quo  veiiiiint  rclictis  divitiis  qui  fuerunt  praediorum  domini,  ibi 
sint  rustici  delicati."  —  Jbid.,  c.  25. 

'^*  De  Opere  Monachorum,  c.  17. 


IN    THE    WEST.  265 

But  in  the  first  place  let  us  return  to  Gaul,  wljic;h    ^  .  .     , 

II  1  1  •       J  1   •  •  1  •  Origin  of 

has  been  too  long  passed  over  in  tins  rapid  review  monastic 
of  the  origin  of  the  monastic  institution  in  the  West;  InGaui!""^ 
and  which  was  about  to  become  the  promised  land  jnAi^eoi 
of"  monastic  life.  Here  again  we  find  Athanasius,  Athmia- 
and  the  fertile  seed  which  that  glorious  exile  had 
spread  through  the  world.  Exiled  to  Treves  by  Constantine 
in  336,  he  inspired  all  the  clergy  of  the  Gauls  ^^-^  with  his  ar- 
dor for  the  Nicene  faith,  and  for  the  noble  life  of  the  solitaries 
of  the  Thebaid.  The  narrative  of  St.  Augustine  has  showed 
what  effect  the  history  of  St.  Anthony,  written  by  St.  Atha- 
nasius and  found  by  them  at  Treves,  produced  upon  some 
officers  of  the  imperial  court.  This  event  demonstrates  the 
sudden  power  with  which  that  enthusiasm  for  monastic  life 
extended  itself  in  the  midst  of  the  dissolute,  impoverished, 
and  saddened  existence  of  the  Roman  empire,  at  the  gates  of 
which  the  Barbarians  already  struck  redoubted  blows.^^^ 
From  Treves,  which  was  its  cradle  in  the  West,  the  new  in- 
stitution, aided  by  the  influence  of  the  writings  of  Athana- 
sius, spread  rapidly  through  Gaul,  where  it  had  the  singular 
fortune  of  being  first  established  by  the  greatest  and  most 
lastingly  popular  man  of  the  Gallican  Church.  That  man 
was  St.  Martin,  bishop  of  Tours. 

Born  in  Pannonia  of  a  pagan  father,  a  tribune  of  st.  Martin 
the  imperial  army,  the  young  Martin,  at  the  age  of  °^  ^°"''^' 
ten,  made  his  escape  from  his  father's  house  to  give  310-397. 
himself  to  Christ,  and  to  be  educated  by  the  prieists,  with  the 
intention  of  becoming  a  monk  like  the  hermits  of  Egypt  and 
the  East,  whose  fame  had  already  travelled  to  the  banks  of 
the  Danube.  But  it  was  in  vain  :  in  his  capacity  as  son  of  a 
veteran,  the  laws  of  the  empire  obliged  him  to  serve  in  the 
army.  Servitude  existed  everywhere  in  this  imperial  world. 
His  own  father  betrayed  him.  At  fifteen  Martin  was  seized, 
bound,  and  enrolled  by  force  in  the  cavalry,  which  he  could 
not  leave  till  he  had  made  twenty  campaigns  !  He  lived 
with  the  frugality  and  austerity  of  a  monk,  although  he  was 
still  only  a  catechumen,!!^  and  it  was  during  this  long  and 
cruel  novitiate  that  his  miraculous  meeting  occurred  at 
Amiens  with  that  poor  man  to  whom  he  gave  the  half  of  hid 

"^  Athanasius  was  three  times  in  Gaul,  in  336,  346,  and  349. 

"'  OzANAM,  De  la  Civilisation  Chretienne  au  v^  Siccle. 

'"  "  Animus  tamen  aut  circa  monasteria  aut  circa  Ecclesiam  semper  in- 
tentus.  .  .  .  Kaptus  et  catenatus  .  .  .  ita  ut  non  miles,  sed  raonachus  putare 
tur."  —  SoLP.  Sever.,  Hist.  d.  Mart.,  c.  1. 

VOL.  I.  23 


2G6  MONASTIC    PRFXURSORS 

cloak,  and  who  has  made  his  fame  so  popular.  Delivered  at 
iast, "  this  veteran  of  the  Roman  army,  educated  in  camps  for 
the  Church,"  ^^^  sought  in  Christendom  for  a  bishop  under 
whose  wing  he  could  find  shelter  for  the  rest  of  his  days. 
Pupil  of  St  ^^^  choice  was  fixed  upon  St.  Hilary,  bishop  of 
Hilary  of  Poitiers.^i^  There  was  none  more  illustrious  in  the 
Church,  He  vied  with  Athanasius  in  defending  the 
divinity  of  Jesus,  and,  inaccessible  like  him  to  seductions  and 
violence,  resisted  victoriously,  as  he  did,  eveiy  effort  of  the 
imperial  power  in  favor  of  heresy.  Both  had  the  same  fate. 
The  Patriarch  of  Alexandria  had  scarcely  returned  from  the 
exile  which  had  sent  him  from  the  Nile  to  the  Rhine,  when 
the  illustrious  doctui  of  Poitiers  was  banished  for  the  same 
cause  into  the  depths  of  Asia  Minor.  Aided  by  the  immense 
extent  of  the  empire,  despotism  did  not  hesitate  to  cast  a 
confessor  of  the  faith  from  one  extremity  of  the  world  to  the 
other ;  but  these  caprices  of  blind  force  remained  powerless, 
and  the  arm  of  the  persecutor  only  served  to  throw  afar  the 
seed  of  truth  and  the  example  of  courage. 

Hilary  received  the  old  soldier  with  joy.  conferred  minor 
orders  upon  him  against  his  will,  and  then  sent  him  to  Pan- 
nonia  to  convert  his  mother.  The  Arians,  everywhere  im- 
placable and  all-powerful,  soon  expelled  him  from  his  own 
country,  at  the  same  time  as  the  holy  bishop  of  Poitiers  was 
on  liis  way  to  exile.  Martin  would  not  return  to  Gaul  with- 
out his  friend ;  he  stopped  at  Milan  in  a  monastery ,120  an(J 
then  went  on  to  the  almost  desert  isle  of  Gallinara,  in  sight 
of  the  coast  of  Genoa,  where  he  lived  on  roots  to  prepare 
himself  the  better  for  monastic  life. 

The  triumphant  return  of  Hilary  in  360  led  him 
at  Ligug6,'  back  to  Poitiers,  and  it  was  at  the  gates  of  this  town 
monastery  that  Martin  then  founded,  with  the  concurrence  of  the 
Gauls'  bishop,  that  monastery  of  Liguge  which  history  des- 

ignates as  the  most  ancient  in  Gaul.^^i  His  youthful 
ambition  was  satisfied ;  all  his  trials,  all  his  crosses  were  sur- 
mounted :  behold  him  a  monk  !    But  soon  a  pious  fraud  drew 

"*    VlLLEMAIN. 

"9  Born  in  300,  died  in  367  or  368. 

120  44  MedioLini  sibi  monasleriuin  constituit."  —  Sulp.  Sever.,  Vit.  S. 
Martini,  c.  4. 

'*'  Many  previous  examples  are,  iiowever,  quoted,  sucli  as  that  monastery 
of  the  Isle  Barbe,  wliich  offered  an  asylum  to  the  Christians  of  Lyon  during 
the  persecution  of  Severus ;  but  this  priority  is  not  certainly  established.  — 
Compare  Mabillon,  Prcefat.  in  sac.  'in.  Benedict.,  and  the  learned  Notice 
of  M.  Cousseau,  bishop  of  Angoul^nie,  ins-erted  in  the  Meutoirs  of  the  Society 
of  Antiquaries  of  the  West. 


IN    THE    WEST.  26"? 

Lira  from  his  cloister  to  raise  him  to  the  metropoh'tan  see  of 
Tours.  In  vain  he  struggled  against  the  hand  of  God  which 
refused  repose  and  obscurity  to  him.  From  that  moment 
during  his  whole  life,  as  after  his  death,  the  Christian  uni- 
verse was  filled  with  the  fame  of  his  sanctity  and  rairacles.^^ 

He  was,  in  the  first  place,  the  most  dreaded  ene-  Martin's 
my  of  all  the  remnants  of  paganism  which  existed  lifpns 
among  the  Gauls.  We  see  him,  accompanied  by  his  '"  "^^ 
monks,  going  over  the  country,  casting  down  the  Druidical 
monuments  and  oaks  consecrated  by  the  ancient  national 
worship  of  the. Gauls,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  temples  and 
statues  of  the  Roman  gods;  victors  and  vanquished  together 
yielded  to  the  new  conqueror.  However,  the  rural  popula- 
tion defended  their  altars  and  venerable  trees  with  a  despera- 
tion which  went  so  far  as  to  threaten  the  life  of  Martin.  But 
he  braved  their  rage  with  as  much  resolution  as  he  put  forth 
in  contending  with  demons  ;  for  in  the  midst  of  his  apostolic 
journeys,  like  Anthony  in  the  depths  of  the  Thebaid,  the 
great  bishop  was  assailed  by  frightful  phantoms,  which  took 
the  form  of  the  gods  whose  altars  he  had  broken,  appearing 
to  him  in  the  shape  of  Jupiter  or  Mercury,  oftener  still  of 
Venus  or  Minerva,  and  making  the  air  resound  with  their 
clamors  and  reproaches. ^^^ 

But  God  had  specially  chosen  him,  as  well  as  St.  Hilary, 
to  save  Gaul  from  that  contagion  of  Arianism  which  infected 
at  once   Romans  and   Barbarians.     The  two  bishops  opened 
the  glorious  annals  of  the  Galilean  Church  by  the  noblest 
personification  of  dignity  and  charity.     Martin  was  called  to 
Treves,  where  he  retraced  the  steps  of  St.  Athana-  His  noble 
sins,  and  was  destined  to  meet  with  St.  Ambrose,   attitude  at 
The  Emperor  Maximus  held  his  court  there,  amid  theEm- 
the  abject  adulation  of  a  crowd  of  bishops,  who  in-  p*^™""' 
thralled  the  dignity  of  the  priesthood  to  imperial  favoritism. 
"  Alone  among  them  all,"  says  his  biographer,  "  Martin  pre- 
served the  dignity  of  an  apostle."  i^^''     He  did  still  mszeai 
more  for  the  honor  of  his  name  and  his  faith  by  pfrggcutlng 
protesting  against  the  intervention  of  secular  power  bishops. 

'^*  BossuET,  Hist.  Universelle. 

123  44  Diabolus.  .  .  .  Interilum  in  Jovis  personam,  pleruraque  Mercurii, 
perssepe  etiam  se  Veneris  ac  Minervae  transfiguratutn  vnltibus  ofFerebat.  .  .  . 
Audiebantur  etiam  plerumque  convicia,  quibus  ilium  turba  dsemonum  prO' 
tervis  vocibus  increpabat."  —  Sulp.  Sever.,  c.  24. 

i23»  "  Cum  ad  imperatorem  .  .  .  plures  .  .  •  episcopiconvenissent,  etfoeda 
circa  principem  omnium  adulatio  notaretur,  seque  degeneri  inconstantia  re- 
gise  clifntelae  sacerdotalis  dignitas  subdidisset,  in  solo  Martino  apostolica  aue 
toritas  permanebat."  —  Sulp.  Seveb.,  c.  23. 


268  MONASTIC    PEECUKSOllS 

in  ecclesiastical  causes,  and  against  the  punishment  of  the 
heretic  Priscilh'an  and  his  associates.  The  Emperor  Maxi- 
mus  had  3-ielded  to  the  importunities  of  the  Spanish  bishops, 
who,  themselves  scarcely  escaped  from  the  sword  of  pagan 
executioners,  already  demanded  the  blood  of  lieretics.  Mar- 
tin pursued  the  accusers  with  his  reproaches,  and  the 
emperor  with  his  supplications.  He  insi^^ted  that  excommu- 
nication, pronounced  against  the  heretics  by  episcopal  senr 
tence,  '"as  sufficient,  and  more  than  sufficient,  to  punish 
llien  .^^  He  believed  that  he  had  succeeded,  and  left  Troves 
only  on  receiving  the  imperial  promise  that  mercy  should  be 
extended  to  the  culprits. 

But,  after  his  departure,  the  unworthy  bishops  returned  to 
the  charge,  and  wrested  from  Maximus  the  order  to  execute 
Priscillian  and  his  principal  disciples. ^-^  Informed  of  this 
detestable  judgment,  Martin  returned  from  Tours  to  Treves, 
to  procure  the  safety,  at  least,  of  the  rest  of  the  sect.  But 
he  had  solemnly  rejected  the  communion  of  persecuting 
bishops;  ^-"^  and  he  only  consented  to  remove  tlie  brand  with 
which  the  public  reprobation  of  so  holy  a  bishop  marked  his 
colleagues,  on  perceiving  that  this  was  the  sole  means  of 
saving  the  lives  of  the  Priscillianists  who  remained  to  be 
murdered  in  Spain,^^?  where,  however,  the  death  of  their 
chief,  who  was  henceforward  regarded  as  a  martyr,  far  from 
extinguishing  his  heresy,  served  only  to  strengthen  and  ex- 
tend it.^^  Still  he  reproached  himself  greatly  with  his  con- 
cession ;  he  declared  with  tears  that  he  felt  his  virtue  les- 
sened by  it.  During  the  sixteen  remaining  years  of  his  life 
he  kept  back  from  all  the  assemblies  oi"  bishops,  fearful  of 
meeting  those  whom  he  regarded  as  guilty  of  a  crime  and 
unheard-of  novelty  in  the  annals  of  the  Church>-^     He  thus 

'**  "  Satis  supcrque  sufficere,  ut  episcopali  sententia  haeretici  judicati  ec- 
clesiis  pellerentur."  —  Sulp.  Sever.,  Hist.  Sacr.,  lib.  ii.  in  fin. 

12a  (.  Jniperator  per  Magnum  et  llufum  cpiscopos  depravatus.  .  .  .  Hoc 
inodo  homines  luce  indignissimi,  pessimo  excmplo  necati."  —  Ibid.  "De- 
pravatus consiliis  sacerdotum."  —  Dial.  4,  De  Vit.  S.  Martini. 

^'^^  St.  Ambrose,  who  was  also  at  Treves  at  this  period,  withdrew  equally 
from  the  communion  of  the  bishops  who  pursued  the  Priscillianists  to  death. 

'-'  "  Ilia  priBcipua  cura,  ne  tribuni  cum  jure  gladiorum  ad  Hispanias  mit- 
terentur :  pia  enim  erat  sollicitudo  Martino,  ut  non  solum  Christianos  qui  sub 
ilia  erant  occasione  vexandi,  sed  ipsos  etiam  liaBreticos  liberaret." — Sulp., 
Dialpg.,  loc.  cit. 

128  "  pi-istjiiiiano  oceiso,  non  solum  non  repressa  est  haeresis,  .  .  .  sed  con- 
firmata  hitus  propagata  est."  —  Sulp.  Sever.,  loc.  cit. 

129  'tj^ovum  et  inauditura  facinus."  —  Sulp.,  Hist.  Sacr.,  loc.  cit.  "  Sub- 
inde  nobiscum  lacrymis  fatebatur,  et  propter  commuuionis  illius  malum  .  ,  . 
ijetrimentum  sentire  virtutis."  —  Dial. 


IN    THE    WEST.  269 

kept  tlie  noble  promise  which  his  master,  St.  Hilary,  had 
made  when,  denouncing  to  the  Emperor  Constantius  the 
atrocious  cruelties  of  the  Arians  against  the  Catholics,  ho 
added,  "  If  such  violence  was  employed  to  sustain  the  true 
faith,  the  wisdom  of  the  bishops  should  oppose  it ;  they  should 
say,  God  will  not  have  a  forced  homage.  What  need  has  He 
of  a  profession  of  faith  produced  by  violence  ?  We  must  not 
attempt  to  deceive  Him;  He  must  be  sought  with  simplicity, 
served  by  charity,  honored  and  gained  by  the  honest  exer- 
cise of  our  free  will."  i^o  ^j^jj  the  glorious  confessor  added: 
"  Woe  to  the  times  when  ti]e  divine  faith  stands  in  need  of 
earthl}'  power ;  when  the  name  of  Christ,  d(!spoiled  of  its 
virtue,  is  reduced  to  serve  as  a  pretext  and  reproach  to  am- 
bition ;  when  the  Church  threatens  her  adversaries  with  exile 
and  prison,  by  means  of  which  she  would  force  them  to  be- 
lieve, she  who  has  been  upheld  by  exiles  and  prisoners  ;  when 
she  leans  upon  the  greatness  of  her  protectors,  she  who  has 
been  consecrated  by  the  cruelty  of  her  persecutors  !  "  ^^^ 

Martin,  on  returning  to  his  diocese,  had  also  to  undergo  the 
scandalous  envy  and  enmity  of  many  bishops,  and  of  those 
priests  of  Gaul  who  had  been  so  soon  tainted  by  Roman 
luxury,  and  who  already  made  themselves  remarked  by  the 
pomp  of  their  equipages,  their  costumes,  and  their  dwell- 
ings.^32  g^t  amid  the  cares  of  his  episcopate,  he  sighed  more 
than  ever  after  the  sweetness  of  monastic  life.  To  enjoy 
this  he  founded,  half  a  league  from  Tours,  the  celebrated 
monastery  which  has  honored  his  name  for  more  than  four- 
teen centuries.  Marraoutier  123  ^v^^g  l[-ieji  a  l-iij(j  of  Foundaiiou 
desert  enclosed    between  the    right   bank   of  the   ^^ou^tiJr. 

""  "  Si  ad  fidein  veram  istius  modi  vis  adhiberetur,  episcopalis  doctrlna  ob- 
viain  pergeret,  diceretque :  Deus  .  .  .  non  requirit  coactam  confessionem. 
Siinplicitate  queercndus  est  .  .  .  A^oluntatis  probitate  retinendus."  —  S.  Hl- 
LARU.  Ad  Constant.,  lib.  i.  c.  6. 

'^'  "  At  nunc,  proh  dolor !  divinara  fidem  suffragia  terrena  commendant, 
inopsque  virtutis  suae  Cliristus,  duni  ambitio  nomini  suo  conciliatur,  arguitur. 
Tenet  exsiliis  et  carceribus  Ecclesia :  credique  sibi  cogit,  quae  exsillis  et  ear- 
ceribus  est  credita.  Pendet  ad  dignationem  communicantium,  quae  persequen- 
tium  est  consecrata  terrore."  —  S.  Hilar.,  Cont.  Aiixent.,  ii.  4. 

'■'^  "  Qui  ante  pedibus  aut  asello  ire  consueverat,  spumante  equo  superbus 
invehitur.  .  .  .  Inter  episeopos  saevientes  euni  fere  quotidianis  scandalis  hinc 
atque  inde  premeretur.  .  .  .  non  illi  ego  quemquani  audebo  nionachorum, 
certe  nee  episcoporum  quempiani  coinparare.  .  .  .  Nee  tauien  huic  crimini 
nii^eebo  populares  ;  soli  ilium  clerici,  soli  nesciunt  sacerdotes."  —  Sulp.  Se- 
VEK.,  Dial.,  c.  14,  17,  18. 

'•'•*  Martini  monasterium,  or  Majus  monasterium.  Of  tbis  magnificent 
monastery,  one  of  tlie  greatest  and  richest  in  France,  the  archway  of  an  out- 
house in  the  external  enclosure  is  all  that  remains.  The  rest  of  the  b"iilding 
has  been  thrown  down  and  demolished. 

23* 


270  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

Loire  and  the  scarped  rocks  which  overlook  the  course  of 
the  stream  ;  it  could  be  entered  only  by  a  very  narrow 
path.  The  holy  bishop  inhabited  there  a  cell  made  of  in- 
terlaced branches,  like  that  which  he  had  for  only  too  short 
a  time  occupied  at  Liguge.  The  eighty  monks  whom  he 
had  collected  there  dwelt  for  the  most  part  in  pigeon-holes 
hollowed  in  the  rock,  and  were  attired  only  in  camel  skins. 
Among  them  were  many  noble  Gauls,  who  were  afterwards 
drawn  from  their  retreat  to  be  made  bishops,  like  Martin,  in 
spite  of  themselves. 

Arrived  at  the  end  of  his  career,  eighty  years  old,  and 
eager  to  receive  his  celestial  reward,  he  yielded  to  the  tears 
of  his  disciples,  and  consented  to  ask  from  God  the  prolon- 
gation of  his  days.  "  Lord,"  said  he,  "  if  I  am  still  neces- 
sary to  Thy  people,  I  would  not  draw  back  from  the  work." 
Non  recuso  lahorem!  Noble  words  which  ought  to  be  the 
motto  of  every  Christian,  and  which  was  that  of  the  monks  for 
ten  centuries. 

The  influence  which  the  recommendation  and  guarantee 
of  such  a  man  would  exercise  in  the  extension  of  the  monas- 
tic order  may  be  easily  comprehended.  But  God  decided 
that  he  was  ripe  for  heaven :  he  died,  and  when  his  body  was 
carried  to  the  tomb  which  was  to  become  the  most  venerated 
sanctuary  in  Gaul,  two  thousand  monks  formed  its  funeral 
train.  Snlpicius  Severus,  his  enthusiastic  disciple,  wrote  his 
life,  which  soon  attained,  throughout  the  West,  in  the  East, 
and  even  as  far  as  the  Thebaid,  a  popularity  equal  to  that  of 
the  Life  of  St.  Anthony  by  Athanasius,  and  difiTused  every- 
where at  once  the  glory  of  the  saint  and  that  of  the  institu- 
tion which  he  had  loved  so  much. 

Suipicius  This  Sulpicius  Severus,  a  richnoble  of  Aquitaine, 

Severus.  and  an  eloquent  advocate  before  he  became  the  dis- 
3fi3-iio~or  ciple  of  St.  Martin,  had  been  the  friend  of  St.  Pau- 
*-'^°  linus  of  Nola.     Like  the  latter,  he  had  given  up  the 

world,  his  fortune,  and  his  career  at  the  bar,  had  sold  his 
patrimony,  and  chosen  for  his  dwelling  one  of  his  villas  in 
Aquitaine  among  his  slaves,  who  had  become  his  brothers  in  re- 
ligion. They  lived  there  together,  praying  and  laboring, sleep- 
ing upon  straw,  eating  only  brown  bread  and  boiled  lierbs. 
Complaints  ^^  sliould  be  remarked  to  the  honor  of  these  first 
of  the  neophytes  of  the  cenobitical  order  in  Gaul,  that  it 

Gaul  cost  them  a  much  greater  sacrifice  to  conform  them- 

excessive'^  sclves  to  the  austerity  of  this  new  life,  than  it  did  to 
fasts,  monks  belonging  to  the  naturally  temperate  popu- 


IN   THE    WEST,  271 

lation  of  Africa  or  the  Levant.  Thesii  poor  Gauls,  accus- 
tomed to  the  abundant  and  solid  food  of  northern  nations, 
found  in  -conlining  themselves  to  the  abstinence  prescribed 
by  monastic  rules,  that  the  rations  of  the  monks  of  Egypt 
and  Palestine  were  indeed  very  meagre.  The  half-loaves 
of  barley-bread  and  little  handfuls  of  herbs  which  sufficed 
for  the  meals  of  the  Thebaid,  revolted  their  rebellious  stom- 
achs. Doubtless  they  (jften  heard  the  beautiful  words  cf 
St.  Athanasius  repeated  :  "  Fasting  is  the  food  of  angels."  1^4 
IJut  it  did  not  satisfy  them.  ''  We  are  accused  of  gluttony," 
tlioy  said  to  Sulpicius,  *•  but  we  are  Gauls;  it  is  ridiculous 
and  cruel  to  attempt  to  make  us  live  like  angels  :  we  arc  not 
angels ;  once  more,  we  are  only  Gauls."  ^^  These  murmurs 
did  not  prevent  them  from  reserving,  out  of  the  produce  of 
their  labor,  enough  to  support  the  poor  whom  they  received 
in  a  hospice,  in  order  that  they  might  render  them  the  hum- 
blest services.  It  was  in  this  austere  retreat  that  Sulpicius 
Severus  wrote  the  biography  of  St.  Martin  and  his  Sacred 
History,  which  extends  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  to 
the  year  400,  and  was  the  first  attempt  at  ecclesiastical  his- 
tory made  in  the  West.^^^ 

Charity  had  been  the  soul  of  the  efforts  of  St. 
Martin    and    his  disciples,  in  the  extension  of  the  monastic 
cenobitic  institution  upon  the   banks  of  the  Loire,  ™/thewest 
but  it  excluded  neither  the  study  nor  love  for  sacred  intiieflfth 
literature.     Neither  the  care   of  the  poor,  nor  the 
practice  of  any  other  monastic  virtue  suffered  by  it;  yet  wo 
see  intellectual  life,  and  especially  the  culture  of  the  defence 
of  Christianity,  reigning  in  a  great  and  celebrated  monastery, 
which  was  during  all  the  fifth  century  the  centre  of  monastic 
life  in  the  south  of  Gaul,  and  which  merits  to  itself  alone  a 
detailed  history. 

The  sailor,  the  soldier,  and  the  traveller  who  proceeds  from 
the  roadstead  of  Toulon  to  sail  towards  Italy  or  the  East^ 

*^*  "  Jcjuniura  enim  angelorum  cibus  est :  qui  eo  utitur  ordinis  angelic] 
censendus  est." —  S.  Athanas.,  De  Virgin.,  lib.  ii. 

i3o  c(  Prandium  .sane  locupletissimum,  dimidium  panem  hordeaceum  .  .  . 
fascicultiui  etiain  herbae  intulit.  .  .  .  Qui  nos  edacitatis  fatiges :  sed  facis  in- 
liuiiiane,  qui  nos,  Gallos  homines,  cogis  exeniplo  angelorum  vivere  .  .  . 
quoil.  ut  .>-£epe  testaius  sum,  Galli  sumus  "  —  Sulp.  Sever.,  Dial.,  i.  c.  3. 

'*®  Another  friend  of  Paulinus  and  Sulpicius  Severus,  Aper,  like  them, 
rich,  noble,  and  eloquent,  retired  into  solitude  with  his  wife,  to  live  there  in 
continence.  It  is  supposed  tiiat  this  is  the  same  person  who  afterwards  be- 
came the  first  bishop  of  Toul,  and  still  enjoys  popular  veneration  in  Lorraiaa 
under  the  name  of  St.  Evre. 


272  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

passes  among  two  or  three  islands,  rocky  and  arid,  sunnount- 
ed  here  and  tliere  by  a  slender  chister  of  pines.  He  looks  at 
them  with  indifference,  and  avoids  them.  However,  one  of 
these  islands  has  been  for  the  soul,  for  the  mind,  for  the 
moral  progress  of  humanity,  a  centre  purer  and  more  fertile 
than  any  famous  isle  of  the  Hellenic  Archipelago.  It  ia 
Lerins,  formerly  occupied  by  a  city,  which  was  already 
ruined  in  the  time  of  Pliny,  and  where,  at  the  commencement 
of  the  fifth  century,  notliing  more  was  to  be  seen  than  a 
desert  coast,  rendered  unapproachable  by  the  numbers  of  ser- 
pents which  swarmed  tliere. ^^'^ 

St  Honora-  ^^  ^^^>  ^  ^^^  landed  and  remained  there  ;  he  was 
*U8-  called  Honoratus.    Descended  from  a  consular  race, 

educated  and  eloquent,  but  devoted  from  his  youth  to  great 
Diety,  he  desired  to  be  made  a  monk.  His  father  charged 
his  eldest  brother,  a  gay  and  impetuous  young  man,  to  turn 
him  from  ascetic  life  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  he  who 
gained  his  brother.  After  many  difficulties  he  at  last  found 
repose  at  Lerins ;  the  serpents  yielded  the  place  to  him  ;  a 
multitude  of  disciples  gathered  round  him.  A  community  of 
austere  monks  and  indefatigable  laborers  was  formed  there. 
The  face  of  the  isle  was  changed,  the  desert  bacame  a  para- 
dise ;  a  country  bordered  with  deep  woods,  watered  by 
beneficent  streams,  rich  with  verdure,  enamelled  with 
flowers,  embalmed  by  their  perfumes,i38  revealed  the  ferti- 
lizing presence  there  of  a  new  race.  Honoratus,  whose  fine 
face  was  radiant  with  a  sweet  and  attractive  majesty ,-3^ 
opened  the  arms  of  his  love  to  the  sons  of  all  countries  who 
desired  to  love  Christ.!**^  A  multitude  of  disciples  of  all 
nations  joined  him.  The  West  could  no  longer  envy  the 
East ;  and  shortly  that  retreat,  destined,  in  the  intentions  of  its 
founder,  to  renew  upon  the  coasts  of  Provence  the  austeri- 
ties of  the  Thebaid,  became  a  celebrated  school  of  theology 
and  Christian  philosophy,  a  citadel  inacessible  to  the  wavea 
of  barbarian  invasion,  an  asylum  for  literature  and  science, 

'"  "  Vacuam  insularn  ob  nimietatem  squaloris,  et  inaccessam  veneratoriim 
animalium  metu."  —  S.  Hilakii,  Vit.  S.  Uonoraii,  p.  15,  ap.  Bolland.,  t.  ii. 
Januar. 

138  u  ^quis  scatens,  floribus  renitens  .  .  .  odoribus  jucunda,  paradisura 
possidentibus  se  exhibet."  —  Eocher.,  De  Laude  Eremi,  p.  342. 

'39   Hid. 

140  11  Velut  ulnis  efFusis  protensisque  bracbiis  in  amplexum  suum  onines, 
hoc  est  in  amorem  Cliristi  invitabat,  omnes  undique  ad  ilium  confluebant. 
Etenim  quae  adliuc  terra,  quae  natio  in  monasterio  illius  cives  non  habet?  "  — 
UiLAK.,  in  Vit.  S.  Honorati,  c.  17. 


IN   THE    WEST.  273 

which  had  fled  from  Italy  invaded  by  the  Goths;  in  short,  a 
nursery  of  bishops  and  saints,  who  were  destined  to  spread 
over  the  whole  of  Gaul  the  knowledge  of  the  Gospel  and  the 
glory  of  Lerins.  We  shall  soon  see  the  beams  of  that  light 
flashing  as  far  as  Ireland  and  England,  by  the  blessed  hands 
of  Patrick  and  Augustine. 

There  is  perhaps  nothing  more  touching  in  monastic  annala 
than  the  picture  traced  by  one  of  the  most  illustrious  sons  of 
Lerins,  of  the  paternal  tenderness  of  Honoratus  for  the 
numerous  family  of  monks  whom  he  had  collected  round  him. 
He  could  read  the  depths  of  their  souls  to  discover  all  their 
griefs.  He  neglected  no  effort  to  banish  every  sadness,  every 
painful  recollection  of  the  world.  Ha  watched  their  sleep, 
their  health,  their  food,  their  labors,  that  each  might  serve 
God  according  to  the  measure  of  his  strength.  Thus  he 
inspired  them  with  a  love  more  than  filial:  "  In  him,"  they 
said,  "  we  find  not  only  a  father,  but  an  entire  family,  a  countrj'^, 
the  whole  world."  When  he  wrote  to  any  of  those  who  were 
absent,  they  said,  on  receiving  his  letters,  written,  according 
to  the  usage  of  the  time,  upon  tablets  of  wax :  ''  It  is  honey 
which  he  has  poured  back  into  that  wax,  honey  drawn  from 
the  inexhaustible  sweetness  of  his  heart."  In  that  island 
paradise,  and  under  the  care  of  such  a  shepherd,  the  perfume 
of  life  breathed  everywhere.  These  monks,  who  had  sought 
happiness  by  renouncing  secular  life,  felt  and  proclaimed 
that  they  had  found  it ;  to  see  their  serene  and  modest  joy, 
their  union,  their  gentleness,  and  their  firm  hope,  one  could 
have  believed  one's  self  in  presence  of  a  battalion  of  angels 
at  rest.141 

The  churches  of  Aries,  Avignon,  Lyons,  Yienne,  Troyes, 
Riez,  Frejus,Valence,  Metz,  Nice,  Vence,  Apt,  Carpentras,  and 
Saintes,  borrowed  from  the  happy  isle,  as  it  was  everywhere  ^^ 
called,  their  most  illustrious  bishops.  Honoratus,  taken  from 
his  monastery  to  be  elevated  to  the  metropolitan  see  of  Afles, 
had  for  his  successor,  as  abbot  of  Lerins,!*^  and  after-  st.  Hilary 
wards,  as  bishop  of  Aries,  his  pupil  and  relative  of  Aries. 


'"'  "  Hie  alget,  hie  aegrotat;  illi  hie  labor  gravis  est,  huie  hsec  esca  non 
coiigruit.  .  .  .  Tabulis,  ut  assolet,  cera  illitis  .  .  .  litteris  .  .  .  Mel,  inquit, 
8uum  ceris  reddidit."  —  Hilar.,  op.cit.,n.  18,  22.  *' Spirabat  passim  odoi 
vitae.  .  .  .  Angelica  quietis  agmen  ostendunt.  .  •  .  Dum  beatam  quaerunt  vi- 
tam  beatam  agunt."  —  S.  Euchek.,  1.  c. 

'^^  "  Beata  ilia  insula." 

"*  After  St.  Maximus,  who  was  the  first  successor  of  Honoratus  at  Lerin^ 
und  afterwards  bishop  of  Riez. 


274  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

Hilary/^  to  whom  we  owe  the  admirable  biogropb}'  of  hia 
master.  Hilary,  whom  the  gently  and  tender  Honoraius  had 
drawn  from  worldl^y  life  after  a  desperate  resistance,  by  force 
of  entreaties,  caresses,  and  tears,^^^  retained  in  the  episcopato 
the  penitent  and  laborious  life  of  the  cloister  of  Lerins.  He 
went  through  his  diocese  and  the  neighboring  country  always 
on  foot  and  barefooted  even  in  the  snow.  Celebrated  for  his 
graceful  eloquence,  his  unwearied  zeal,  his  ascendency  over 
the  crowd,  and  by  the  numerous  conversions  which  he 
worked,  he  was  once  at  variance  with  the  Pope,  St.  Leo  the 
Great,  who  deprived  him  of  his  title  of  metropolitan  to  punish 
him  for  certain  uncanonical  usurpations  ;  but  Hilary  knew 
how  to  yield,  and  after  his  death  the  Great  Pope  did  him 
justice  by  calling  him  Hilary  of  holy  memory M^ 
The  doctors  Amougst  this  harvcst  of  saints,  prelates,  and  doc- 
and  saints  tors,  which  Lcrius  gave  to  Gaul  and  to  the  Church^^" 
there  are  still  several  whom  it  is  important  to  indi- 
cate, because  they  are  reckoned  among  the  Fathers,  and 
illuminated  all  the  fifth  century  with  their  renown. 
Vincent  de  Holding  the  first  rank  among  these  was  the 
Lerins^  great  and  modest  Vincent  de  Lerins,  who  was  the 
Before  450.  'Qyqi  controversialist  of  his  time,  and  who  has  pre- 
served to  posterity  the  name  of  the  isle  which  had  been  the 
cradle  of  his  genius. 

He  composed  the  short  and  celebrated  work  which  has 
gained  him  immortality,  in  434,  three  j^ears  after  the  Council 
of  Ephesus,  and  on  occasion  of  the  Nestorian  heresy  which 
that  council  had  condemned.  He  would  not  put  his  name  to 
it,  and  entitled  it  humbly,  "  Remarks  of  the  Pilgrim,"  Com- 
monitorium  Peregrini.     In  this  he  has  fixed  with  admirable 

^^*  St.  Honoratus  died  in  428,  and  St.  Hilary  of  Aries  (wlio  must  not  he 
confounrled  with  St.  Hilary  of  Poitiers)  in  449.  Nothing  can  better  prove 
the  lasting  popularity  of  the  memory  of  St.  Honoratus  with  all  the  southern 
races,  than  the  Provencal  poem  called  Vie  da  St.  Jlonorat,  written  in  the 
tliirteenth  century  by  Ramond  Ferraud,  a  monk  of  Lerins,  where  the  biogra- 
phy of  the  saint  is  strangely  associated  with  the  romantic  traditions  of  the  age 
of  (yharlemagne  and  Girat  de  Roussillon.  —  See  Uistoire  Litteraire  de  la 
France,  vol.  xxii.  p.  237. 

''*  "Qunmdiu  mollire  duritiam  meam  nlsus  est  inibre  lacryraarum;  quara 
piis  mecum  pro  salute  mea  amplexibus  osculisqiie  certavit!  .  .  .  Quoties  sibi 
in  aniino  meo  velle  ot  nolle  successit !  "  —  S.  Hilar.,  op.  cit.,  n.  23. 

'*«  Ep.  37. 

'*^  See  the  curious  volume  entitled,  Clirotiologia  Sanctorum  et  aliorum 
Virorum  lllnstriuim  ac  Ahhatitm  Sacred  Insider  Lerinensis.  a  D.  Vine.  Bass\li 
Salerno  compilata.  Leyden,  1G13.  Besides  those  who  are  named  in  the 
text,  tlie  holj'^  abbot  Caprais,  Agricola,  bishop  of  Avignon,  and  Virgilius  of 
Aries,  to  whom  we  shall  return,  ought  to  be  noted. 


IN   THE    WEST.  275 

precision,  and  in  language  as  decisive  as  it  is  simple  and 
cori'ect,  the  rule  of  Catholic  faith,  by  establishing  it  on  the 
double  authority  of  Scripture  and  tradition,  and  originating 
the  celebrated  definition  of  orthodox  interpretation:  Quod 
semper,  quod  ubique,  quod  ah  omnibus  creditum  est.  Alter 
having  thus  established  the  immutability  of  Catholic  doctrine, 
he  demands:  ^'  Shall  there  then  be  no  progress  in  the  Church 
of  Clirist?"  "There  shall  be  progress,"  he  answers,  ''and 
even  great  progress,  for  who  would  be  so  envious  of  the  good 
of  men,  or  so  cursed  of  God,  as  to  prevent  it?  But  it  will  he 
progress,  and  not  change.  With  the  growth  of  the  ages  and 
centuries,  there  must  necessarily  be  a  growth  of  intelligence, 
of  wisdom,  and  of  knowledge,  for  each  man  as  for  all  the 
Church.  But  the  religion  of  souls  must  imitate  the  progress 
of  the  human  form,  which,  in  developing  and  growing  with 
years  never  ceases  to  be  the  same  in  the  maturity  of  age  as 
in  the  flower  of  youth."'  i"^^ 

Vincent  has  inscribed  at  the  head  of  his  masterpiece  a  testi- 
mony of  his  gratitude  for  the  sweet  sanctuary  of  Lerins, 
which  was  for  him,  as  he  sa3's,  the  port  of  religion,  when, 
after  having  been  long  tossed  about  on  the  sea  of  this  world, 
he  came  there  to  seek  peace  and  study,  that  he  might  escape, 
not  only  the  shipwrecks  of  the  present  life,  but  the  fires  of 
the  world  to  come.^*^ 

With  Lerins  also  is  associated  the  great  fame  of      gaivian 
Salvian,  the  most  eloquent  man  of  his  age  after  St.        — 
Augustine,   and  surnaraed    the   master   of  bishops, 
though  himself  only  a  priest.    He  passed  five  ^^ears  at  Lerins ; 
he  experienced  there  the  charms  of  peace  and  solitude  in  the 
midst  of  the  horrors  of  barbarian  invasion,  and  that  frighti'ul 
corruption  of  the  Roman  world,  of  which  he  has  traced  so 
startling  a  picture  in  his  treatise  upon  the  Government  of 
God. 

After  these  illustrious  priests  come  bishops  not  st.  Eucher 
less  celebrated  and  holy.  And  in  the  first  place  °^'^"^- 
Eucher,  whom  Bossuet  calls  the  great  Eucher,!^^  About 450. 
who  was  a  senator,  the  father  of  two  sons,  and  still  in  the 
flower  of  his  age,  when  he  retired  with  his  children  to  Lerins. 

'■"•  "  Sed  forsitan  dicet  aliquis  :  Nullusne  ergo  in  Ecclesia  ChriFti  profectus 
babebitur  religionis?  Habeatur  plane,  et  inaximus." —  Com.,  c.  136. 

149  ii  Reniotioris  villuls,  et  in  ea  secretum  monasterii  incolamus  habitacu- 
lum.  .  .  .  Quippc  qui  cum  aliquandiu  variis  ac  tristibus  saeeularis  militiae  tur- 
binibus  volvereniur,  tandem  nos  in  portum  Religionis  cunctis  semper  fidissi 
mum,  Christo  aspirante,  condidimus." —  Prcsf.  in  Commonit. 

''"  Second  sermon  for  the  Conception  de  la  Sainte  Vierge. 


276  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

A-lready  by  assiduous  study,  familiar  with  the  classic  models, 
and  versed  in  all  the  secrets  of  the  art  of  writing,  he  there 
learned  to  know  the  secrets  of  monastic  life  ;  this  inspired 
his  eloquent  Panegyric  on  Solitude,  his  treatise  On  Contem^^t 
of  the  World  and  Worldly  Philosophy,  and  his  tender  and 
sprightly  correspondence  with  St.  Honoratus.  Cassianiis 
dedicated  to  Eucher,  in  conjunction  with  Honoratus,  many  of 
his  (Jollationes,  or  conferences  upon  monastic  life,  which  have 
had  so  lasting  an  influence  in  the  Church  ;  he  associated  the 
Iwo  friends  in  his  veneration.  "  Oh,  holy  brothers,"  he  said 
\o  them,  "  j'our  virtues  shine  upon  the  world  like  great 
beacons :  many  saints  will  be  formed  by  your  example,  but 
will  scarcel}^  be  able  to  intimate  your  perfection."  '^°^  Like 
Honoratus,  Eucher  was  taken  from  the  cloister  to  the  episco- 
pate, and  died  while  occupying  the  metropolitan  see  of 
Lyons. 

St.  Lupus  But  the  influence  of  the  holy  and  learned   Pro- 

of  Troyes.  ygj^^^]  \q\q  gijouc  stiU  further  than  Loyns.  Thence 
.383-479.  Troyes  chose  for  its  bishop  that  illustrious  St.  Lupus, 
who  arrested  Attila  at  the  gates  of  Troyes,  before  St.  Leo 
had  arrested  him  at  the  gates  of  Rome.  It  was  he  who  de- 
manded of  the  king  of  the  Huns,  ''  Who  art  thou  ?  "  and  who 
received  the  far-famed  response,  •'  I  am,  Attila,  ike  scourge  of 
Godr  The  intrepid  gentleness  of  the  bishop-monk  disarmed 
tlie  ferocious  invader.  He  left  Troyes  without  injuring  it, 
and  drew  back  to  the  Rhine,  but  took  the  bishop  with  him, 
thinking  that  the  presence  of  so  holy  a  man  would  serve  as  a 
safeguard  to  his  army. 

St.  Lupus  undertook  a  journey  perhaps  less  painful  but  not 
less  meritorious,  when  he  was  chosen  for  his  eloquence  and 
sanctity  by  the  Council  of  429  to  combat  the  Pelagian  heresy 
in  Great  Britain,  along  with  St.  Germain  ofAuxerre.  For 
the  fifty-two  3'ears  during  which  he  held  his  bishopiic,  he 
observed  faithfully  all  the  practices  of  monastic  fervor  which 
he  had  learned  at  Lerins,  and  at  the  same  time  was  warmly 
interested  in  the  maintenance  of  ecclesrastical  studies,  and 
nad  a  passionate  love  for  literature,  which  made  him  keep  up 
to  his  old  age  an  epistolary  correspondence  with  Sidonius 
Appollinaris.  This  eminent  scholar,  then  occupying  tlie 
episcopal  see  of  Clermont,  declared  that  he  never  met  either 
barbarism  or  defect  of  punctuation  in  anything  written  by 
his  venerable  brother  of  Tro}' es.     His  virtues  and  enlighten* 

'*' See  Collationes  xi.  to  xvii.  — "  Vos  sancti  fratres  .  .  .  velut  magna 
luminaria  in  hoc  mundo  admirabili  claritate  fulgetis." 


IN    THE    WEST.  'Z77 

ment  earned  for  him  the  praise  of  being,  in  the  emphatic  l)ut 
sincere  style  of  the  period,  ''  the  father  of  fathers,  tiie  bisliop 
of  bishops,  the  prince  of  the  prelates  of  Gaul,  the  rule  of 
manner^,  the  pillar  of  virtue,  the  friend  of  God,  the  mediator 
for  men  with  Heaven." ^^^ 

Some  years  before  the  death  of  St.  Lupus,  another  st.CEcsarius 
eaint,  Caesarius,!^^  the  son  of  the  Count  de  Chalons,  °^  '^''''^'^' 
was  born  in  Burgundy,  and  passed  his  youth  in  the  •t^o-54.i. 
shadow  of  the  cloisters  of  Lerins  before  succeeding  the  first 
fathers  of  the  holy  isle,  Honoratus  and  Hilary,  upon  the 
archiepiscopal  see  of  Aries.  He  was  for  nearly  half  a  century 
the  most  illustrious  and  the  most  influential  of  the  bishops  of 
Southern  Gaul ;  he  presided  over  four  councils,  and  directed 
the  great  controversies  of  his  time.  He  maintained  nobiy 
the  independent  and  protecting  authority  of  the  episcopate 
against  the  barbarian  sovereigns  who  occupied  Provence  by 
turns,  and  whose  jealousy  was  roused  by  his  great  influence 
over  the  people.  He  was  exiled  by  Alaric,  king  of  the  Visi- 
goths, and  imprisoned  by  Theodoric,  king  of  the  Ostrogoths ; 
but  both  ended  by  rendering  him  justice  and  homage.  He 
was  passionately  loved  by  his  flock  ;  he  swayed  their  hearts 
by  that  eloquent  charity,  of  which  the  hundred  and  thirty 
sermons  he  lias  left  us  bear  the  stamp. ^^^ 

But  he  continued  always  a  monk,  in  heart,  life,  and  pen- 
itence.^^^  He  even  made  out,  for  the  use  of  various  com- 
munities of  men,  a  sort  of  rule,  in  twenty-six  articles,  nis  rule 
less  celebrated,  less  detailed,  and  less  popular  than  foi'ouus. 
that  which  he  wrote  for  the  great  monastery  of  women,  with 
which  he  endowed  his  metropolitan  town.  He  was  laboring 
with  his  own  hands  at  the  construction  of  this  sanctuary, 
when  Aries  was  besieged  in  508  by  the  Franks  and  Bur- 
gundians,  who  ruined  all  that  he  had  done,  and  employed  the 
materials  which  he  had  collected  for  their  works  of  circum- 
vallation.  But  as  soon  as  the  siege  was  raised,  Ca^sarius  re- 
sumed his  work  and  completed  it.     And  the  better  to  insure 

''■^  He  is  tlius  styled  by  Sidonius  Apollinaris  in  a  letter  (epist.  vi.  1)  in 
vliich  lie  recalls  his  youth  spent  at  Lerins  :  "Post  desudatas  milititeLerinen- 
sis  excubi:is."  Elsewhere  lie  calls  him,  "  Facile  principera  pontitiouni  Galli- 
canorum  "  (epist.  vii.  13). 

'^■*  Born  in  470,  a  monk  at  Lerins  in  490,  a  bishop  in  nOI.  died  August  27, 
542. 

'^^  M.  Guizot  has  given  some  fine  and  curious  extracts  from  the  sermons  of 
St.  Cajsarius.  —  {^Histoire  de  la  Civilisation  en  France,  luqon  16.) 

155  .i  Nunquani  Lerinensium  fratruni  instituta  reliquit :  ordine  et  oflacio 
clericus :  luunilitate,  charitate,  obedientia,  cruce  monachus  permanet."  — 
CiPUJANUS,  De  Vit.  S.  Ctsarii,  i.  4. 

VOL.  I.  24 


278  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

the  future  prosperity  of*  this  refuge,  which  he  raised  amid 
the  foaming  waves  of  the  barbarian  invasion,  like  an  ark  in 
the  midst  of  the  dehig-e,!^^  he  procured  a  confirmation  of  his 
foundation  from  Pope  Hormisdas,  who,  at  his  express  desire, 
exempted  it  even  from  episcopal  jurisdiction.  He  made  his 
own  sister  Csesaria  the  abbess,  who  governed  it  for  thirty 
years,  and  shortly  gathered  there  two  hundred  nuns.  This 
brave  Christian  woman  caused  to  be  prepared,  and  ranged 
symmetrically  round  the  church  of  the  monastery,  stone  cof- 
tins  for  herself  and  for  eacli  of  the  sisters.  They  all  lived 
and  sang  day  and  night  the  praises  of  God  in  presence  of  th»> 
open  tombs  which  awaited  them. 

It  was  into  this  church  that  Caesarius  himself,  feeling  his 
end  approach,  had  himself  conveyed  to  bless  and  console  his 
daughters.  And  certainly,  at  that  last  moment,  he  did  not 
forget  his  dear  island  of  Lerins,  t'lat  metropolis  of  monastic 
fervor,  the  glory  of  which  he  proclaimed  in  these  impassioned 
words — "0  happy  isle,  0  blessed  solitude,  in  which  the 
majesty  of  our  Redeemer  makes  every  day  new  conquests, 
and  where  such  victories  are  won  over  Satan  !  .  .  .  Thrice 
happy  isle,  which,  httle  as  she  is,  produces  so  numerous  an 
offspring  for  heaven  !  It  is  she  who  nourishes  all  those  illus- 
trious monks  who  are  sent  irito  all  the  provinces  as  bishops. 
When  they  arrive,  they  are  children  ;  when  they  go  out,  they 
are  fathei's.  She  receives  them  in  the  condition  of  recruits, 
she  makes  them  kings.  She  teaches  all  her  happy  inhabitants 
to  fly  towards  the  sublime  heights  of  Christ  upon  the  wings 
of  humility  and  charity.  That  tender  and  noble  mother, 
that' nurse  of  good  men,  opened  her  arms  to  me  also:  but 
while  so  many  others  owe  heaven  to  her  teaching,  the  hard- 
ness of  my  heart  has  prevented  her  from  accomplishing  her 
task  in  me."  ^^'' 

The  Abbey  Another  monastic  metropolis  upon  the  same  coasts 
"oi-'at  Mar-  of  Pi'oveuce,  the  Abbey  of  St.  Victor  at  Marseilles, 
seiiies.  rivalled  Lerins  in  importance.  This  abbey  was 
built  in  the  midst  cjf  those  great  forests  which  had  supplied 
the  Phoenician  navy,  which  in  the  time  of  Csesar  reached  as 
iar  as  the  sea-coasi,  and  the  mysterious  obscurity  of  which 

'""^  "  Quasi  recontior  toniporis  nostri  Noe,  propter  turbines  et  procellas,  so- 
d.ilihus  vol  soroiibus  in  lattTu  Eeclesiffi  inonii^terii  fabricabat  aream."  —  Act. 
SS.  BOLLAND..  t.  vi.  Auji'.,  p.  7U 

'*'  '' Doata  ct  tc'Hx  insula  I^yrinensis,  .  .  .  quDS  accipit  Alios  reddit  patres, 
.  .  .  quo3  veiuu  tirones  {alitf,  tyrannos)  f.xcipit,  reges  facit.  .  .  .  Voluil 
prsBclara  ninler,  et  unica  et  singularis  bonorum  nutrix." —  S.  C^sarii,  N'j  25, 
ap.  Bill.  Max.  Fair.,  viii.  8i5. 


IN   THE   WEST.  279 

had  so  terrified  the  Roman  soldiers  that  the  conqueror,  to 
embolden  them,  had  himself  taken  an  axe  and  struck  down 
an  old  oak.^^^  It  was  built  over  the  grotto  where  the  holy 
martyr  Victor,  a  Roman  legionary,  had  been  buried,  at  the 
end  of  the  third  century.  It  thus  connected  with  the  holy 
memory  of  tlie  age  of  martyrs  the  more  pacific,  but  still  hard 
and  incessant,  labors  of  the  new  confessors  of  the  faith.  Its 
founder  \vas  John  Cassianus,  one  of  the  most  re-  (j^ggj^nyg 
markable  personages  of  the  time.     Born.  acccTcIing        — 

...  .  350-147 

to  the  common  opinion,  in  the  country  oi  the  Scyth- 
ians, according  to  others,  at  Athens,  or  even  in  Gaul,!^^  ho 
was  first  a  monk  at  Bethlehem,  and  then  in  Egypt,  where  he 
dwelt  seven  years  among  the  hermits  ol'  Nitria  and  of  the 
Thebaid.  He  has  left  us  a  close  and  fascinating  picture  of 
their  life.^^*^  He  went  afterwards  to  Constantinople  to  find 
St.  John  Chrysostom,  who  ordained  him  a  deacon,  and  sent 
him  to  Rome  to  plead  his  cause  with  Pope  Innocent  I.  At 
Rome  he  became  the  friend  of  St.  Leo  the  Great  before  his 
elevation  to  the  papacy,  and  at  his  request  wrote  a  rei'utation 
of  the  heresy  of  Nestorius  against  tlie  incarnation  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

Having  thus  surveyed  all  the  sanctuaries  and  studied  the 
saints,  he  came  to  Marseilles  and  founded  there  the  great 
Monastery  of  St.  Victor,i*^i  which  shortly  reckoned  five  thou- 
sand monks,  partly  within  its  own  walls  and  partly  among  the 
houses  reared  in  the  shadow  and  under  the  influence  of  this 
new  sanctuary. 

It  was  to  instruct  and  discipline  this  arm}'^  of  monks  that 
Cassianus  wrote  the  four  books  of  Institutions^  and  the  twen- 
ty-four Conferences  or  Collationes.  These  two  works  have 
immortalized  his  name,  and  retain  the  first  rank  among  the 
codes  of  monastic  life.  In  some  he  describes,  even  to  its 
minutest  details,  the  manner  of  living,  of  praying,  and  of  self- 

'^*  RuFFi,  Ilistoire  de  Marseille,  1696,  t.  i.  p.  26. — De  Ribbe,  La  Pro- 
vence ait  point  de  vue  des  hois,  etc.,  1857,  p.  23. 

'^*  This  is  the  opinion  of  Holsteniu's.  which  Mabillon  seems  to  adopt. — 
Compare  J.  B.  Qcesnay,  Cassianus  III  ustr  at  us. 

'^^  Extract  from  his  Collationes,  which  forms  the  fourth  book  of  the  collec- 
tion of  P.  Kosweyde. 

**"  In  this  abbey  there  weie  two  churches,  one  built  over  the  otlier;  the 
lower  or  subterranean  is  understood  to  have  been  consecrated  by  St.  Leo  the 
Great,  at  the  request  of  his  friend  Cassianus.  Ruined  by  the  Saracens  in  the 
ninth  century,  and  re-established  b}''  William,  vicomte  of  Marseilles,  the  ab- 
batial  basilica  was  re-dedicated  in  10-13  by  Pope  Benedict  IX  ,  who  came  ex- 
pressly from  Rome  to  perform  that  ceremony,  in  presence  of  twenty-threa 
bishops  and  ten  thousand  laymen. 


280  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

mortification,  which  he  had  seen  practised  by  the  hermits  of 
the  Thebaid  and  Palestine.  In  others  he  develops  their  in- 
ternal life,  their  mind,  and  their  supernatural  wisdom. 

Cassianus  had  no  desire  that  his  monastery  should  be  like 
Lerins,  a  kind  of  seminary  for  priests  and  bishops  of  the 
neighborhood.  Although  he  had  been  himself  ordained  a 
deacon  by  St,  John  Chrysostom,  and  a  priest  by  Pope  Inno- 
cent L,  he  was  disposed  to  maintain  and  increase  the  ancient 
barrier  which  separated  the  monks  from  the  secular  clergy. 
lie  recommended  the  monks  to  avoid  bishops,  because  the 
latter  sought  ever}"  occasion  to  impose  upon  them  some  ec- 
clesiastical office  in  the  world.  **Itwas  the  advice  of  the 
Fathers,"  says  he,  ''  an  advice  always  in  season,  that  a  monk 
should  at  all  hazard  flee  from  bishops  and  women  ;  for  neither 
women  nor  bishops  permit  a  monk  whom  they  have  once 
drawn  into  their  friendship  to  remain  peacefully  in  his  cell, 
nor  to  fix  his  eyes  upon  pure  and  heavenly  doctrine,  by  con- 
templating holy  things."  ^^^ 

But  the  Christian  nations  made  a  successful  movement 
against  those  prohibitions  of  primitive  fervor.  They  ardently 
sought,  as  priests  and  bishops,  men  trained  in  the  monastic 
sanctuaries.  And  it  was  bishops  and  priests  from  the  cloisters 
of  St.  A-^ictor  and  of  Lerins,  who  gave  to  the  clergy  of  Gaul, 
in  the  filth  century,  that  theological  science  and  moral  con- 
sideration, in  which  prelates,  taken  from  the  Gallo-Romanic 
aristocracy,  without  having  passed  through  monastic  life, 
were  too  often  deficient. 

However,  the  Church,  which  during  all  the  fourth  century 
had  to  contend  against  Arianism,  encountered,  in  the  fifth,  a 
new  and  not  less  serious  danger  in  Pelagianism.  After  hav- 
ing denied  the  divinity  of  the  Redeemer,  heresy  aimed  a 
mortal  blow  at  his  doctrine  and  at  Christian  virtue,  by  deny- 
ing the  necessity  of  grace.  Pelagius,  the  author  of  this 
heresy,  was  a  Breton  monk  ;  his  principal  disciple  was  also  a 
Breton,  Celestius,^'^^  a  monk  like  himself.  Their  dreadful 
error  was  long  contagious.  St.  Augustine  devoted  all  his 
knowledge  and  talent  to  confute  it,  and  it  was  soon  proscribed 
by  the  Church. 

162  "  j^euter  enim  sinit  eum  quern  semel  suae  familiaritati  devinxerit  vel 
quieti  cellulge  ulterius  operam  dare,'"  &c.  —  Institutiones,  lib.  xi.  c.  17.  Cas- 
sianus ftll  into  some  errors  of  doctrine;  but  as  he  died  before  the  condemna- 
tion of  liis  erroneous  tenets,  he  was  not  the  less  regarded  as  a  saint  by  a  great 
number  of  the  f  dthful. 

1C3  I'hey  preached  at  Rome  about  405,  and  in  Africa  about  411.  Absolved 
by  the  Council  of  Jerusalem  in  415,  they  were  condemned  at  Carthage  and  al 
Mileve,  in  41G  and  418.     After  418  there  is  no  further  mention  of  Pelagius. 


IN    THE    WEST.  28] 

It  has  been  asserted  that  this  heresj'  found  some  Peia-ian- 
eupport  in  the  great  monasteries  of  Southern  Gaul,  Imput'id^to 
the  services  and  merits  of  which  have  just  been  Serins, 
glanced  at.  Attempts  have  been  made  to  prove  that  Pelagian 
opinions  had  their  principal  centre  in  the  Monastery  of  Lerins, 
and  that  Cassianus.  after  the  condemnation  of  Pelagius,  in- 
vented seini-Pelagianism.  Happily  no  chai-ge  is  more  un- 
founded ;  and  the  silence  of  the  Roman  Church,  then,  as  ever, 
80  vigilant  in  the  defence  of  orthodoxy,  sufficiently  absolves 
those  whom  modei'n  historians  liave  perhaps  intended  to 
honor  by  an  imputation  which  they  themselves  would  have 
rejected  with  horror.  One  defender  of  semi-Pelagianisra 
alone  proceeded  from  Lerins,  the  celebrated  and  virtuous 
Faustus,  Bishop  of  Riez,  who,  besides,  was  not  condemned 
till  after  his  death.  But  Lerins  equally  produced  St.  Ca^sa- 
rius,  who  gave  the  last  blow  to  that  error  in  the  Council  of 
Orange  in  529.^*^*  It  is,  however,  an  undoubted  certainty 
that,  in  the  celebrated  abbeys  of  St.  Victor  and  Lerins,  all 
the  great  questions  of  free-will,  predestination,  grace,  and 
original  sin,  were  studied  and  discussed  with  the  attention 
and  energy  which  became  the  holy  life  of  these  solitaries, 
and  that  this  noble  school  of  Lerins,  while  divided  according 
to  the  individual  predilections  of  its  writers  between  the 
supporters  and  the  adversaries  of  Cassianus  and  St.  Augus- 
tine, sought  to  reconcile  intelligence  and  freedom,  in  the 
highest  possible  degree,  with  grace  and  faith.  Lerins  was 
besides  ardently  devoted  to  Catholic  unity,  and  to  the  au- 
thority of  the  Church  ;  all  its  doctors  give  evidence  of  this 
in  their  writings,  and  one  of  the  most  illustrious,  St.  Hilary 
of  Aries,  as  has  been  seen,  by  his  dutiful  submission  to  the 
sentence  pronounced  against  him. 

Thus  enlightened  by  the  double  light  which  St.   ^,. 
Martin  had  called  forth  in  the  West,  and  the  school  astonesiu 
of  Lei  ins  in  the  south,  there  rose  by  degrees  through-    ""*"  " 
out  all  the  provinces  of  Gaul,  monasteries  which  came  to  con- 
sole her  invaded  cities  and  rural  districts,  devastated  by  the 
incessant  incursions  of  the  Goths,  Burgundians,  and  Franks. 
It  is  pleasant  to  trace  back  to  tlie  illustrious  Bishop   st.Germain 
of  Auxerre,  St.  Geimain,!'^^  whose  popularity  in  Gaul  ofAuxerre. 
and  Italy  almost  equalled  that  of  St.  Martin,  the  origin  of  a 

***  GoKiNi,  Defense  de  VEglise  contre  les  Urreurs  Historigues,  t.  i.  p.  76. 

'"*  Born  at  Auxerre  in  380,  made  a  bishop  in  418,  died  at  Ravenna  in  448. 
According  to  the  Bullandists,  there  were  almost  as  many  cliurclies  bearing  hia 
name  as  that  of  St.  Martin. 

24* 


282  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

monastery  wliicli  bears  his  oame,  in  his  episcopal  city,  and 
which  became  one  of  the  most  celebrated  abbeys  of  France 
in  the  middle  ages.^*^^ 

Not  far  from  Auxerre,  upon  the  contines  of  Ed u ens 
or  Moutiur-  and  Lingons,  in  the  country  already  occupie<l  by  the 
BurtMiuciy!*  Burgundians,  and  which  was  destined  to  bear  their 
ak"7^-a  name,  might  be  seen,  between  the  Serain  and  Ar- 
mangon,  one  ot  these  deserts  which  were  lormed 
under  the  Roman  administration.  There  was  built  the  Abbey 
of  Reome.  which  is  considered  the  most  ancient  in  Burgundy, 
and  which  has  since,  and  up  to  our  own  days,  been  called 
Moutier-St.-Jean,^''^  after  its  founder.  This  founder  was  the 
son  of  a  senator  of  Dijon,  with  whom  is  associated  one  of 
those  delightful  tales  which  then  began  to  spread  throughout 
Gaul,  and  which  prove  the  gradual  victory  of  Christian 
morals  over  the  hearts  and  imaginations  of  men,  amid  the 
struggles  of  barl)ai'isra  with  Roman  decrepitude.  His  name 
was  Hilary,  or  the  Joyous,  and  that  of  his  wife  Quieta,  or  the 
Tranquil.  The  tenderness  of  their  conjugal  union,  and  the 
regularity  which  reigned  in  their  house,  excited  the  admira- 
tion of  the  inhabitants  of  Dijon.  When  the  senator  died,  he 
was  interred  in  a  marble  tomb  which  he  had  prepared  for 
himself  and  his  wife,  and  the  splendor  of  which,  an  age  later, 
dazzled  Gregory  of  Tours,  who  has  transmitted  the  story  to 
us.  Quieta  rejoined  him  there  at  the  end  of  a  year ;  and 
when  the  covering  of  the  sepulchre  was  raised  to  let  down 
the  body  of  the  widow,  the  spectators  cried  out  that  tbey 
saw  the  husband  extend  his  hand  to  encircle  the  neck  of  his 
wife,  and  all  withdrew  transported  with  admiration  at  that 
miracle  of  a  conjugal  tenderness  which  lasted  even  in  the 
tomb.168     The  son  of  this  exemplary  couple,  John,  introduced 

'^®  See  the  Ilistoire  de  I'Abhaye  de  St.  Germain  d' Auxerre,  by  M.  I'Abbe 
Henry,  cure  de  Quarre-les-Tombes.     1853. 

""  Of  the  vast  and  beautiful  church  of  Moutier-St.-Jean,  bought  and  de- 
stroyed in  1790  by  one  of  the  last  monks,  named  Grouyn,  there  has  remained, 
for  ten  years,  only  a  very  fine  lateral  gate,  spared  by  chance,  which  stands 
isolated  in  the  middle  of  a  garden,  a  fine  specimen  of  the  architecture  of  tho 
fourteenth  century.  No  traces  remain,  however,  of  the  noble  west  front,  en- 
graved by  Dom  Rlancher,  in  the  Ilistoire  de  Bourgogne,  vol.  i.  p.  516.  This 
digression  touching  a  monastery,  forgotten  like  so  many  others,  will  be  par- 
doned to  one  who  writes  these  lines  not  far  from  its  ruins,  and  who  constantlj' 
frequents  the  woods  which  were  burdened  by  an  act  of  John,  lord  of  La  Roche- 
en-Breny,  in  1239,  with  a  tithe  accorded  to  the  Religious  of  Reomaus.  The 
forest  cantons  named  in  that  act  still  retain  their  old  names  of  Dos  d'Ane  and 
Bruyere  de  VaVcre.  Compare  P.  Roverius  (Father  Royer),  Reomaus,  seu 
Historia  Monasterii  S.  Joamiis  Reomaensis.     Paris,  1(537,  quarto,  p.  265. 

*'"'*  "  Sepulcrum  ejus  quod  hodie  patefecit  .  .  .  marmore  pario  sculptura 
•  .  .  Subito  elevata  vir  dextra  conjugis  cervicem  amplectitur.     Quod  avlnu- 


IN    THE    WEST.  2?3 

monastic  life  into  Burgundy,  and  at  the  same  time  began  tlie 
cultivation  of  the  plains  of  Auxois,  now  so  fertile  and  well 
cleared,  but  then  covered  with  impenetrable  forests.  John, 
and  some  companions  who  had  joined  him,  courageously  set 
to  work.  The  axes  with  which  they  cut  down  the  trees  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood  of  their  retreat,  were  stolen 
from  them  to  begin  with.i*^^  A  trifling  matter,  doubtless, 
and  in  appearance  unworthy  of  history,  but  which  gains  in- 
terest from  the  thought  that  the  work  thus  thwarted  has  suc- 
ceeded by  the  sole  strength  of  perseverance  in  well  doing, 
and  has  lasted  thirteen  centuries. ^'"^ 

At  a  still  earlier  period,  Auvergne  had  attracted  5i„Q.,g. 
attention  by  the  sanctity  of  its  monks.  It  was  the  teriesof 
heart  of  Gaul ;  it  was  the  country  of  the  young  Ver- 
cingetorix,  the  first  hero  of  our  history,  so  pure,  so  eloquent, 
so  brave,  and  so  magnanimous  in  misfortune,  whose  glory  is 
all  the  rarer  and  dearer  to  good  hearts  from  having  been  re- 
vealed to  us  only  by  his  pitiless  conqueror.  The  beautiful 
plain  of  the  Limagnc,  overlooked  by  the  table-land  of  Ger- 
govie,  where  Cassar  met  his  only  check,  had  attracted  by 
turns  the  admiration  and  covetousness  of  all  its  invaders. 
Enervated  by  imperial  despotism,  those  Gauls  who  had  con- 
quered Rome  before  they  were  conquered  by  her,  and  who 
had  resisted  with  so  much  heroism  the  legions  of  Caesar, 
could  only  bow  without  resistance  under  the  yoke  of  the 
Barbarian  conquerors.  The  Vandals  had  not  spared  Auvergne 
in  that  frightful  invasion  in  the  early  part  of  the  fifth  century, 
of  which  St.  Prosper  of  Aquitaine  has  said,  that  if  the  entire 
ocean  had  overflowed  upon  the  fields  of  Gaul,  its  vast  waves 
would  have  made  fewer  ruins. ^'^^  The  Visigoths  followed, 
bearing  with  them  Arianism  and  persecution,  condemning 
the  bisliops  and  priests  to  apostasy  or  martyrdom,  giving  up 
all  the  sanctuaries  to  sacrilegious  devastation,  and  leaving 
after  them,  according  to  tlie  testimony  of  Sidonius  Apollina- 

r ms  populus  .  .  .  cognovit  quas  .  ,  .  inter  ipsos  dilectio  fuisset  in  saeculo, 
que  se  ita  umplexi  sunt  in  sepulcro."  —  Gkeg.  Tcron.,  De  Gloria  Confess., 
V.  A-2. 

»«»  Act.  SS.  0.  S.  B.,  t.  i.  p.  Q,U. 

""  John  went  to  Lerins,  wlieu  already  an  old  man,  to  be  instructed  in  the 
jir.ictices  of  monastic  life;  which  did  not  prevent  him  from  teaching  hia 
mo.iks  to  adopt  as  their  rule  The  Insiitutes  of  the  Egyptian  Fatlters.  —  Ibid, 
He  died  more  than  a  Imndred  years  old,  in  oo9. 

"'  "  Si  totus  Gallos  sese  effudisset  in  agros 
*  Oceanus,  vattis  plus  superesset  aquis  ... 

Omnes  ultima  pertulinms." 

S.  Prosp.  Aquit.,  De  Provid.  Bivin.,  p.  618,  ed.  Migne. 


284  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

ris,  cattle  riirainatiiig  in  the  roofless  vestibules,  and  eating 
grass  beside  the  overthrown  altars.^^^    But,  amidst  those  lam- 
entable servitudes,  a  new  life  and  liberty  began  to  appear. 
Christian  fervor  had  taken  root  there  ;  it  disputed  the  empire 
of  souls  with  Roman  corruption;  it  produced  all   those  acts 
of  virtue,  courage,  and  abnegation  which  live  in  the  narra- 
tives of  Sidonius  ApoUinaris  and  Gregory  of  Tours. 
Towards        Before  the  East  had  revealed  monastic  institutions 
~'^'^'       to  the  West,  before  St.  Martin,  before  even  the  peace 
of  the  Church,  the  Roman  Austremonius,  one  of  the  seven 
bishops  sent  into  Gaul  by  Pope  Fabian,  had  planted  numer- 
ous Christian  associations  among  the  foiests  preserved  and 
consecrated  by  Druidical  superstition,  and  at  the  foot  of  the 
extinguished  volcanoes  of  Auvergne.     Issoire  was  the  first 
of  these  foundations,  and  at  the  same  time  the  place  of  his 
.        own  retreat,  and  the  scene  of  his  martyrdom.     The 
history  of  his  successor  Urbicus,  and  of  that  fatal 
night  when  the  wife  whom   he   liad  left  to  become  a  bisliop 
came  to  reclaim  her  place  in  the  bed  of  the  dishonored  priest, 
2^,        is    known. i'3     Withdrawn  from   his    see    after  this 
scandal,  he  found  in  one  of  these  new  monasteries 
an  asylum  and  a  tomb,  which  he  shared  with  his  wife  and  the 
daughter  who  was  born  to  them. 

Most  of  the  modern  cities  and  villages  of  Auvergne  owe 
their  origin  to  communities  ^''^  which  were  formed  during  the 
invasions  of  the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries,  and  where  the 
Auvergne  Catholics,  whose  rather  effeminate  civilization  has 
been  described  by  Sidonius  ApoUinaris,  took  refuge  from  the 
Arian  persecution,  and  the  calamities  of  which  they  were  too 
submissive  victims.  One  of  these,  founded  about  525,  re- 
ceived the  name  of  the  Arverne  monastery,  as  if  all  the  nation- 
ality of  the  country  had  taken  refuge  there.  They  were 
soon  joined  there  by  the  Visigoths,  who,  when  once  converted, 
willing]}-  mingled  with  the  Gallo-Romans  to  serve  together 
the  God  of  the  Gospel,  and  the  Son  of  God  equal  with  the 
Father.     Some  came  from  a  still  greater  distance,  for  a  her- 

172  <4  Ipsa,  proh  dolor !  vidoas  arinenta  non  modo  semipatentibus  jacere  ves- 
tibulis,  sed  etiam  lierbosa  viridentium  altarium  latera  depasci."  —  Sidon. 
AroLLiN.,  Epist.  vii.  6. 

'"  Greg.  Turon.,  Hist   Franc,  t.  i.  c.  44. 

"■*  Among  others,  Issoire,  Randan,  Brioude,  Thiers,  Combronde,  Mauriae, 
Menat,  Ebreuil.  &c-.  An  excellent  work  of  M.  Branche,  L' Auvergne  au 
Moyen  Age,  the  first  volume  of  which  alone  has  appeared,  and  which  is  ex- 
clusively devoted  to  the  monasteries  of  this  province,  may  he  consulted  with 
advantage,  concerning  the  beginning  of  the  monastic  order  in  Auvergne. 


IN    THE    WEST.  283 

mit  of  the  Thebaid,  born  in  Syria,  and  persecuted  by  the 
Persians,  is  known  to  have  ended  his  days  in  a  cell  near 
Clermont.i'^ 

Anchorites  and  even  stylites  appeared  there  as  in  the  des- 
erts of  Mesopotamia  and  the  country  of  Treves,  where 
Gregory  of  Tours  met  with  a  Lombard  monk  who  had  long 
lived  upon  the  top  of  a  pillar,  from  which  he  preached  the 
faith  to  the  people,  braving  the  intemperance  of  a  sky  less 
clement  than  that  of  the  East.^'*^  In  the  monastery  of  Randan, 
the  same  Gregory  knew  a  priest  who  constantly  maintained 
a  standing  position,  and  whose  feet  were  diseased  i'"  in  con- 
sequence. From  thence  he  went  to  render  homage  to  a  monk 
called  Caluppa,  who  passed  his  life  in  a  cavern,  at  the  top  of 
one  of  the  peaks  of  Cantal,  a  prey  to  ecstasies  and  diabolical 
temptations.  Some  herdsmen  had  one  day  seen  from  a  great 
distance  an  old  man  kneeling  on  the  top  of  a  hill,  his  arms 
raised  towards  heaven.  They  disclosed  his  existence  without 
being  able  to  address  him,  for  even  when  the  bishops  came 
to  visit  him,  this  austere  solitary  would  only  permit  them  to 
approach  the  foot  of  his  rock,  whilst  he,  kneeling  on  the 
ledge  of  his  grotto,  received  at  that  height  their  address  and 
benediction.!'^ 

Long  before  that  recent  growth  of  the  great  monastic  tree, 
and  as  long  as  it  lasted,  a  new  centre  of  monastic  foundation 
life  arose  in  the  eastern  extremity  of  (xaul,  upon  of  condat 
those  hills  of  Jura  which  separate  Gaul  from  Switz-  ciaude)in 
erland,  and  in  the  heart  of  the  province  Sequanaise,  *^®'^"'''*- 
which,  after  having  been  the  scene  of  the  first  exploits  of 
Caesar  on  this  side  of  the  Alps,  was  to  become  the  Thebaid 
of  the  Gauls.  A  native  of  Sequanaise  named  Remain,  trained 
at  the  monastery  of  Ainay,  near  Lyons,  left  at  the  age  of 
thirty-five  his  father's  house,  and,  carrying  with  him  the 
Lives  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Desert,  and  some  tools  and  seeds 
of  vegetables,  made  his  way  into  the  high  mountains  and  in- 
habited forests  which  overlook  his  native  country,  found  a 
site  enclosed  between  three  steep  heights,  at  the  confluence 
of  two  streams,  and  there  founded,  under  the  name  of  Condat, 
a  monastery  destined  to  become  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
in  the  West.  The  soil  was  little  adapted  for  cultivation,  but 
in  consequence  of  its  difficult  access,  became  the  property  of 

"*  SiDON.  Apollin.,  Epist.  vii.  17. 

"®  See  ihe  history  of  Wulflaich,  related  by  Gregory  of  Tours,  Hist.  Fianc.y 
viii.  15,  and  translated  by  M.  Guizot,  Hist,  de  la  Civilisation  en  France^ 
les-  U.  '"  Hist.  Franc.,  iv.  32.  "^   Vit  Pair.,  c.  11. 


286  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

the  first  occnpant.179  He  found  shelter  at  first  imder  an 
enormous  fir-tree,  the  thick  branches  of  which  represented  to 
hira  the  palm  which  served  the  hermit  Paul  in  the  desert  of 
Egypt  for  a  tent :  then  he  began  to  read,  to  pray,  and  to 
plant  his  herbs,  with  a  certainty  of  being  protected  against 
the  curious  and  importunate  by  the  extreme  ronglmess  of 
the  paths  Avhich  crossed  those  precipices,  and  also  by  the 
masses  of  fallen  and  interlaced  trees  called  cliahlls,  such  as 
are  often  met  with  in  fir  woods  not  yet  subjected  to  regular 
care  and  tendance. 

His  solitude  was  disturbed  only  by  the  wild  animals,  and 
now  and  then  by  some  bold  huntsman.is'^  However,  he  was 
™.    ,  ioined  there  by  his  brother  Lupicinand  otliers,  in  so 

The  two         J  y  I  I  1  ■         1    j^ 

broilers  great  a  number  that  they  were  soon  obliged  to 
aiiTjLupi-  spread  themselves  and  form  new  establishments  in 
*^*°'  the  environs.^^^     The  two  brothers  governed  these 

monasteries  together,  and  maintained  order  and  discipline  not 
without  difficulty  among  the  increasing  multitude  of  novices, 
against  which  an  old  monk  protested,  complaining  that  they 
did  not  even  leave  him  room  to  lie  down  in.  Women  fol- 
lowed, as  they  always  did ;  and  upon  a  neighboring  rock, 
suspended  like  a  nest  at  the  edge  of  a  precipice,^^^  the  sister 
of  our  two  abbots  ruled  five  hundred  virgins  so  severely  clois- 
tered, that  having  once  entered  into  the  convent  they  were 
seen  no  more,  except  during  the  transit  of  their  bodies  from 
the  deathbed  to  the  grave. 

Austere  As  for  the  mouks,  each  had  a  separate  cell ;   they 

lives  of  the    |^g^(j  Q^\y  the    refectory   in    common.     In   summer 

monks  oi  "'       ,      .        .  ''    ,  ,  -,  ,  .    ,     . 

condat.        they  took  their  siesta  under  the  great  nrs,  which  m 

"'  This  right  of  the  first  occupant  lasted  upon  the  heights  of  the  Jura 
through  all  the  middle  ages,  and  was  recognized  as  ancient  custom  in  a  char- 
ter of  1126.  —  GuiLLAUME,  Hist,  ds  Salins,  v.  i.,  proofs,  p.  3(3.  The  chron- 
icle in  verse  republislied  by  Mabillon  (^Annal..  v.  i.  appendix,  No.  3)  evident- 
ly influenced  by  more  modern  ideas,  declares  tlie  forest  of  the  Jura,  situated 
between  the  Rlione  and  Ain,  to  belong  only  to  the  Empire,  and  not  to  be  com- 
prised in  any  kingdom. 

18U  .1  Porrectis  in  orbitam  ramis  densissimam  abietem,  quae  .  .  .  velut 
quondam  palma  Paulum,  texit  ista  discipulum.  Congeries  arborum  caduca- 
rum.  .  .  .  Nullo,  nisi  ferarum  et  raro  venantium  frueretur  aspectu." —  Vit. 
S.  Romani,  ap.  Act.  SS.  Bolland.,  d.  28  Feb.,  p.  741.  Compare  Vie  des 
Saints  Francs- Comtois,  by  the  professors  of  the  college  of  St.  Francis 
Xavier;  Besan<jon,  1855  —  an  excellent  collection  which  we  shall  often  quote, 
the  best  of  the  kind  which  has  appeared  since  the  revival  of  Catholic  studies. 

"*'  The  first  of  these  colonies  was  Lauconne,  a  league  from  Condat,  which 
is  now  the  village  of  St.  Lupicin.  Another,  accordmg  to  the  most  probable 
opinion,  gave  birth  to  the  abbey  of  Romain-Moutier,  beyond  the  Jura,  to 
wards  Lake  Leman,  of  which  we  shall  speak  hereafter. 

'*-  This  site  is  now  occupied  by  the  church  of  St.-Bomain-de-Roche,  whera 
repose  the  relics  of  the  holy  founder  of  Condat. 


IN    THE    WEST.  287 

winter  protected  tlicir  dwelling  against  the  snow  and  north 
wind.  They  sought  to  imitate  the  anchorites  of  tlie  East, 
whoso  various  rules  they  studied  daily,  tempering  them  by 
certain  alleviations,  which  were  necessitated  by  the  climate, 
their  daily  labor,  and  even  by  the  constitution  of  the  Gaulish 
race.  They  wore  sabots  and  tunics  of  skins,  slightly  tacked 
together,  which  ])rotected  them  from  the  rain,  but  not  from 
the  rigorous  cold  of  these  bleak  heiglits,  where  people  are, 
says  their  biographer,  at  once  crushed  and  buried  under  tlio 
snow,  whilst  in  summer  the  heat  produced  by  the  reflection 
of  the  sun  upon  the  perpendicular  walls  of  rock  is  insupport- 
able. Lupicin  surpassed  them  all  in  austerity;  he  slept  in 
the  trunk  of  a  tree,  hollov/ed  out  in  the  form  of  a  cradle;  he 
lived  only  upon  pottage  made  of  barley-meal  ground  with  the 
bran,  without  salt,  without  oil,  and  without  even  milk  ;  au'l 
one  day,  disgusted  by  the  delicac}^  of  his  brethren,  he  threw 
indiscriminately  into  the  same  pot  the  fish,  the  herbs,  and 
the  roots,  which  the  monks  had  prepared  apart  and  with 
some  care.  The  community  was  greatly  irritated,  and  twelve 
monks,  whose  patience  was  exhausted,  went  away.  Upon 
this  an  altercation  arose  between  the  two  brothers.  "  It 
would  have  been  better,"  said  Remain  to  Lupicin,  *'  that  thou 
hadst  never  come  hither,  than  come  to  put  our  monks  to 
flight."  "  Never  mind,"  answered  Lupicin,  "  it  is  the  straw 
separating  from  the  corn  r  these  twelve  are  proud,  mounted 
upon  stilts,  and  God  is  not  in  them."  However,  Remain  suc- 
ceeded in  bringing  back  the  fug-itives,  who  all  became  in 
their  turn  superiors  of  communities. ^^^ 

For  a  colonizing  fertilit}'  soon  became  the  manifest  char- 
acteristic of  I'his  new  republic:  and  it  is  in  reference  to 
Condat  and  its  children,  if  I  do  not  deceive  myself,  that 
monastic  annals  employ  for  the  first  time,  the  trite  but  just 
image  of  the  swarm  of  bees  from  the  hive  to  describe  the 
colonies  of  monks  which  went  forth  from  the  mother  monas- 
tery to  people  the  Sequanaise  and  the  neighboring  provinces 

1S3  14  J^ion  solum  nivibus  obruta,  sed  sepulta  .  .  .  ita  sestuantia  alterno  vi- 
cinoque  saxorum  vapore  conflagrant."  —  Vit.  S.  Rom.,  p.  742;  lb.,  p.  743. 
'*  Frustra  enorinitate  convertentium  delectaris.  .  .  .  Diebus  aestivis  sub  ar- 
bore  solito  quiescent!. " —  Vit.  S.  Eitgendi,  c.  14,  ap.  Bollaxd.  "Lignea 
tantuiii  sola,  quae  vulgo  soccos  vocitant  monasteria  Gallicana." —  Vit.  S-  Lu- 
picini,  ap.  Bolland.,  d.  21  Mart.,  p.  263.  "  Hordaceas  incretasque  pultes, 
absque  sale  vel  oleo  .  .  ." —  Vit.  S.  Roman.,  loc.  cit.  '•  Si  sic  futurum  erat 
.  .  .  utinam  necaccessisses.  .  .  .  Duodecini  viri  cotliurnati  atque  elati  .  .  ." 
—  Greg.  Turon.,  Vit,  Patrum,  i.  7,  8.  This  last  incident  happened  at  Ro» 
main-Moutier ;  "  in  illis  Alemaniae  regionibus,"  says  Gregory  of  Tours. 


288  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

with  churches  and  monasteries. ^^^  They  all  recognize  J  Ihe 
authority  of  the  two  brothers;  they  already  excited  the 
admiration  of  orthodox  Christians,  oidonius  Apollinaris, 
whose  cultivated  mind  loved  to  keep  on  a  level  with  all  con- 
temporary events,  knew  and  praised  the  solitudes  of  the  Jura, 
and  congratulated  their  inhabitants  on  finding  there  a  fore- 
taste of  the  joys  of  Paradise.^^^  . 
,    „  Towards  the  end  of  Remain's  life,  a  child  of  seven 

450-460 

years  old  was  brought  to  him,  who  was  destined  one 
day  to  succeed  him,  and  to  give  for  several  centuries  his 
Su  Eu-  name  to  Condat.^^^  Eugende,  fourth  abbot,  substi- 
i^cnde.  tuted  a  common  dormitory,  where  he  himself  slept, 
495-510.  +Q  the  separate  cells  of  the  monks,  and  specially 
occupied  himself  in  promoting  the  work  of  education  in  the 
community.  Greek  and  Latin  literature  was  taught  there 
with  success,  not  only  to  the  future  monks,  but  to  youths 
destined  to  return  to  the  world :  and  Condat  became  the  first 
school  of  Sequanie,  and  one  of  the  most  celebrated  in  Gaul. 
Study  of  the  ancient  orators  ^^'^  was  united  to  the  work  of 
transcribing  manuscripts,  under  the  direction  of 
Viventiole,  the  friend  of  the  celebrated  St.  Avitus, 
bishop  of  Vienne,  whose  eloquence  he  corrected,  and  whose 
barbarisms  he  noted,  in  that  curious  correspondence  which 
all  literary  historians  have  recorded. 

These  intellectual  labors  did  not  imply  their  abandonment 
of  manual  work,  and  Viventiole  sent  to  his  friend  a  chair  of 
boxwood  made  by  his  own  hands,  which  marks  the  begin- 
ning of  that  valuable  branch  of  industry,  still  existing,  after 
the  lapse  of  fourteen  centuries,  in  the  cottages  of  Jura.^^^ 
Avitus  answered  him  gracefully  :    "  I  wish  you  a  chair  in 

^^*  "  Caeperunt  exinde  venerabilia  Patrum  exanima,  velut  ex  refecto  apum 
nlveario,  spiritu  sancto  ructante,  diflTundi  .  .  .  ita  ut  non  solum  Sequanorum 
provineiae  loca  secretiora  •  .  ." —  Vit.  S.  Rom.,  loc.  cit. 

185  '.j^unc  ergo  Jurensia  si  te  remittunt  jam  raonasteria,  in  quae  libenter 
solitus  ascendere,  jam  ccelestibus  praeludis  habitaculis."  —  Sidonii,  lib.  iv. 
Ep.  25. 

'*"  Condat  bore  the  name  of  St.  Eugende  or  St.  Oyand  up  to  the  twelfth 
century,  and  even  in  certain  public  acts  up  to  the  sixteenth.  It  is  under  tb'.s 
name  that  St.  Bernard  recommends  this  abbey  to  Eugenius  III.  (Ep.  291). 
It  afterwards  took  the  name  of  St.  Claude,  and  then  of  another  abbot,  of 
whom  mention  will  be  made  further  on. 

187  "  Praeter  Latinis  voluminibus  etiam  Grseca  facunda." —  Vit.  S-  Eugend., 
c.  3.  "  De  priscis  oratoribus  quos  discipulis  merito  traditis."  —  S.  Av\'., 
Ep.  71. 

'^^  Boxwood  grew  then  in  abundance  on  the  mountains  round  St.  Claude. 
This  precious  wood  has  now  disappear!.  J,  and  li:is  to  be  brought  from  Switzer- 
land, or  even  from  Bussia,  to  supply  the  workshops. 


IN   THE    WEST.  289 

return  for  the  seat  which  you  have  sent  me."     The  prophecy 
was   accomplished  when  Viventile   became  metropolitan  of 
Lyons  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixth  centurj'^,  and  by   Towards 
the  nomination  of  Avitns.  ^^*' 

All  those   districts  situated  between   the   Rhone 
and  the  Rhine,  and  overshadowed  by  the  Jura  and  of  the 
Alps,  were  then  occupied  by  the  Burgondes,  a  race   Hie"i3ur°" 
whose  manners  were  gentler  and  more  pure  than  son-'es. 
any  of  the  other  Barbarian  races,  and  who,  becoming  Chris- 
tians and  remaining  orthodox  till  about  the  3'ear  500,  treated 
the  Gauls  less  as  conquered  subjects  than  as  brothers  in  the 
faith.i^^     They  were  naturally  much  under  the  influence  of 
the  monks  of  Condat,  and  that  ascendency  was  exercised,  aa 
everywhere,    for   the   benefit  of  the    oppressed.      Lupicin, 
already  broken  by  age,  went  to  the  Burgonde  king  Lupicia  at 
Chilperic,i90  who 'resided  at  Geneva,  to  plead  with  k™'*''* 
him  the  cause  of  some  poor  natives  of  Sequanaise,  chiiperic. 
who  had  been  reduced  into  slavery  by  a  subordinate  poten 
tate.^91      This   petty  tyrant   was    one  of  those    degenerate 
Romans,  courtiers  and  oppressors,  who,  sometimes   in  the 
name  of  the  decrepid  power  of  the  Emperor,  sometimes  by 
flattering  the  newborn   authority   of  the  Barbarian   kings, 
equally    found   means  of  trampling   on   and    spoiling   their 
inferiors.     He  was  perhaps  one  of  those   senators  of  Gaul 
whom  the  Burgondes  had  admitted  in  456  to  a  share  of  the 
conquered  soil :  ^^^  and  Lupicin,   although  of  Gallo-Roman 
origin,  seems  to  have  been  less  favorably  disposed  towards 
Roman  government  than  that  of  the  Barbarians.     Gregory 
of  Tours  has  recorded  a  tradition  which  well  depicts  the  im- 
pression made  upon  the  popular  imagination  by  this  appa- 
rition of  the  monks  confronted  with  the  triumphant  Barbae 
rians.     He  relates  that  when  Lupicin  crossed  the  threshold 

'^*  Paul  Orose,  Hist.,  lib.  vii.  c.  32.  —  They  became  Arians  only  under 
Gondebaud  in  490,  and  returned  to  Catholicism  under  Sigismund  in  515.  It 
is  not  with  a  puerile  affectation  of  archaicism  that  I  use  the  word  Burgondes  : 
I  believe  this  designation  to  be  natural  and  necessary  to  mark  the  first  estab- 
lishment of  this  race  in  the  countries  wliich  have  retained  their  name,  and  to 
distinguish  the  first  kingdom  of  Burgundy  from  the  kingdoms  which  bore  the 
same  name  under  the  Merovingians,  and  afterwards  the  Carlovingians.  The 
same  difference  exists  between  the  Burgondes  and  Burgundians,  as  between 
the  Franks  and  the  French. 

'"^  Chiiperic  I.,  uncle  of  Chiiperic  II.,  father  of  St.  Clotilde. 

191  a  Pj,q  afflictione  pauperum  quos  persona  quaedam  lionore  dignitatis  au- 
licae  tumens  .  .  .  illicitae  servitutis  jugo  eubdiderat."  —  Vit.  S.  Lupicini,  loc. 
cit.,  p.  265. 

'^*  "  Eo  anno  Burgundiones  partem  Galliae  occupaverunt,  terrasque  cum 
Gallis  senatoribus  diviserunt."  —  Mabii.  Chronic. 

VOL.  I.  25 


290  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

of  the  palace  of  Chilperic,  the  throne  upoL  \vhich  the  king  waa 
seated  trembled,  as  if  there  had  been  an  earthquake. ^^^  Re- 
assui'ed  at  the  sight  of  the  old  man  clothed  with  skins,!^*  the 
Burgonde  pi-ince  listened  to  the  curious  debate  which  arose 
between  the  oppressor  and  the  advocate  of  the  oppressed. 
"It  is  then  thou,"  said  the  courtier  to  the  abbot  —  "it  is 
thou,  old  impostor,  who  hast  alread}''  insulted  the  Roman 
power  for  ten  years,  by  announcing  that  all  this  region  and 
its  chiefs  were  hastening  to  their  ruin."  "  Yes,  truly," 
answered  the  monk,  pointing  to  the  king,  who  listened  — 
"j^es,  perverse  traitor,  the  ruin  which  I  predicted  to  thee 
and  to  thy  fellows,  there  it  is.  Seest  thou  not,  degenerate  man, 
that  thy  rights  are  destroyed  by  thy  sins,  and  that  the  prayer 
of  the  innocent  is  granted?  Seest  thou  not  that  the  fasces 
and  the  Roman  purple  are  compelled  to  bow  down  before  a 
foreign  judge  ?  Take  heed  that  some  unexpected  guest  does 
not  come  before  a  new  tribunal  to  claim  thy  lands,  and  thy 
domains."  1^5  ^he  king  of  the  Burgondes  not  only  justified 
the  abbot  by  restoring  his  clients  to  libert}^  but  he  over- 
whelmed him  with  presents,  and  offered  him  fields  and  vine- 
yards for  his  abbey.  Lupicin  would  only  accept  a  portion  of 
the  produce  of  these  fields  and  vineyards,  fearing  that  the 
sentiment  of  too  vast  a  property  might  make  his  monks 
proud.  Then  the  king  decreed  that  they  should  be  allowed 
every  j^ear  three  hundred  measures  of  corn,  three  hundred 
measures  of  wine,  and  a  hundred  gold  pieces  for  their  vest- 
ments;  and  the  treasury  of  the  Merovingian  kings  continued 
to  pay  these  dues  long  after  the  fall  of  the  kingdom  of  the 
Burgondes.i^*^ 

The  importance  of  the  social  and  political  part  taken  by 
the  abbot  Lupicin  is  also  proved  by  the  curious  narrative  of 
his  intervention  in  the  prosecution  raised  b}''  Egidius,  the 
representative  of  imperial  authority   in    Gaul,  against  the 

193  "  Trenmit  cathedra  regis,  exterritusque  ait  suis :  Terras  motus  factus 
est."  —  De  Vit.  Fair.,  c.  1,  n.  10. 

'^*  "  Scnem  in  veste  pellicea."  — Ibid. 

195  u  'p^  pg  jiiy  duJuQ^  noster  impostor  .  .  .  cum  civilitatis  Romanae  apicis 
arrogans  derogarcs.  .  .  .  Ecce,  perfide  et  perverse,  .  .  .  Nonne  cernis  .  .  . 
iiutare  nmriceos  pellito  sub  judice  fasces.''  Respice  paulisper  et  vide  utrum 
rura  et  jugera  tua  novus  liospes  inexpectata  jurisdictione."  —  Vit.  S.  Lnpi- 
cini,  p.  265.  Tlie  authors  of  the  Vie  des  Saints  de  Franclie-ComU  perfectly 
acknowledge,  contrary  to  the  opinion  of  Perreciot  (i?e  V Etat  Civil  des  Per- 
tonncs,  vol.  ii.  p.  34),  that  he  acted  here  as  aGallo-Roman,  and  not  as  aBur- 
gimdian  landowner. 

196  .1  ^gi-os  et  vineas  non  accipiemus.  .  .  .  Quod  usque  nunc  a  fisciditjon- 
ibus  cajwre  referuntur."  —  Gseg.  Tubon.,  1.  c. 


IN    THE    WEST.  291 

Count  Agrippinus,  accused  before  the  Emperor  Majori;in  of 
having  treated  with  the  Barbarians.  The  abbot  of  Condat, 
who  was  the  friend  of  this  Count,  and  like  him  favorable  to 
the  Barbarians,  became  his  fidejussor  or  security,  and  was 
accepted  as  such  by  Egidius,  who  kissed  his  hand  as  he  put 
it  into  that  of  the  Count.^^'^  nie  King 

Fifty  years  later,  another  Burgundian  king,  Sigis-  ,?Ji^,\^j;^"""'^ 
raund.  after  having  renounced  Arianism  and  restored  a^muuo, 
freedom  to  the  Church  in  his  kingdom,  desired  to  [ra'tropoMs 
build  up  the  ruins  of  the  monastery  of  Agaune,  and  J^oi^'f,/"'""' 
sought  at  once  in  Condat  and  Lerins.  for  monks  to  Bur^^mdy. 
inhabit  it.  This  new  sanctuary  was  built  at  the  en-  515  o;:,'. 
trance  of  the  principal  passage  of  the  Alps,  in  one  of  the 
finest  landscapes  in  the  world,  at  the  spot  where  the  Rhone, 
having  ended  the  first  stage  of  its  course,  escapes  by  the 
gorges  of  the  Valais  to  precipitate  its  mudd}''  waters  into 
the  limpid  azure  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva.  It  was  built  in 
honor  of  the  spot  where  St.  Maurice  and  the  Theban  legion 
suffered  martyrdom,  having  been  stopped  there,  and  prefer- 
ring to  die  rather  than  to  massacre  the  Christians  who  had 
risen  in  the  great  nationalinsurrectionof  the  Bagaudes  against 
the  frightful  oppression  of  Roman  conscriptions  and  taxes.^^^ 
Their  relics  were  collected  there  and  deposited  in  a  church 
more  than  once  crushed  by  the  fall  of  the  rocks,  between  the 
masses  of  which  the  impetuous  stream  with  difficulty  forces  a 
passage.  Agaune  took  and  has  retained  to  the  present  day  the 
name  of  St.  Maurice.^^^  It  was  from  that  time  the  monastic 
metropolisof  the  kingdom  of  Burgundy,so  often  destroyed  and 
so  often  restored.  A  hundred  monks  descended  from  Con- 
dat to  inhabit  it ;  their  former  abbot,  Viveutiole,  then  bishop 
of  Lyons,  assisted  by  his  friend  Avitus,  presided  at  the  cere- 
mony of  inauguration,  and  established,  in  a  discourse  which 
has  been  preserved  to  us,  the  principal  conditions  of  the 
manner  of  life  which  the  brethren  were  to  lead  there.  The 
monks  of  Condat  and  Agaune  followed  for  some  time  the 
same  rule  \'^^^  the  same  mind  and  discipline  thus  reigned  from 

'»'    Vita  S.  Lupicini,  pp.  266,  267. 

'8*  Compare  Act.  SS.  Bolland.,  d.  Sept.  22,  pp.  336,342,  347;  Rett- 
BERG,  Kirchengeschichte  Dautschlands,  vol.  i.  p.  96.  This  last  author  has 
very  justly  characterized  that  insurrection. 

'**  This  abbey,  which  has  belonged  since  the  year  1128  to  the  Regular  Can- 
ons, is  still  in  existence. 

'^"^  Known  as  the  Ride  of  Tarnaie :  this  was  the  ancient  name  of  Agaune, 
which  some  authors  believe  to  have  been  founded  two  centuries  before  Sigis- 
mund,  or  at  least  since  478.  Great  uncertainty,  however,  remains  respecting 
all  lules  prior  to  that  of  St.  Benedict. 


292  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

north  to  south  in  the  Burgundian  dominions.  But  Sigis. 
mund  gave  greater  splendor  to  his  foundation.  By  the  liber- 
ality of  his  gifts,  as  many  as  nine  hundred  monks  could  be 
collected  there,  who,  divided  into  nine  choirs,  sang  alter. 
nately,  and  without  intermission,  the  praises  of  God  and  the 
martvrs.  This  was  called  the  Laus  per ennis,  Q.nd  it  will  be 
seen  that  the  great  Burgundian  monastery  was  not  the  only 
one  from  which  that  tide  of  prayer  gushed  forth,  keeping  no 
silence  night  nor  day.  King  Sigismund  added  himself  to  the 
number  of  this  incessant  choir,  when  he  became  a  monk,  to 
expiate  the  crime  which  he,  like  Constantino,  had  committed 
in  sacrificing  the  son  of  his  first  marriage  to  the  treachery  of 
his    second    wife.     How  he   perished,  with  all   his 

^~~    ■     family,  slain  by  the  son  of  Clovis,  is  well  known. 
The  monk         If,  from  the  Rhone  to  the  Danube,  and  from  Savoy 
erdses\iie'  to  Paunonia,  we  follow  the  Roman  frontier,  at  all 
eiimeas-       points  eucroached  on  and  broken  through,  we  shall 
on  th<'  always  find  monks  at  the  post  of  honor  and  danger, 

the  Dau^       of  devotcduess  and  salvation.      Already  we   have 
"^^-  seen  them  in  conflict  with  the  Goths,  the  Pranks, 

and  the  Burgondes.  Let  us  recognize  them  upon  the  path  of 
the  Germanic  races,  whom  Attila  had  temporarily  drawn  out 
of  their  natural  course,  the  Thuringians,  the  Alemans,  the 
Rugians,  the  Herules,  who  were  about  to  overleap  the  last  ob- 
stacles, and  give  the  last  blow  to  the  phantom  of  the  empire. 
Their  influence  was  speciall}^  apparent  in  the  life  of  Severin, 
written  by  one  of  his  disciples,  and  brought  to  light  in  our  own 
days  by  Ozanam,  a  writer  full  of  charm  and  authority,  who 
scarcely  leavesany  thing  to  be  gleaned  wherever  he  has  passed. 
Severin  had  established  himself  in  Noricum,  in  these 
countries  which  have  since  become  Bavaria  and 
Austria,  and  inhabited  a  monastery  near  the  present  site  of 
Vienna.  He  would  never  disclose  the  place  of  his  birth  ;  but 
his  language  denoted  a  Latin  origin,  and  his  life  proved  that 
he  had  dwelt  long  in  the  monastic  deserts  of  the  East,^*'^  be- 
fore introducing  cenobitical  life  on  the  banks  of  the  Danube. 
Several  centuries  passed,  however,  before  monastic  life  bore 
here  its  full  fruits.  But  to  Severin  remains,  in  the  grateful 
recollection  of  the  people  and  the  Church,  the  merit  of  ita 
beginning. 

A  true  physician   and  shepherd  of  souls,  he  devoted  his 
wonderful  activity  and  treasures  of  courage,  patience,  and 

*"'    Vit.  S.  Severin.,  and.  Edgippio,  ap.  Bolland.,  d.  8  Jan.,  p.  485. 


IN    THE   WEST.  293 

skill,  to  maintain  tlie  faith  in  those  provinces  which  were 
already  almost  entirely  Christian,  to  preserve  tfie  life  and 
goods  of  the  invaded  population,  and  to  convert  the  conquer- 
ing bands  whose  barbarism  was  aggravated  by  the  Arian 
heresy.  He  repeatedly  directed  with  success  the  military  de- 
fence of  Roman  cities  besieged  by  the  Barbarians  :  and  when 
victory  was  declared,  as  it  usually  was,  for  the  latter,  he 
occupied  liimself  with  unwearied  solicitude  in  alleviating  the 
fate  of  the  captives,  in  feeding  and  clothing  them,  Hai'dy  as 
he  was  by  means  of  fast  and  mortification,  he  hungered  when 
they  were  hungry,  and  shivered  when  the  cold  seized  upon 
their  naked  forms,^^^  He  seemed  to  have  inspired  Barbari- 
ans and  Romans,  on  both  banks  of  the  great  river  which  no 
longer  guarded  the  territory  of  the  empire,  with  equal  venera- 
tion, and  the  king  of  the  Aleraans,  subdued  by  the  sight  of 
that  dauntless  charity,  having  offered  him  the  choice  of  any 
favor  he  pleased,  Severin  asked  of  him  to  spare  the  lands  of 
the  Remans  and  set  his  prisoners  at  liberty.  He  held  the 
same  influence  over  the  king  of  the  Rugians,  another  tribe 
which  had  come  from  the  shores  of  the  Baltic  to  establish 
themselves  in  Pannonia.  But  the  wife  of  this  king,  more 
ferocious  than  himself,  and  wildly  heretical  besides,  attempted 
to  deter  her  husband  from  following  the  advice  of  the  abbot, 
and  one  day  when  he  interceded  for  the  poor  Romans  whom 
she  had  sent  into  servitude  beyond  the  Danube,  she  said  to 
him  :  "  Man  of  God,  keep  thyself  calm  to  pray  in  thy  cell,  and 
leave  us  to  do  what  seems  good  to  us  with  our  slaves."  ^"^^ 
But  he  was  unwearied  in  his  efforts,  and  almost  always  ended 
by  triumphing  over  these  savage  yet  still  uncorrupted  souls. 
Feeling  his  end  approach,  he  called  the  king  and  queen  to 
his  deathbed.  After  having  exhorted  the  king  to  remember 
the  reckoning  which  he  should  have  to  render  to  God,  he  put 
his  hand  upon  the  heart  of  the  Barbarian  and  turned  to  the 
queen  :  "  Gisa,"  said  he  '*  lovest  thou  this  soul  better  than 
silver  or  gold  ?  "  And  as  Gisa  protested  that  she  loved  her 
husband  better  than  all  treasures :  "  Well  then,"  said  he 
•'cease  to  oppress  the  just,  lest  their  oppression  be  your 
ruin.     1  entreat  both  of  you  humbly,  at  this  moment  when  1 

""^  "  Stiidiosius  insistebat  Barbarorum  ditione  vexatos  genuinae  restituere 
libertati.  ,  ,  .  Esurie  miserorum  se  credebat  afflictum.  .  .  .  Frigus  quoque 
vir  Dei  tantum  in  nuditate  pauperum  sentiebat." —  Vit.  S.  Severin.,  pp. 
488,  491. 

203  it  Conjux  ferialis  et  noxia,  nomine  Gisa,  ,  .  .  Ora  tibi,  serve  Dei,  in 
cellula  tua  delitescens,  et  liceat  nobis  de  servis  nostris  ordiuare  quod  volu- 
inus,"  —  Ibid.,  p.  488. 

25* 


291  MONASTIC    PKECURSORS 

am  returning  to  my  master,  to  abstain  from  e\il,  and  to  dc 
yourselves  honor  by  your  good  deeds."  The  history  of  in- 
vasions," adds  Ozanam,  "has  many  pathetic  scenes,  but  I 
know  nothing  more  instructive  than  the  death  of  this  old 
Roman,  expiring  between  two  Barbarians,  and  less  moved 
by  the.  ruin  of  the  empire  than  by  the  peril  of  their  souls."  ^o^ 
Meeting  of  But  it  is  his  meeting  with  the  German  chief  who 
wltir'"  was  destined  to  overturn  the  dishonored  throne  of 
odoacer.  i\^q  Roman  emperors,  which  has  specially  preserved 
from  oblivion  the  memory  of  Severin.  Among  the  Barba- 
rians who,  on  their  way  to  Italy,  voluntarily  arrested  their 
course  to  ask  the  benediction  of  the  saint,  in  whom  they  in- 
stinctively honored  a  greatness  born  to  survive  all  that  they 
were  about  to  destroy,  came  one  day  a  young  Herule,  poorly 
clad,  but  of  noble  race,  and  so  tall  tliat  he  had  to  stoop  his 
head  to  enter  the  cell  of  the  monk.  "  Go,"  said  Severin  to 
him. '-go  to  Italy;  now  thou  wearest  but  sorry  furs,  but 
shortly  thou  shalt  be  able  to  make  gifts."  This  young  man 
was  Odoacer.  At  the  head  of  the  Thuringians  and  Herules,  he 
^,g  took  possession  of  Rome,  sent  Romulus  Augustulus 
to  die  in  exile,  and,  without  condescending  to  make 
himself  emperor,  was  content  to  remain  master  of  Italy.  In 
the  midst  of  his  conquest,  he  remembered  the  prediction  of 
the  Roman  monk  whom  he  had  left  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Danube,  and  wrote  to  him.  desiring  him  to  ask  all  that  he 
would.  Severin  took  advantage  of  this  to  obtain  the  pardon 
of  an  exile.^*^^ 

It  is  pleasant  to  see  this  sweet  and  holy  memory  hovering 
over  the  catastrophe  which  terminates  the  shameful  annals 
of  old  Rome,  enslaved  and  degraded  under  her  vile  Caesars, 
and  which  opens  the  history  of  modern  Europe. 

Position  Thus,  from  the  middle  of  the   fifth  century,  the 

cenobltioai    ccnobitical  institution,  proceeding  from  the  Thebaid, 
inRtituHon    has  occupicd  ono  bv  one  all  the  provinces  of  the  Ro- 

at  tlio  end  T  "  n     i        p  • 

of  the  fifth    man  empire,  and  encamped  upon  all  the  irontiers  to 
century.       await  and  win  the  Barbarians. 

The  immense  services  which  this  institution  has  rendered 

'"''»  Etudes  Germaniques,  t.  ii.  p.  42,  ed.  of  1849. 

20S  II  Duni  se,  ne  humile  tectum  oellulae  suo  vertice  contingeret,  inolinaret. 
.  .  .  Vade  ad  Italiani,  vilissimis  nunc  pellibus  coopertus,  sed  multis  cite 
plurima  largiturus.  .  .  .  Familiares  litteras  dirigens  .  .  .  memor  illius  prae* 
sagii.  .  .  .  Ambrogium  quenidam  exulantem  rogat  absolvi."  —  Vit.  S.  Set., 
p.  494.  Compare  Leo,  Ursprung  und  Werden  des  Deutschen  EeichSi 
p.  320. 


IN    THE    WEST.  295 

to  the  Church,  the  new  and  necessary  force  which  it  has  lent 
to  society,  fainting  between  the  avenging  embrace  of  the 
Germans,  and  the  despicable  languor  of  expiring  imperialism, 
may  be  already  appreciated. 

The  monks  were  from  that  period  the  direct  instruments, 
after  the  papacy,  of  the  salvation  and  honor  of  Europe.  They 
rendered  her  capable  of  that  gigantic  and  supernatural  effort 
against  the  inveterate  paganism  of  the  old  world  and  the  im- 
petuous current  of  the  northern  invaders.  Contemporaries 
themselves  perceived  it :  no  one  disputed  the  solemn  testi- 
mony of  the  priest  Rufinus,  who  was  not  himself  a  monk,  but 
who  had  long  studied  and  observed  them:  "There  is  no 
doubt  that  without  these  humble  penitents  the  world  could 
not  have  retained  its  existence."  ^'^'^ 

Everything  around  them  was  calculated  to  sow  ggrvkes 
terror  and  despair.     On  one  side,  the  savage  hordes   ^^"^,^'^®'^ 
of  a  hundred  hostile  nations  filled  Gaul,  Italy,  Spain,  mouksto 
Illyria,  Africa,  all  the  provinces  in  their  turn,  with  ^odety'*'^ 
blood  and  horror  :  and  after  Alaric,  Genseric,  and  [|j"r,|"i^n'o^f 
Attila,  a  well-founded  presentiment  of  the  final  fall  the  iiar- 
of  Rome  and  the  Empire  increased  in  all  hearts  every 
day.     On  the  other  hand,  Arianism,  with  its  implacable  and 
multiplied  obstinacy,    and    the   many    heresies    which    suc- 
ceeded each  other  without  intermission,  rent  the   Church, 
disturbed  consciences,  and  made  men  believe  in°a  universal 
overturn.     When  the  judgments  of  God  appeared  in  the  be- 
ginning of  the  fifth  century,  the  world  lost  its  senses.     Some 
plunged  into  debauchery  to  enjoy  like  brutes  the  last  rem- 
nant of  happiness  ;  others  sank  into  incurable  melancholy. 

The  lovers  of  solitude,  the  men  of  penitence,  sacrifice,  and 
voluntary  humiliation,  alone  knew  how  to  live,  hope,  resist, 
and  stand  fast.  To  those  who  reproach  the  monkish  spirit 
with  enervating,  debasing,  and  making  sluggards  of  men,  lef 
it  suffice  to  recall  what  monks  were  in  these  days  of  desola- 
tion and  despair.  They  alone  showed  themselves  equal  to 
all  necessities  and  above  all  terrors.  Human  courage  has 
never  been  more  tried  than  among  the  monks ;  it  has  never 
displayed  greater  resources  nor  more  constancy  :  it  has  never 
ehowed  itself  more  manful  and  unshakable. 

They  opposed  to  the  successive  waves  of  the  Barbaric  in- 
vasion  an  insurmountable  barrier  of  virtue,  courage,  patience, 
and  genius ;  and,  when  all  external  resistance  was  found  im- 

aoa  u  ut  dubitari  non  debeat  ipsorura  meritis  adhuc  stare  mundum."  -•  Ri  F 
FiNi,  Prolog,  in  Vit-  Pair.,  lib.  ii. 


296  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

possible  and  useless,  it  was  found  that  they  had  formed,  foi 
all  the  germs  of  civilization  and  the  future,  shelters  which 
the  floods  might  pass  over  without  ingulfing  them.  In  the 
midst  of  that  deluge  which  annihilated  Roman  Europe  and 
the  ancient  world,  they  concentrated  themselves  in  a  high 
and  pure  sphere,  which  was  destined  to  survive  all  that 
chaos,  and  from  which  life  was  to  descend  upon  a  new  world. 

Their  courage  was  only  surpassed  by  their  charity,  by  their 
tender  and  inexhaustible  compassion  for  all  the  miseries  with 
which  they  saw  the  world  overwhelmed.  They  loved  their 
neighbors  passionately,  because  they  loved  God  more  than 
themselves.  They  drew  the  secret  of  this  love  and  super- 
natural force  from  Christian  self-renunciation,  from  the  volun- 
tary expiation  of  their  own  faults  and  the  faults  of  others.  In 
opposing  poverty,  chastity,  and  obedience,  the  three  eternal 
bases  of  monastic  life,  to  the  orgies  of  wealth,  debauchery, 
and  pride,  they  created  at  once  a  contrast  and  a  remedy.  In 
sacrificing  by  a  spirit  of  mortification,  all  pei-mitted  privileges, 
marriage,  propert}',  and  the  free  disposition  of  their  time  and 
their  life,  they  became  the  guardians  and  saviours  of  those 
who  justly  desired  to  retain  these  legitimate  possessions,  and 
Avho  saw  them  exposed,  in  so  desperate  a  condition  of  society, 
to  irremediable  outrages. 

But  let  us  not  mistake  regarding  this.  They  never  dreamt 
of  making  that  exceptional  life  the  common  rule.  They 
knew  that  it  could  only  be  the  privilege  of  certain  souls, 
more  entirely  penetrated  than  the  rest  by  the  blood  of  the 
Saviour.  They  did  not  assume  to  impose  their  evangelical 
counsels  as  precepts  upon  all.  They  remained  faithful  to  the 
interpretation  of  the  sacred  text,  which  has  never  varied 
from  the  first  popes  until  now.  Their  leaders  always  resisted 
the  excesses  of  intemperate  zeal  in  the  Gnostics  and  others, 
who  would  have  rendered  obligatory  upon  all  that  which  was 
only  possible  for  some.  Doubtless,  certain  events,  certain 
lives,  might  be  quoted  which  seem  to  lean  towards  excess: 
but  there  are  excesses  inseparable  from  the  force  and  vigor 
of  all  great  movements  of  the  soul,  and  which  only  serve  to 
reveal  the  existence  of  a  vital  and  fertile  current.  In  their 
hearts,  and  on  the  whole,  they  remained  sheltered  from  all 
unregulated  exaltation,  firmly  attached  to  apostolic  traditions 
and  the  infallible  prudence  of  the  Church.  They  had  no 
tendency,  such  as  they  have  been  accused  of  having,  to 
transform  the  entire  universe  into  a  cloister :  they  desired 
only  to  create  and  maintain,  by  the  side  of  the  storms  and 


IN    THE    WEST.  297 

failures  of  the  world,  the  home,  the  refuge,  and  the  school  of 
a  peace  and  strength  superior  to  the  world. 

This  was  the  cause  of  their  powerful  action  upon  the 
world  from  that  period.  In  vain  had  they  fled  from  men,  for 
men  followed  them.  All  the  good  heart,  high  mind,  and 
clear  intellect,  which  remained  in  this  fallen  society,  rallied 
round  the  monks,  as  if  to  escape  from  universal  ruin.  Their 
spirit  breathed  from  the  depths  of  the  deserts  upon  towns, 
upon  schools,  and  even  upon  palaces,  to  light  them  again  with 
some  gleams  of  vigor  and  intehigence.  The  distracted  peo- 
ple sought  them,  listened  to  them,  and  admired  them,  though 
understanding  them  little,  and  imitating  them  still  less.  But 
their  existence  alone  was  the  most  energetic  protest  against 
pagan  materialism,  which  had  ended  by  depraving  all  souls, 
and  by  undermining  the  social  constitution  of  the  Old  World. 
They  awoke  in  man  all  those  intellectual  and  moral  forces 
which  could  aid  him  to  strive  against  the  unheard  of  calami- 
ties of  the  time.  They  taught  him  to  struggle  against  that 
empire  of  sensuality  which  was  to  be  so  painfully  expiated 
under  the  yoke  of  the  Barbarians.  They  showed  him  at 
once  the  road  to  heaven  and  that  of  the  future  in  this  world, 
the  sole  future  possible  to  these  long-enervated  races,  a  re- 
generation by  suffering,  voluntarily  accepted  and  courageous- 
ly endured. 

They  did  not  limit  themselves  to  prayer  and  penitence: 
they  spoke,  they  wrote  much  ;  and  their  masculine  genius, 
their  young  and  fresh  inspiration,  prevented  the  new  Chris- 
tian world  from  falling  back  from  its  first  advances,  either  by 
literature  or  politics,  under  the  yoke  of  exhausted  paganism. 
The  Fathers  trained  in  the  school  of  monastic  life  preserved 
the  public  mind,  in  these  ages  of  transition,  from  the  danger 
which  it  ran  of  allowing  itself  to  be  overborne  and  taken  advan- 
tage of  by  scholars,  elegant,  but  puerile  and  behind  the  age, 
whose  dream  was  the  reconstruction  of  a  society  which 
should  find  types  in  the  pagan  authors,  such  as  Ausonius  and 
Symmachus,  and  have  for  its  heads  and  emperors  apostates 
or  Arians,  such  as  Julian  and  Valens. 

Among  the  populations  degraded  by  the  imperial  yoke, 
the  monks  represented  freedom  and  dignity,  activity  and  labor. 
These  were,  above  all,  free  men  who,  after  having  divested 
themselves  of  their  patrimonial  possessions,  lived  less  by 
alms  than  by  the  produce  of  their  labor,  and  who  thus  enno- 
bled the  hardest  toils  of  the  earth  before  the  eyes  of  that 
degenerate  Roman  world  in  which  agriculture  was  almost 


298  MONASTIC    PRECURSORS 

exclusive!}^  the  portion  of  slaves.207  They  alone  recalled  ta 
the  world  the  noble  days  of  Cincinnatus,  the  dictator  who 
was  taken  from  the  plough  ! 

How  St.  Augustine  repressed  the  criminal  folly  of  those 
who  would  have  substituted  a  pious  idleness  for  that  labor 
which  the  first  Fathers  of  the  desert  gave  so  glorious  an  ex- 
ample of,  and  which  all  monks  continue  to  practise  with  an 
unwearied  zeal,  has  been  seen.  Thanks  to  them,  and  despite 
the  ravages  of  the  Barbarians  and  the  indifference  of  the 
Romans,  the  lands  of  Egypt,  Africa,  and  Italy,  the  most  fer- 
tile and  longest  cultivated  in  the  world,  retained  some  traces 
of  their  ancient  fruitfulness,  till  the  time  when  the  monks 
were  to  go  to  clear  the  countries  which  had  been  until  then 
bej'ond  the  reach  of  all  cultivation. 

They  are  ^^^  ^^^®  Church  claimed  them  still  more  strongly 

still  re-  '  than  the  world.  In  their  origin,  despite  the  tonsure 
faymraf^  and  the  black  robes  which  distinguished  them  from 
forVpa^rt*  hxymeu,  mouks  formed  no  part  of  the  clergy,  and 
of  the  were    not  reckoned   among   ecclesiastical  persons. 

St.  Jerome,  in  several  passages  of  his  writings,  de- 
clares that  the  monks  ought  to  be  like  other  laymen,  submis- 
sive and  respectful  not  only  to  the  priests,  but  also  to  all  the 
members  of  the  clerical  profession.  They  then  formed  a  sort 
of  intermediate  bod}'-  between  the  clergy  and  the  faithful, 
like  a  formidable  reserve  of  trained  Christians.-^^  The  secu- 
lar clergy  were  to  see  in  them  an  ideal  which  it  was  not 
given  to  all  to  attain,  but  the  presence  of  which  alone 
constituted  a  check  upon  any  falling  away  of  the  ministers 
of  the  Lord.209  From  the  depths  of  their  solitude,  at  Nitria 
as  at  Lerins,  they  also  mixed  actively  in  all  the  great  contro- 
versies which  diffuse  so  much  life  through  the  history  of  the 
fourth  and  fifth  centuries.  They  were  always  found  in  the 
first  rank  of  the  armies  of  orthodoxy.  In  vain  had  their  first 
founders  endeavored  to  interdict  them  from  accepting  ecclesi- 
astical dignities,2io  qj.  even  holy  orders.  From  the  earliest 
times  they  were  drawn  forcibly  from  their  retreats  to  be  or- 
dained priests  and  bishops  by  the  voice  of  the  people,  and 
by   the  enlightened  choice  of  pastors  such  as  Athanasius. 

'"^^  Compare  Michelet.  Ilistoire  de  France,  vol.  i.  lib.  1,  c.  3. 

""^  A  passage  in  the  life  of  St.  Basil  shows  this  distinction  between  the 
clergy  and  niordcs  :  "  Mane  facto,  convocato  tain  venerabili  clero  quam  mon- 
Bsteriis  et  onini  Christo  amahilipDpulo,  dixit  eis,"  &c.  — Ajiphilochii  Episc 
TcoNii,   Vit.  S.  Basilii,  c.  8,  ap.  Koswevde. 

*'"'  Moehler,  Geschichte  des  Hlovclithums,  p.  9 

*'^  St.  Pacome  formally  forbade  it  in  hia  rule. 


IN   THE   WEST.  299 

Tlie  number  of  priests  in  their  ranks  soon  increased,   nowover, 
from  winch  came  the  greatest  bishops  of  Christen-  "i^eFathers 
dom,  Basii.  Chrysostom,  Augustine,  and  Martin  of  anfi  fioctoi i 

'_•/  -,'  of  the 

Tours.  This  has  not  been  suiBciently  attended  to  ;  cimreh 
the  Fathers  of  tlie  Church,  the  great  doctors  of  that  F^mthefr 
primitive  age,  all,  or  almost  all,  proceeded  out  of  the  "■•■»"ks. 
monastic  ranks.  Excepting  St.  Hilary  of  Poitiers,  St.  Am- 
brose, and  St.  Leo  the  Great,  all  the  other  Fathers  and  all  the 
doctors  of  these  two  centuries  were  monks,  or  trained  in 
monasteries.  We  have  already  reckoned  among  them  tlie 
four  great  doctors  of  the  Eastern  Church,  Athanasius,  Basil, 
Chrysostom,  and  Gregory  of  Nazianzus  ;  and  in  the  Western 
Church,  St.  Jerome,  St.  Augustine,  St.  Fulgentius,  Sulpicius 
Severus,  Vincent  of  Lerins,  John  Cassianus,  Salvian,  St. 
Csesarius  of  Aries,  and  afterwards  St.  Gregory  the  Great. 
No  literature  offers  to  the  admiration  of  men  greater  names 
than  these.  Their  writings  remain  the  arsenal  of  theology. 
They  have  presided  over  the  development  of  doctrine  and  all 
the  primitive  history  of  the  faith.  That  alone  should  be 
enough  to  assure  an  ever  glorious  place  to  the  monastic 
order  in  the  annals  of  the  Church  and  the  world.  But  it  was 
not  destined  to  stop  there.  Its  part  was  only  beginning.  For 
a  thousand  years  longer  none  of  the  great  names  of  the 
Church  shall  be  strangers  to  it ;  for  a  thousand  years  it  shall 
inscribe  its  name  at  the  head  of  all  the  great  pages  of  his- 
tory. 

But  at  the  period  of  which  we  speak,  the  monks  were  no* 
the  first,  but  the  only,  strong  and  great.  Under  a  sway 
which  united  excess  of  license  with  excess  of  servitude, 
amidst  political  abjectness  and  social  decrepitude,  they  alone 
were  found  worthy,  pure,  and  intrepid,  the  sole  orators, 
writers  —  in  a  word,  the  only  men  who  preserved  an  inde- 
pendent standing.  Thus  they  crossed  the  immense  remnant 
of  enslaved  nations,  and  marched  with  a  tranquil  and  steady 
step  to  the  conquest  of  the  future. 

In  this  new  world  which  began  to  dawn,  they  re-   ^he  monks 
placed  two  wonderful    phenomena   of  the  ancient  replaced 
world  —  the  slaves  and  the  martyrs  :  the  slaves,  by  and  tiie 
their  indefatigable  activity  and  heroic  patience  ;  the  "'^''^y"- 
martyrs,  by  a  living  tradition  of  self-devotion  and  sacrifice. 
The  long  struggle  which  had  vanquished  the  Roman  empire 
without  transforming  it,  was  then  to  be  continued  under  other 
names  and   other  forms,  but  with  the  same  power  and  suc- 
cess.   An  instinctive  consciousness  of  this  glorious  succession 


300  MONASTIC   PRECURSORS 

must  Lave  existed  in  the  mind  of  the  unknown  writer  who 
commenced  the  biography  of  a  Gallo-lloman  monk  of  the  sixth 
century  with  these  words :  "  After  the  glorious  combats  of 
the  m.artyrs,  let  us  celebrate  the  mei'its  of  the  confessors  ; 
for  they  also  have  conquered  and  lived  only  for  Christ,  and 
to  them  death  has  been  gain;  they  have  also  become  heirs 
of  the  heavenly  Jerusalem.  Now  the  camps  and  citadels  of 
the  soldiers  of  Christ  shine  everywhere.  Now  the  King  of 
heaven  proclaims  everywhere  the  titles  and  extends  the 
glory  of  these  numerous  athletes,  whose  inanimate  ashes 
triumph  still  over  the  enemy  of  the  human  race."  ^^^ 
Abuses  and  Let  US,  howcver,  be  on  our  guard  against  a  blind 
disorders,  euthusiasm  and  partial  admiration.  Shadows  were 
not  wanting  to  this  picture,  nor  blots  in  this  light. 

The  monks  were  not  always  nor  everywhere  without  re- 
proach. All  contemporary  chronicles  prove  that  from  that 
time  a  considerable  number  of  men,  strangers  to  the  true 
spirit  of  the  monastic  condition,  stole  in  among  them,  not  to 
speak  of  those  whom  the  desire  to  escape  slavery  or  famine 
drove  into  their  ranks.  We  are  obliged  to  admit  that,  even 
in  this  period  of  robust  and  glorious  youth,  disorders  and 
abuses  infected  the  monasteries.  But  from  the  first  these 
were  denounced,  reprimanded,  and  stigmatized  by  the  most 
illustrious  among  the  cenobites  or  apologists  of  the  monastic 
institution,  St.  Jerome,  St.  John  Chrysostom,  and  St.  Augus- 
tine. The  greatest  and  most  serious  of  these  disorders,  that 
which  was  most  repugnant  to  the  fundamental  spirit  of  the 
institution,  and  at  the  same  time  that  which  threatened  to 
increase  with  the  greatest  rapidity,  in  spite  of  the  severe 
decrees  of  the  Council  of  Chalcedon,^^^  was  the  passion  for 
change  and  motion  which  drew  bands  of  monks  to  the  great 
roads  and  public  places  of  the  empire,  there  to  give  them- 
selves up  to  all  kinds  of  unwonted  and  boisterous  demonstra- 
tions. Under  the  name  of  3Iessalians  or  of  Gyrovagues,  they 
Gyro-  passed   their  life  in  wandering  from  province    to 

vagues.  province,  from  cell  to  cell,  remaining  onl}'-  three  or 
four  days  in  one  place,  living  on  alms  extorted  from  the  faith' 
ful,  who  were  often  scandalized  by  their  bad   morals,  always 

211  <4  Post  gloriosos  igitur  agones  martyrum,  praeclara  recoluimus  confes- 
soruin  nierita.  Ecce  autem  undique  resplendens  castra  militura  Christi : 
ubique  rex  ille  singulares  titulos  ntartjTum  et  confessorum  suorum  defixit, 
per  quorum  etiam  exanimatoscineres  de  hoste  humani  generis  triuniphat  .  .  . 
inter  numerosa  agmina  athletarum."  —  Prolog.  Vit.  S.  Launomari,  ap.  Act 
8S.  0.  S,  B.,  t.  C,  p.  339. 

**^  See  before,  page  219. 


IN   THE    WEST.  301 

wandering  and  never  stable,  enslaved  to  their  passions  and 
to  all  the  excesses  of  conviviality  ;  in  short,  according  to  the 
testimony  of  the  greatest  of  monks,  living  such  a  life  that  it 
was  better  to  keep  silence  than  to  speak  of  it.^is 

Others  existed  elsewhere,  named  in  the  Egyptian  lan- 
guage Sarabaites,  and  who,  to  quote  again  the  testi-  g^^j^^aYtes. 
mony  of  the  reformer  whose  strongest  laws  were 
intended  for  their  defeat,  carried  the  stamp  of  the  world  into 
the  cell,  "  like  molten  lead,  and  not  like  gold  tried  in  the 
furnace."  They  lived  two  or  three  together,  without  rule  or 
leader,  caring  only  for  their  own  flocks,  and  not  for  the 
sheep  of  the  Lord,  taking  their  own  desires  and  enjoyments 
as  a  law,  declaring  holy  all  that  they  thought  and  preferred, 
and  holding  all  that  displeased  them  as  prohibited.^^* 

These  unworthy  monks,  "  whose  shaven  heads  lied   Muitipii- 
to  God,"  215  found  encouragement  for  their  wander-  dilSy  oi 
ing  and  disorderly  life  in  the  absence  of  any  uniform  '■"•<^^- 
rule  or  legislation  imposed  and  approved  by  the  Church, 

Most  of  the  great  leaders  of  the  cenobitical  institution  had, 
since  St.  Pacome,  made  out,  under  the  name  of  Rule,  instruc- 
tions and  constitutions  for  the  use  of  their  immediate  disci- 
ples ;  but  none  of  these  works  had  acquired  an  extensive  or 
lasting  sway .216  In  the  East,  it  is  true,  the  rule  of  St.  Basil 
had  prevailed  in  a  multitude  of  monasteries,  yet  notv^7ith- 
standing  Cassianus,  in  visiting  Egypt,  Palestine,  and  Meso- 
potomia,  found  there  almost  as  many  different  rules  as  there 
were  monasteries.^i?  In  the  West,  the  diversity  was  still 
more  strange.  Each  man  made  for  himself  his  own  rule  and 
discipline,  taking  his  authority  from  the  writings  or  example 
of  the  Eastern  Fathers.^is  The  Gauls  especially  exclainaed 
against  the  extreme  rigor  of  the  fasts  and  abstinences,  which 

'^'^  "Tota  vita  sua  per  diversas  provincias  ternis  aut  quaternis  diebus  per 
diversarum  cellas  hospitantur,  semper  vagi,  et  nunquatn  stabiles,  sed  propriis 
voluptatibus  et  gulae  illecebris  servientes,  et  per  omnia  deteriores  Sarabaltls: 
de  quorum  omnium  miserrima  conversione  melius  est  silere  quam  loqui."  — 
Reg.  S.  Bened.,  c.  1. 

■^"'  "  Monacliorum  teterrimum  genus  est  Sarabalftarum.  qui  nulla  regula 
approbati,  experientia  magistri,  sicut  aurum  Ibrnacis,  sed  in  plumbi  natura 
niolliii  adhuc  operibus  servantes  seculo  fidem  .  .  .  non  dominicis,  sed  suis 
inciusi  ovilibns,  pro  lege  eis  est  desideriorum  voluptas  .  .  ."  —  Ibid. 

sia  44  Mentiri  Deo  per  tonsuram  noscuntur."  —  Ibid. 

'■""  Those  wbo  desire  to  have  an  idea  of  these  premature  and  partial  efforts 
have  only  to  consult  tlie  Disquisitiones  MonasticcB  of  P.  H^ften,  lib,  i.  tract. 
3,  4,  and  5;  Anvers,  1644,  folio. 

'"'  '■  Tot  propemodum  typos  ae  regulas  usurpatas  vidimus,  quot  monastena 
cellasque  conspexiraus."  —  Cassian.,  InstH.,  lib.  ii.  c.  2. 

^18  See  before,  the  example  of  St.  John,  founder  of  Reome,  p,283,  note  ITtt 

VOL.  I.  26 


302  MONASTIC   PRECUESOKS 

might  be  suitable  under  a  fervid  sky  like  that  of  Egypt  or 
Syria,  but  which  could  not  be  endured  by  what  they  already 
called  GalUcan  weakness  ;^^^  and  even  in  the  initial  fervor  of 
the  monasteries  of  the  Jura,  they  had  succeeded  in  imposing 
a  necessary  medium  upon  their  chiefs.  Here,  it  was  the 
changing  will  of  an  abbot ;  there,  a  written  rule;  elsewhere, 
the  traditions  of  the  elders,  which  determined  tlie  order  of 
conventual  life.  In  some  houses  various  rules  were  prac- 
tised at  the  same  time,  according  to  the  inclination  of  the 
inhabitants  of  each  cell,  and  were  changed  according  to  the 
times  and  places.  They  passed  thus  from  excessive  austerity 
to  laxness,  and  conversely,  according  to  the  liking  of  each.^"*^ 
Uncertainty  and  instability  were  everywhere. 
Themonas-  ^®  havo,  therefore,  committed  a  sort  of  anach- 
tioinstitu-     rouism   in    speaking,  up   to  this   point,  though  in 

tion  was  „  .  •ii°i  /.    ^  " 

notconsti-  contormity  With  the  language  oi  contemporary  au- 
thors, of  the  monastic  order.  A  general  arrange- 
ment was  precisely  what  was  most  wanting  in  monastic  life. 
There  were  an  immense  number  of  monks  ;  there  had  been 
among  them  saints  and  illustrious  men ;  but  to  speak  truly, 
the  monastic  order  had  still  no  existence.^^ 

Even  where  the  rule  of  St,  Basil  had  acquired  the  neces- 
sary degree  of  establishment  and  authority  —  that  is  to  say, 
in  a  considerable  portion  of  the  East  —  the  giftof  fertility  was 
denied  to  it.  The  distinctive  character  of  the  institutions 
and  creeds  of  the  East  —  which,  after  a  first  impulse,  last 
without  increasing,  and  remain  stationary  for  ages,  like  trees 
planted  in  the  shade  which  have  roots  but  no  fruit,  and 
vegetate  indefinitely  without  either  rise  or  extension  — 
might  be  remarked  in  it  from  that  time. 

In  the  West  also,  towards  the  end  of  the  fifth  century,  tho 
cenobitical  institution  seemed  to  have  fallen  into  the  torpor 
and  sterility  of  the  East.  After  St.  Jerome,  who  died  in  420, 
and  St.  Augustine,  who  died  in  430,  after  the  Fathers  of 
Lerins,  whose  splendor  paled  towards  450,  there  was  a  kind 
of  eclipse.  Condat  still  shone  alone  upon  its  heights  of  the 
Jura  up  to  the  beginning  of  the  sixth  century;  but  illustri- 

*'^  '•  Ista  pro  qualitate  loci  et  instantia  laboris  invicta,  potius  quam  Orienta- 
liuni  perficere  affectainus,  quia  procul  dubio  efflcacius  haec  faciliusque  natura 
vel  infirmitas  exequitur  infirmitas  Gallicana." —  Vit.  S.  Eugend.,  n.  2i.  Com- 
pare witli  the  previous  narrative  of  the  protestations  against  the  fasts  imposed 
by  Sulpicius  Severus  on  liis  Gallic  monks. 

^-^  Mabillon,  Prcef.  in  scec.  I.  Benedict.  ;  H^ften,  loc.  ci'.. ,  D.  Pitha, 
Hist,  de  S.  Leger,  Introduct.,  p.  Iv. 

**'  Compare  Dom  Pitra,  Ioc.  cit.,  p.  liii. 


IN    THE    WEST.  303 

ons  cenobites  brilliant]}'  occupying  the  first  rank  in  the 
polemics  and  developments  of  Christian  life,  were  no  longer 
to  be  seen  as  formerh.  Except  in  Ireland  and  Gaul,  where, 
in  most  of  the  provinces,  some  new  foundations  rose,  a 
general  interruption  was  observable  in  the  extension  of  the 
institution,  whether  because  the  final  triumph  of  the  Bar- 
barian invasion  had  stifled  for  a  time  the  efforts  of  zeal,  and 
troubled  the  fountain  of  lite  at  which  these  victorious  races 
M'ere  to  assuage  their  thirst,  or  that  intervals  of  apparent  in- 
action are  necessary  to  the  creations  of  Christian  genius  as 
to  the  forces  of  nature,  in  order  to  prepare  them  for  the 
decisive  evolutions  of  their  destiny. 

If  this  eclipse  had  lasted,  the  history  of  the  monks  of  the 
West  would  only  have  been,  like  that  of  the  Eastern  monks, 
a  sublime  but  brief  passage  in  the  annals  of  the  Church, 
instead  of  being  their  longest  and  best-filled  page. 

This  was  not  to  be :  but  to  keep  the  promises  which  the 
monastic  order  had  made  to  the  Church  and  to  the  new- 
born Christendom,  it  needed  at  the  beginning  of  the  sixth 
century,  a  new  and  energetic  impulse,  such  as  would  con- 
centrate and  discipline  so  many  scattered,  irregular,  and 
intermittent  forces  ;  a  uniform  and  universally  accepted  rule  ; 
a  legislator  inspired  by  the  fertile  and  glorious  past,  to 
establish  and  govern  the  future.  God  provided  for  that 
necessity  by  sending  St.  Benedict  into  the  world. 


BOOK    IV. 

ST.   BENEDICT. 

SUMMARY. 

State  of  Europe  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  century :  debased  by  the  Empire,  di- 
vided by  heresy,  and  ravaged  by  the  invasions  of  the  Barbarians.  —  St. 
Benedict  was  born  in  480,  and  went  into  seclusion  at  Subiaco,  the  cradle  of 
monastic  life.  —  His  trials.  —  His  miracles.  —  His  departure  for  Monte 
Cassino  :  he  founds  there  the  principal  sanctuary  of  the  monastic  order.  — 
Note  on  the  description  and  history  of  Monte  Cassino.  —  Life  at  Cassino.  — 
Relations  with  the  nobility.  —  Solicitude  for  the  people.  —  Influence  over 
the  Goths.  —  History  of  Galla.  —  Interview  with  Totila.  —  The  Lombards. 

—  St.  Scholastica.  —  Death  of  Benedict.  —  Analysis  of  his  rule:  the  first 
made  for  the  West.  —  Preamble.  —  Two  dominant  ideas.  —  Work.  —  Obe- 
dience qualilied  by  the  nature  and  origin  of  the  command.  —  Analogy  with 
the  feudal  system.  —  Conditions  of  the  community  thus  organized.  —  Abdi- 
cation of  individual  property.  —  Novitiate.  —  Vow  of  stability.  —  Roman 
wisdom  and  moderation.  —  Analysis  of  the  details.  —  Liturgy.  —  Food.  — 
Clothing.  —  Penalties.  —  Services.  — Hospitality.  —  The  sick.  —  Summary 
of  the  rule  by  Bossuet.  —  Benedict's  vision  of  the  world  in  a  single  ray. 

—  He  did  not  foresee  the  social  results  of  his  work.  —  Immensity  of  these 
results.  —  The  world  is  reconquered  from  the  Barbarians  by  the  monks. 


.  .  .  Gli  occhi  dirizzai 
E  vidi  cento  sperule  ch'  insieme 
Piu  s'  abellivan  con  mutui  rai. 

lo  stava  come  quei  ch'  in  se  repreme 
La  punla  del  disio  e  non  s'  attenta 
Di  dimandar,  si  del  troppo  si  teme. 

E  la  maggiore  e  la  piii  luculenta 
Di  quelle  margherite  innanzi  fessi 
Per  far  di  se  la  mia  voglia  content*. 

Faradiso,  c.  xxii. 

I.  — HIS    LIFE. 

St.  Benedict  was  born  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  480.  Eu- 
rope has  perhaps  never  known  a  more  calamitous  or  appar- 
ently desperate  period  than  that  which  reached  its  climax  at 
this  date. 

26*  305 


306  ST.  BENEDICT. 

State  of  Confusion,   corruption,  despair,  and  deatli    were 

Europeat     everywhere:    social  dismemberment   seemed    com- 

the  end  of  i        '  .      ,i        •,  i       i  •  .  i- 

the  fifth  plete.  Authority,  morals,  laws,  sciences,  arts,  reh- 
century.  ^.-^^  herself,  might  have  been  supposed  condemned 
to  irremediable  ruin.  The  germs  of  a  splendid  and  approach- 
ing revival  were  still  hidden  from  all  eyes  under  the  ruins 
of  a  crumbling  world.  The  Church  was  more  than  ever  in- 
fected  by  heresy,  schisms,  and  divisions,  which  the  obscure 
successors  of  St.  Leo  the  Great  in  the  Holy  See  endeavored 
in  vain  to  repress.  In  all  the  ancient  Roman  world  there 
did  not  exist  a  prince  who  was  not  either  a  pagan,  an  Arian, 
or  a  Eutychian.  The  monastic  institution,  after  having  given 
so  many  doctors  and  saints  to  the  Church  in  the  East,  was 
drifting  toward  that  descent  which  it  never  was  doomed  to 
reascend  ;  and  even  in  the  West,  as  has  just  been  seen,  some 
symptoms  of  premature  decay  had  already  appeared.  Thus, 
indeed,  the  monks  gave  too  often  an  example  of  disorder  and 
scandal  as  well  as  the  rest  of  the  clergy. 

In  temporal  aifairs,  the  political  edifice  originated  by 
Augustus  — .that  monster  assemblage  of  two  hundred  mil- 
lions of  human  creatures,  "  of  whom  not  a  single  individual 
was  entitled  to  call  himself  free  "  —  was  crumbling  into  dust 
under  the  blows  of  the  Barbarians. 

In  the  West,  the  last  imperial  phantom  had  just  disap- 
peared. Odoacer,  the  chief  of  the  Herules,  had  snatched  the 
purple  of  the  Ceesars  from  the  shoulders  of  Augustulus  in 
476,  but  disdained  himself  to  put  it  on.  He  had  succeeded 
in  filling  up  the  sink  of  pollution  which  called  itself  the  Ro- 
man Empire,  and  in  which,  for  five  centuries,  the  glory  and 
strength  of  ancient  Rome,  and  the  blood  and  substance  of  the 
world  conquered  by  her  arms,  had  been  consumed.  But 
Italy,  though  delivered  from  that  oppressive  fiction,  remained 
a  prey  to  successive  floods  of  Barbarians.  Already  ravaged 
by  Alaric  and  Attila,  she  had  not  enjoyed  a  breathing-time 
under  the  momentary  shelter  of  the  genius  of  Theodoric. 

In  the  East,  two  theological  tyrants  disputed  the  dis- 
honored throne  of  Constantinople.  One  of  these,  Basilicus, 
had  found  five  hundred  bishops  to  subscribe  the  anathema 
which  he  launched  against  the  pope  and  the  orthodox  Council 
of  Chalcedon :  the  other,  Zeno,  authorized  heresy  in  his 
odicts  ;  1  he  exhausted  with  his  spoliations  and  debaucheries 

'  The  Henoticnm,  or  edict  of  union,  published  in  482,  in  opposition  to  the 
Council  of  Chalcedon,  where  the  heresy  of  Eutychus,  who  held  the  divinity 
and  hunianitj  yf  our  Lord  to  be  the  same  nature,  had  been  condemned. 


ST.  BENEDICT.  307 

the  nations  whom  he  did  not  even  attempt  to  defend  against 
the  Barbarians.  Thus  commenced  a  period  of  miserable  and 
sanguinary  disputes,  which  lasted,  without  intermission,  for 
thirt3'-four  years,  until  the  advent  of  the  predecessor  of  Jus- 
tinian.2 

In  the  other  parts  of  Europe,  the  Barbarians  founded  states 
and  kingdofjns,  some  of  which  were  destined  to  be  not  with- 
out distinction,  but  of  which  not  one  belonged  even  to  the 
Catholic  faith. 

German}"  was  still  entirely  pagan,  as  was  alsc  Great  Bri- 
tain, where  the  newborn  faith  had  been  stifled  by  the  Angles 
and  Saxons.  Gaul  was  invaded  on  the  north  by  the  pagan 
Franks,  and  on  the  south  by  the  Arian  Burgundians.  Spain 
was  overrun  and  ravaged  by  the  Visigoths,  the  Sueves,  the 
Alans,  and  the  Vandals,  all  Arians.  The  same  Vandals,  under 
the  successor  of  Genseric,  made  Christian  A.fric.i  desolate,  by 
a  persecution  more  unpitying  and  refined  in  cruelty  than 
those  of  the  Roman  emperors.  In  a  word,  all  those  coun- 
tries into  which  the  first  disciples  of  Jesus  Christ  carried  the 
faith,  had  fallen  a  prey  to  barbarism,  and  most  frequently  to 
a  barbarism  which  the  Arian  heresy  employed  as  the  instru- 
ment of  its  hatred  against  the  Church.  The  world  had  to  be 
a  second  time  reconquered. 

Christian  souls  everywhere  saw  with  terror  the  formidable 
prophecies  of  the  ancient  law  against  a  false-hearted  race 
realized  anew.  '*  Lo,  I  raise  up  the  Chaldeans,  that  bitter  and 
hasty  naticjn,  which  shall  march  through  the  breadth  of  the 
land,  to  possess  the  dwelling-places  that  are  not  theirs.  They 
are  terrible  and  dreadful.  .  .  .  Their  horses  also  are  swifter 
than  the  leopards,  and  are  more  fierce  than  the  evening 
wolves  :  and  their  horsemen  shall  spread  themselves,  and 
their  horsemen  shall  come  from  far;  they  shall  fly  as  the 
eagle  that  hasteth  to  eat.  They  shall  come  all  for  violence : 
their  fices  shall  sup  up  as  the  east  wind,  and  they  shall 
gather  the  captivity  as  the  sand.  And  they  shall  scoff  at  the 
kings,  and  the  princes  shall  be  a  scorn  unto  them  :  they  shall 
deride  every  stronghold ;  for  they  shall  heap  dust,  and 
take  it."  ^ 

Amidst  this  universal  darkness  and  desolation,  history 
directs  our  gaze  towards  those  heights,  in  the  centre  of  Italy, 

*  Justin  I.,  in  518. 

'  Hiib.  i.  6-10.  "  That  which  the  palmerworm  hath  left  hath  the  locust 
eaten ;  and  that  which  the  locust  hath  left  hath  the  cankerworm  eaten ;  and 
that  which  the  cankerworm  hath  left  liath  the  caterpillar  eaten."  —  Joel  i.  4. 


308  ST.    BENEDICT. 

and  at  the  gates  of  Rome,  which  detach  theinselves  from  the 
cliain  of  the  Apennines,  and  extend  from  the  ancient  country 
of  the  Sabines  to  that  of  the  Samnites.  A  single  solitary  was 
about  to  form  there  a  centre  spiritual  virtue,  and  to  light  it 
up  with  a  splendor  destined  to  shine  over  regenerated  Europe 
for  ten  centuries  to  come.'* 

Position  of  Fifty  milcs  to  the  west  of  Rome,  among  that  group 
subiaco.  qI"  }-,jj]g,  ^vhere  the  Anio  hollows  the  deep  gorge 
which  separates  the  country  of  the  Sabines  from  that  once 
inhabited  by  the  Eques  and  Herniei,  the  traveller,  ascending 
by  the  course  of  the  river,  comes  to  a  kind  of  basin,  which 
opens  out  between  two  immense  walls  of  rock,  and  from 
which  a  fresh  and  transparent  stream  ^  descends  from  fall  to 
fall,  to  a  place  named  Subiaco.  This  grand  and  picturesque 
site  had  attracted  the  attention  of  Nero.  He  confined  the 
water  of  the  Anio  by  dams,  and  constructed  artificial  lakes 
and  baths  below  with  a  delicious  villa,  which  took,  from  its 
position,  the  name  of  Sublaqueum,  and  of  which  some  shape- 
less ruins  remain.  He  sometimes  resided  there.  One  day, 
in  the  midst  of  a  feast,  the  cup  which  he  raised  to  his  lips 
was  broken  b}^  thunder,^  and  this  omen  filled  his  miserable 
soul  with  unusual  terror  ;  Heaven  had  marked  this  place  with 
Benedict  ^'^^  ^^^^  ^^  ouce  of  its  vengcance  and  of  its  mercies, 
hides  him-    Four  ccuturies  after  Nero,  and  when   solitude  and 

Beli  there  .,  iii  i  i.i-  -i  •- 

hi  iiis  Silence   had  long  replaced   the  imperial  orgies,'   a 

fo^.         young  patrician,  flying  from  the  delights  and  dangers 
"*^*-  of  Rome,  sought  there  a  refuge  and   solitude   with 

God.  He  had  been  baptized  under  the  name  of  Benedictus,' 
that  is  to  say,  Well  said,  or  Blessed.  He  belonged  to  the 
illustrious  house  of  Anicius,  which  had  already  given  so 
many  of  its  children  to  monastic  life.^     By  his  mother's  side 

*  All  that  we  know  of  the  life  of  St.  Benedict  has  come  to  us  from  the 
most  authentic  source,  Pope  Gregory  the  Great.  He  has  devoted  book  ii.  of 
his  Dialogues  to  tlie  lite  of  St.  Benedict,  relating  it  as  he  received  it  from  the 
lips  of  four  disciples  of  tlie  holy  patriarcli,  Constantine,  Honoratus,  Valen- 
tinian,  and  Simplicius,  the  two  first  of  whom  had  succeeded  him  as  abbots  at 
Monte  Cassino  and  Subiaco. 

*  "  Frigidas  atque  perspicuas  emanat  aquas."  —  S.  Gregor.,  Dial.  lib.  ii. 
c.  1. 

*  Tacit.,  Annal.,  lib.  xiv.  e.  22. 

'  NiBBY,  Topografia  die  Contorni  di  Roma ;  Januccelli,  Dissertaz.  so- 
pra  VOrig.  di  Subiaco,  1851. 

*  See  above,  vol.  i.  page  228.  Compare  H^ften.,  Disquisit.  Monastic, 
1644,  Proleg..  14.  Two  centuries  after  his  death,  the  immense  ruins  of  his 
ancestral  palace  were  still  to  be  seen  at  the  gates  of  Nursia.  — Adrevald., 
2>e  Mirac.  S.  Bened.,  i.  1.  Nursia,  which  was  also  the  country  of  Sertorius, 
is  now  called  Norcia. 


ST.  BENEDICT.  309 

he  was  tlie  last  scion  of  the  lords  of  Nurs.a,  a  Sabine  town, 
whore  lie  was  born,  as  has  been  said,  in  480.  He  was 
scarcely  fourteen  when  he  resolved  to  renounce  fortune, 
knowledge,  his  family,  and  the  happiness  of  this  world.  Leav- 
ing his  old  nurse,  who  had  been  the  first  to  love  him,  and 
who  alone  followed  him  still,  he  plunged  into  these  wild 
gorges,  and  ascended  those  almost  inaccessible  hills. ^  On 
the  way  he  met  a  monk,  named  Romauus,^^  who  gave  him  a 
haircloth  shirt  and  a  monastic  dress  made  of  skins.  Proceed- 
ing on  his  ascent,  and  reaching  to  the  middle  of  the  abrupt 
rock,  which  faces  to  the  south,  and  which  overhangs  the  rapid 
course  of  the  Anio,  he  discovered  a  dark  and  narrow  cave,  a 
sort  of"  den,  into  which  the  sun  never  shone.  He  there  took 
up  his  abode,  and  remained  unknown  to  all  except  to  the 
monk  Romanus,  who  fed  him  with  the  remainder  of  his  own 
scanty  fare,^^  but  who,  not  being  able  to  reach  his  cell,  trans- 
mitted to  him  every  day,  at  the  end  of  a  cord,  a  loaf  and  a 
little  bell,  the  sound  of  which  warned  him  of  this  sustenance 
which  charity  had  provided  for  him. 

He  lived  three  entire  years  in  this  tomb.  The  shepherds 
who  discovered  him  there,  at  first  took  him  for  a  wild  bt;ast ; 
by  his  discourses,  and  the  efforts  he  made  to  instil  grace  and 
piety  into  their  rustic  souls,  they  recognized  in  him  a  servant 
of  God.^'^  Temptations  were  not  wanting  to  him.  The  al- 
lurements of  voluptuousness  acted  so  strongly  on  his  excited 
senses,  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  his  retreat  to  seek 
after  a  woman  whose  beauty  had  formerly  impressed  him, 
and  whose  memory  haunted  him  incessantly.  But  there  was 
near  his  grotto  a  clump  of  thorns  and  briers :  he  took  off  tiie 
vestment  of  skins  which  was  his  only  dress,  and  rolled  him- 
self among  them  naked,  till  his  body  was  all  one  wound,  but 
also  till  he  had  extinguished  forever  the  infernal  fire  which 
inflamed  him  even  in  the  desert.^^ 

*  "  Dcspectis  literarum  studiis,  .  .  .  relictis  domo  rebusque  paternis  .  .  . 
despexit  jam  quasi  aridum  luundum  cum  flore.  .  .  .  Quae  hunc  arctius  ania- 
bat,  sola  secuta  est.  .  .  .  Per  abrupta  luontium,  per  concava  vallium,  per  de- 
fossa  torraruni."  —  S.  Gregor.,  I.  c. 

^^  Tlia  locality  of  the  meeting  is  indicated  by  a  chapel  called  Santa  Cro- 
cdJa,  which  is  still  seen  between  the  two  monasteries  of  St.  Scholastica  and 
Sagro  Speco. 

"  BossuET,  Panegyrique  de  Saint  Benoit. 

'*  '•  Quem  dum  vestitum  pellibus  inter  fruteta  cernerent,  aliqnam  bestiam 
esse  crediderunt,  ...  ad  pietatis  gratiam  a  bestiali  mente  mutati  sunt."  — 
S.  Gregor.,  I.  c. 

'^  ''Quaradam  aliquando  foeminam  aspexerat,  quam  malignus  spiritus  ante 
ejus  mentis  oculos  reduxit :  tantoque  igne  .  .  .  aniiiium  in  specie  illius  ac- 
cendit,  ul  dum  in  ejus  pectore  auioris  tiamma  vim  caperet,  etiam  pene  dese 


310  ST.  BENEDICT. 

St.  Francis  Seveii  centuries  later,  another  saint,  father  of  the 
at  subiaco.  jyjQg^  numevous  monastic  family  which  the  Church 
has  produced  after  that  of  St.  Benedict,  St.  Francis  of  Assisi, 
came  to  visit  that  wild  site  which  was  worthy  to  rival  the 
bare  Tuscan  rock  where  tlie  stigmata  of  the  passion  were 
imprinted  on  himself^*  He  prostrated  himself  before  the 
thicket  of  thorns  which  had  been  a  triumphal  bed  to  the  mas- 
culine virtue  of  the  patriarch  of  the  monks,  and  after  having 
bathed  with  his  tears  the  soil  of  that  glorious  battle-field,  he 
planted  there  two  rose-trees.  The  roses  of  St.  Francis  grew, 
dud  have  survived  the.  Benedictine  briers.  This  garden, 
twice  sanctified,  still  occupies  a  sort  of  triangular  plateau, 
which  projects  upon  the  side  of  the  rock  a  little  before  and 
beneath  the  grotto  which  sheltered  St.  Benedict.  The  eye, 
confined  on  all  sides  by  rocks,  can  survey  freely  only  the 
ai^are  of  heaven.  It  is  the  last  of  those  sacred  places  visited 
and  venerated  in  the  celebrated  and  unique  monastery  of  the 
Sagro  Speco,  which  forms  a  series  of  sanctuaries  built  one 
over  the  other,  backed  by  the  mountain  which  Benedict  fias 
immortalized.  Such  was  the  hard  and  savage  cradle  of  the 
monastic  order  in  the  West.  It  was  from  this  tomb,  where 
the  delicate  son  of  the  last  patricians  of  Rome  buried  himself 
alive,  that  the  definite  form  of  monastic  life  —  that  is  to  say, 
the  perfection  of  Christian  life  —  was  born.  From  this 
cavern  and  thicket  of  thorns  have  issued  legions  of  saints 
and  monks,  whose  devotion  has  won  for  the  Church  her 
greatest  conquests  and  purest  glories.  From  this  fountain 
has  gushed  the  inexhaustible  current  of  religious  zeal  and 
fervor.  Thence  came,  and  shall  still  come,  all  whom  the 
spirit  of  the  great  Benedict  shall  inspire  with  the  impulse  of 
opening  new  patlis  or  restoring  ancient  discipline  in  cloistral 
life.  Tlie  sacred  site  which  the  prophet  Isaiah  seems  to 
have  pointed  out  beforehand  to  cenobites,  by  words  so  mar- 

rcre  cremum  voluptate  victus  deliberiiret.  .  .  .  Exutus  indumento,  nudum  se 
in  illis  spinaruin  aciileis  et  urticarum  incendiis  projecit,  ibique  diu  voiutatus, 
lotus  ex  eis  vulneratus  exiit.  Ex  quo  tempore,  sicut  ipse  postea  perhibebat, 
itn  in  CO  est  tentatio  voiuptatis  edomita,  ut  tale  aliquid  in  se  minime  sentiret." 
—  S.  Gregor.,  I-  c. 

'■*  The  Alvernial  near  Chiusi,  in  tlie  Casentin.  where  a  celebrated  monas- 
tery indicates  the  place  where  tlie  patriarch  of  the  order  of  minor  brothers 
iLceived  the  stigmata  :  — 

"Nel  criulo  sasso  intra  Tevere  ed  A.rno 
Da  Cristo  prese  1'  ultimo  sigillo 
Che  le  sue  membra  du'  anni  portarno." 

Dante,  Paradiso,  c.  xi. 
St   Francis  came  to  Subiaco  in  1223. 


ST.  BENEDICT.  311 

V'illously  close  in  their  application  —  ''Look  unto  tho  rock 
whence  ye  are  hewn,  and  to  the  hole  of  the  pit  (cavern am 
LACi)  whence  ye  are  digt^ed  " — is  there  recognized  by  all. 
We  lament  for  the  Christian  who  has  not  seen  this  grotto, 
this  desert,  this  nest  of  the  eagle  and  the  dove,  or  who,  hav- 
ing seen  it,  has  not  prostrated  himself  with  tender  respect 
before  the  sanctuary  from  which  issued,  with  tlie  rule  and 
institution  of  St.  Benedict,  the  flower  of  Christian  civiliza- 
tion, the  permanent  victory  of  the  soul  over  the  flesh,  the 
intellectual  enfranchisement  of  Europe,  and  all  that  charm 
and  grandeur  which  the  spirit  of  sacrifice,  regulated  by  faith, 
adds  to  knowledge,  labor,  and  virtue.^^ 

The  solitude  of  the  young  anchorite  was  not  long  respected. 
The  faithful  in  the  neighborhood,  who  brought  him  food  for 
tho  body,  asked  the  bread  of  life  in  return.  The  monks  of  a 
neighboring  monastery,  situated  near  Vico  Varo  (the  Vario 
of  Horace),  obtained,  by  dint  of  importunity,  his  consent  to 
become  their  ruler,  but,  soon  disgusted  b}' his  austerity,  they 
endeavored  to  poison  him.  He  made  the  sign  of  the  cross 
over  the  vessel  which  contained  the  poison,  and  it  broke  as 
if  it  had  been  struck  with  a  stone.  He  left  these  unworthy 
monks  to  re-enter  joyfully  his  beloved  cavern,  and  to  live  by 
him?;elf  alone. ^^  But  it  was  vain:  he  soon  found  himself  sur- 
rounded by  such  a  multitude  of  disciples,  that,  to  give  them 
a  shelter,  he  was  compelled  to  found  in  the  neighborhood  of 
his  retreat  twelve  monasteries,  each  inhabited  by  twelve 
monks. 1'^  He  kept  some  with  him  in  order  to  direct  them 
himself,  and  was  thus  finally  raised  to  be  the  superior  of  a 
numerous  community  of  cenobites. 

'^  Petrarch,  who  visited  Subiaco,  says  :  "  Illud  imraane  et  devotum  specus, 
quod  qui  viderunt  vidisse  quodammodo  Paradisi  limen  credunt." —  De  Vita 
Holit.,  lib.  ii.  c  9. 

'*  "  Cum  ei  cibum  afFerrent  corporis,  abejus  ore  in  sua  pectora  alimenta  re- 
ferebunt  vitae.  .  .  .  Vas  pestiferi  potus  sic  confractum  est  ac  si  pro  signo 
lapide:ii  dedisset.  .  .  .  Ad  locum  dilectae  solitudinis  rediit,  et  solus  in  superui 
speotatoris  oculis  habitavit  secuui." —  S.  Greg.,  I.  c. 

'''  See  some  valuable  details  of  those  twelve  monasteries  in  the  Memorie 
Storiche  della  S.  Grotti  di  S.  Benedetto  sopra  Svbiaco,  by  D.  Vinc.  Bini,  Ab- 
bot of  tlie  Sagro  Speco,  in  1840.  Compare  Yepes,  Coronica  Geral  de  S. 
Benito,  ad.  n.  510.  As  to  the  actual  state  of  the  monastery  of  the  Sagro 
Speco,  it  is  perfectly  described  in  a  work  l)y  the  Abbot  M.  Barbiek  ue  Mon- 
TAi  LT.  published  by  the  Annates  Arcleologiques  of  Didron,  vols,  xviii.  and 
xix.,  1859.  The  frescoes  and  inscriptions  which  make  this  sanctuary  so  pre- 
cious a  monument  of  Christian  archaeology,  are  there  described  with  great  ex- 
actness. These  frescoes,  several  of  which  go  as  far  back  as  the  thirteenth 
century,  have  been  reproduced  with  minute  accuracy  in  a  folio  volume,  en- 
titled Imagerie  du  Sagro  Speco,  and  published  at  Kome  by  an  anonymou» 
Belgian,  printing-office  of  the  K.  C.  A.,  1855. 


312  ST.  BENEDICT. 

Goths  Clergy  and  la^^men,  Romans  and  Barbarians,  vie- 

di^eiplel^of  tors  and  vanquished,  alike  flocked  to  him,  attracted 
Benedict.  \yy  i\^q  fame  of  his  virtue  and  miracles.  While  the 
celebrated  Theodoric,  at  the  head  of  his  Goths,  up  to  that 
time  invincible,  destroyed  the  ephemeral  kingdom  of  the 
Herules,  seized  Rome,  and  overspread  Italy,  other  Goths 
came  to  seek  faith,  penitence,  and  monastic  discipline  under 
the  laws  of  Benedlct.^^  At  his  command  they  armed  them- 
selves with  axes  and  hatchets,  and  employed  their  robust 
strength  in  rooting  out  the  brushwood  and  clearing  the  soil, 
which,  since  the  time  of  Nero,  had  again  become  a  wilder- 
ness. The  Italian  painters  of  the  great  ages  of  art  have  left 
us  many  representations  of  the  legend  told  by  St.  Gregory, 
in  which  St.  Benedict  restores  to  a  Goth  who  had  become  a 
convert  at  Subiaco,  the  tool  which  that  zealous  but  unskilful 
workman  had  dropped  to  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  and  which 
the  abbot  miraculously  brought  forth.  *'  Take  thy  tool,"  said 
Benedict  to  the  Barbarian  woodcutter  —  "take  it,  Avork,  and 
be  comforted."  Symbolical  words,  in  which  we  find  an 
abridgment  of  the  precepts  and  examples  lavished  by  the 
monastic  order  on  so  many  generations  of  conquering  races : 
Ucce  labora !  ^^ 

The  youncr  Bcsides  thcsB  Barbarians  alread}^  occupied  in  re- 
pntrician  "^  storing  the  Cultivation  of  that  Italian  soil  which 
Xiur^and  their  brethren  in  arms  still  wasted,  were  many  chil- 
piacidus.  (Iyqi-^  of  the  Roman  nobility  whom  their  fathers  had 
confided  to  Benedict  to  be  trained  to  the  service  of  God. 
Among  these  young  patricians  are  two  whose  names  are  cele- 
brated in  Benedictine  annals:  Maur,  whom  the  abbot  Bene- 
dict made  his  own  coadjutor  ;  and  Placidus,  whose  father  was 
lord  of  the  manor  of  Subiaco,-*^  which  did  not  prevent  his  son 

'^  It  must  be  remarked,  however,  that  Gothic  monks  had  been  seen  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Constantinople  from  the  fourth  century,  and  tiiat  St.  John 
Chrysostona  had  some  intercourse  with  them. —  Bultead,  Hist.  iMon.  d' Orient, 
p.  4G3. 

*'  "Gotthus  quidam,  pauper  spiritu,  ad  conversionem  venit,  quem  Dei  vir 
Benedictus  libentissiine  suscepit.  .  .  .  Ei  dari  ferramentum  jussit,  quod  fal- 
castrum  vocatur,  ut  de  loco  quodam  vepres  abscinderet  quatenus  illic  hortus 
fieri  deberet  .  .  .  super  ripam  laci.  .  .  .  Cumque  Gotthus  idem  densitatera 
veprium  totius  virtutis  annisu  succideret.  .'  .  .  Ecoe  labora  et  noli  contri- 
etari."  —  S.  Geeg.,  c.  6. 

-"  The  father  of  Placidus,  who  was  a  senator  called  Tertullus,  over- 
whelined  St.  Benedict  with  territorial  donations,  and  endowed,  among  others, 
according  to  tradition,  that  great  monastery  of  San  Severino,  which  is  still  to 
be  seen  at  Naples,  and  where  the  beautiful  series  of  frescoes  by  Zingaro, 
which  represent  the  prmcipal  events  in  the  life  of  St.  Benedict,  are  admired. 
Since  wc  have  occasion  here  to  remark  these  u).)numents  of  Christian  art, 


ST.  BENEDICT.  313 

from  rendering  menial  services  to  the  community,  sucli  ay 
drawing  water  from  the  lake  of  Nero.  The  weiglit  of  his 
pitcher  one  day  overbalanced  him,  and  he  fell  into  the  lake. 
We  shall  leave  Bossuet  to  tell  the  rest,  in  his  panegyric,  de- 
livered twelve  centuries  afterwards,  before  the  sons  of  the 
fainder^of  Subiaco:  *' St.  Benedict  ordered  St.  Maur,  his 
laithful  disciple,  to  run  quickly  and  draw  the  child  out.  At 
the  word  of  his  master  Maur  went  away  without  hesitation, 
.  .  .  and,  full  of  confidence  in  the  order  he  had  received, 
"Walked  upon  the  water  with  as  much  security  as  upon  the 
earth,  and  drew  Placidus  from  the  whirlpool  which  would 
have  swallowed  him  up.  To  what  shall  I  attribute  so  great 
a  miracle,  whether  to  the  virtue  of  the  obedience  or  to  that 
of  the  commandment?  A  doubtful  question,  says  'St.  Greg- 
ory, between  St.  Benedict  and  St.  Maur.  But  let  us  say,  to 
decide  it,  that  the  obedience  had  grace  to  accomplish  the 
command,  and  that  the  command  had  grace  to  give  efScacy 
to  the  obedience.  Walk,  my  fathers,  upon  the  waves  with 
the  help  df  obedience ;  you  shall  find  solid  support  amid  the 
inconstancy  of  human  things.  The  waves  shall  have  no 
power  to  overthrow  you,  nor  the  depths  to  swallow  you  up  ; 
you  shall  remain  immovable,  as  if  all  was  firm  under  your 
leet,  and  issue  forth  victorious."  ^^ 

However,  Benedict  had  the  ordinary  fate  of  great  xmisof 
men  and  saints.  The  great  number  of  conversions  Benedict, 
worked  by  the  example  and  fame  of  his  austerity  awakened 
a  homicidal  envy  against  him.  A  wicked  priest  of  the  neigh- 
borhood attempted  first  to  decry  and  then  to  poison  him.  Be- 
ing unsuccessful  in  both,  he  endeavored,  at  least,  to  injure  him 
in  the  object  of  his  most  tender  solicitude  —  in  the  souls  of  his 
young  disciples.  For  that  purpose  he  sent,  even  into  the 
garden  of  the  monastery  where  Benedict  dwelt  and  where 
the  monks  labored,  seven  wretched  women,  whose  gestures, 
sports,  and  shameful  nudity,  were  designed  to  tempt  the 
young  monks  to  certain  fall.  Who  does  not  recognize  in  this 
incident  the  mixture  of  Barbarian  rudeness  and  frightful  cor- 

which  shed  so  briglit  and  pui'e  a  light  over  the  monuments  of  history,  we  iiay 
be  permitted  also  to  point  out  the  atlmirable  fresco  of  the  church  of  San  Se- 
vcro,  at  Peruzzi,  in  which  Raphael,  in  1505,  still  a  youth,  has  represented  St. 
Benedict  seated  in  heaven,  and  contemplating  our  Lord,  with  his  two  disci- 
ples, St.  Placidus  and  St  Maur,  by  his  side;  in  front  of  him,  St.  Eomuald 
and  two  Benedictine  martyrs.  It  has  been  perfectly  engraved  by  M.  Keller 
of  Dusseldorf,  the  same  to  whom  we  owe  the  only  engraving  of  the  Bisputi 
du  Saint  Sacrement.  which  is  worthy  of  Raphael's  masterpiece. 
*'  Panegyric  of  St.  Benedict. 

VOL.  L  27 


314  ST.  BENEDICT. 

ruptlon  which  characterize  ages  of  decay  and  transition? 
When  Benedict,  from  the  threshold  of  his  cell,  perceived 
these  shameless  creatures,  he  despaired  of  his  ^^■ork;^^  lie 
acknowledged  that  the  interest  of  his  beloved  children  con- 
strained hiin  to  disarm  so  cruel  an  enmity  bj^  retreat.  He 
appointed  superiors  to  the  twelve  monasteries  which  he  had 
founded,  and.  taking  with  him  a  small  number  of  dis^ciples, 
he  left  forever  the  wild  gorges  of  Subiaco,  where  he  had 
lived  for  thirty-tive  years. 

HiB(iopart-        Without  withdrawing  from   the   mountainous  re- 
Monte         gion  which  extends  along   the  western  side  of  the 
Ciissino.       Apennines,  Benedict  directed  his  steps  towards  the 
5'^».  south  along   the  Abruzzi,  and   penetrated  into  that 

Land  of  Labor,  the  name  of  which  seems  naturally  suited  to 
a  soil  destined  to  be  the  cradle  of  the  most  laborious  men 
whom  the  world  has  known.  He  ended  his  journey  in  a 
scene  very  diiTerent  from  that  of  Subiaco,  but  of  incompara- 
ble grandeur  and  majestv.  There,  upon  the  boundaries  of 
Samnium  and  Campania,  in  the  centre  of  a  large  basin,  half- 
surrounded  by  abrupt  and  picturesque  heights,  rises  a  scarped 
and  isolated  hill,  the  vast  and  rounded  summit  of  which  over- 
looks the  course  of  tlie  Liris  near  its  fountain  head,  and  the 
undulating  plain  which  extends  south  towards  the  shores  of 
the  Mediterranean  and  the  narrow  valleys  which,  towards  the 
north,  the  east,  and  the  west,  lost  themselves  in  the  lines  of 
the  mountainous  horizon.  This  is  Monte  Cassino.  At  the 
foot  of  this  rock,  Benedict  found  an  amphitheatre  of  the  time 
of  the  Cassars,  amidst  the  ruins  of  the  town  of  Cassinum, 
which  the  most  learned  and  pious  of  Romans,  Varro,  that 
pagan  Benedictine,  whose  memory  and  knowledge  the  sons 
of  Benedict  took  pleasure  in  honoring,  had  rendered  illus- 
trioas.23     From  the   summit  the  prospect  extended  on  one 

22  "  Vicinae  ecclesiae  presbyter  Florentius  nomine,  hujus  nostri  subdiaconi 
Florentii  avus.  .  .  .  Ita  ut  in  horto  celiaa  .  .  .  ante  eorum  oculos  nudas  sep- 
teni  puellas  mitteret,  quae  coram  eis  sibi  invicem  manus  tendentes  et  diutius 
ludentes,  illorum  mentes  ad  perversitatem  libidinis  inflammarent.  Quod  vir 
sanctus  de  cella  prospiciens  .  .  ."  —  S.  Geegor.,  c.  8. 

^^  "Varro  .  .  .  sanctissimus  et  integerrimus."  —  Cicero,  P/i  i7.,  ii.     "  Ca- 
sinensis  arcis  subliuiitas  tanto  olini  culmine  viguit,  ut  Eomani  celsitudo  im- 
perii philosopliiois  studiis  illam  in  aevuin  dicaret.     Hanc  M.  T.  Varro  omnium 
Uonianorum  doctissimus  incoluit."  —  Petr.  Diac,  De  Vir.  lllust.  Gasin. 
"  Nymphisque  liabitata  rura  Casini." 

SiL.  Italic,  i.  12. 

This  town,  restored  by  the  monks,  now  bears  the  name  of  San  Germano, 
in  honor  of  a  holy  bialiop  of  Capua,  contemporary  of  Benedict.  Between 
the  town  and  the  monastery,  on  a  detached  knoll  of  the  mountain,  still  rises 


ST.  BENEDICT.  315 

Bi'de  towards  Arpinum,  where  the  prince  of  Roman  oratora 
was  born,  and  on  the  other  towards  Aquinum,  ah-eady  cele- 
brated as  the  birthplace  of  Juvenal,  before  it  was  known  as 
the  country  of  the  Doctor  Angelico,  which  latter  distinction 
should  make  the  name  of  this  little  town  known  among  all 
Christians. 

It  was  amidst  tliese  noble  recollections,  this  solemn  nature, 
and  upon  that  predestinated  height,  that  the  patriarch  of  the 
monks  of  the  West  founded  the  capital  of  the  monastic  order. 
He  found  paganism  still  surviving  there.  Two  hundred 
years  after  Constantine,  in  the  heart  of  Christendom,  and  so 
near  Rome,  there  still  existed  a  very  ancient  temple  of  Apollo 
and  a  sacred  wood,  where  a  multitude  of  peasants  sacrificed 
to  the  gods  and  demon s.^^  Benedict  preached  the  faith  of 
Christ  to  these  forgotten  people  ;  he  persuaded  them  to  cut 
down  the  wood,  to  overthrow  the  temple  and  the  idol.  Let 
us  listen  to  Dante,  who  has  translated,  in  his  own  fashion,  the 
narrative  of  St.  Gregory,  in  that  magnificent  song  of  the 
Paradise,  where  the  instructions  of  Beatrice  are  interrupted 
and  completed  by  the  apparition  of  the  patriarch  of  the 
Western  monks :  — 

*'  Quel  monte,  a  cui  Cassino  e  nella  costa, 
Fu  frequentato  gia  in  su  la  cima, 
Dalla  gente  ingannata  e  mal  disposta : 

Ed  io  son  quel  che  su  vi  portal  prima 
Lo  nome  di  colui  che  'n  terra  adusse 
La  verita,  che  tanto  ci  subllma: 

E  tanta  grazia  sovra  mi  rilusse 
Ch'  io  ritrassi  le  ville  circonstanti 
Dair  empio  colto,  che'  I  mondo  sedusse." 

Upon  these  remains  Benedict  built  two  oratories,  one  dedi- 
cated to  St.  John  the  Baptist,  the  first  solitary  of  the  new 
faith  ;  the  other  to  St.  Martin,  the  great  monk-bishop,  whose 
ascetic  and  priestlj'  virtues  had  edified  Gaul,  and  reached  as 

the  vnst  castle  of  Rocca  Janula,  built  in  the  middle  ages,  uninhabited,  Lut 
not  in  ruins,  with  its  towers  and  embattled  ramparts,  which  Avere  connected 
with  the  enclosures  of  San  Germano  by  two  long  walls.  Noth.ng  could  be 
more  complete  and  striking  than  the  general  appearance  of  the  holy  moun- 
tain. At  the  foot,  the  modern  town,  with  its  Roman  amphitlieatre  ;  lialf  way 
up,  the  feudal  fortress;  at  the  summit,  the  immortal  monastery,  always  im- 
posing and  majestic,  despite  the  alterations  wliich  its  architecture  has  under- 
gone. 

^  "  Vetustissimum  fanum  ...  in  quo  ex  antiquorum  more  gentiliuni  a 
stulto  rusticorum  populo  Apollo  colebatur  circumquaque  in  cnltu  daemonic* 
rum  luci  succreverunt.  .  .  .  Infidelium  insana  multitude. "  —  S.  Gkegok., 
c.  8. 


316  ST.  BENEDICT. 

The  arch-  f^^'  ^^  Italy.  Round  these  chapels  rose  the  monas- 
monastcry  terj  whicli  was  to  become  the  most  poweriul  and 
Monte  celebrated    in    the    Catholic    universe ;    celebrated 

Cassjno.  especiall}^  because  there  Benedict  wrote  his  rule; 
and  at  the  same  time  formed  the  type  which  was  to  serve  as 
a  model  to  innumerable  communities  submitted  to  that  sov- 
ereign code.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  emulous  pontitFs, 
princes,  and  nations  have  praised,  endowed,  and  visited  the 
sanctuary  where  monastic  religion,  according  to  the  expros- 
Bif'n  of  Pope  Urban  II.,  "  flowed  from  the  heart  of  Benedict 
as  from  a  founlain  head  of  Paradise  ;  ^^  and  which  another 
Pope,^^  who  himself  issued  out  of  Monte  Cassino  to  ascend 
the  apostolical  chair,  has  not  hesitated  to  compare  to  Sinai, 
in  these  lines  of  proud  and  bold  simplicity  which  he  engraved 
upon  the  altar  of  the  holy  patriarch  — 

'*  Hsec  domus  est  similis  SinaV  sacra  jura  ferenti, 
Ut  lex  denionstrat  hie  quae  fuit  edita  quondam. 
Lex  hinc  exivit,  mentes  quaa  ducit  ab  imis, 
Et  vulgata  dedit  lumen  per  climata  saecli."  " 

**  "  Ipse  omnium  monachorum  pater,  et  Casinense  monasterium  caput  om- 
nium perpetuo  habeatur  et  nierito,  nam  ex  eodem  loco  de  Benedicti  pectore 
nionastici  ordinis  religio  quasi  de  Paradisi  fonte  emanavit."  —  Bulla  CJrbani 
II.,  ad  Gale.  Chron.  Casinen. 

^  Dldier,  Abbot  of  Monte  Cassino,  successor  to  St.  Gregory  VII.,  under 
the  name  of  Victor  III. 

*''  Leo  OsTiENSis,  Chr.  Oasin.,  iii.  27. 

I  do  not  undertake  here  to  describe  the  actual  condition  of  Monte  Cassino, 
nor  to  retrace  its  history.  I  would  ratlier  refer,  for  this  description,  to  two 
correct  and  careful  notices,  one  by  M.  Adolphe  de  Circourt,  in  vol.  ix.  of  the 
Revue  des  Deux  Bourgognes,  1839 ;  and  the  other  by  M.  Dan«^ier,  in  vol.  x.  of 
the  Revue  Contempoj-aine,  1853.  I  shall  confine  myself  to  indicating  here 
those  parts  of  the  immense  and  splendid  abbey  which  tradition  traces  to  the 
time  of  St.  Benedict.  They  are:  1st,  the  entrance  gate,  the  very  low  arch 
of  which  indicates  the  yoke  of  humility  under  which  the  law  obliged  the 
monks  to  bend;  on  wliicti  is  tl)is  inscription — "Fornicem  saxis  asperum  ac 
depressum  tantse  moli  aditum  angustum  ne  mireris,  hospes.  Angustum  fecit 
patriarchae  sanctitas  :  venerare  poiius  et  sospes  ingredere;"  2d,  tlie  lower 
portion  of  the  square  tower  which  surmounted  this  gate,  and  which  is  be- 
lieved to  have  been  the  residence  of  St.  Benedict  and  his  first  companions,  as 
is  inferred  in  tlie  following  inscriptions,  placed  in  two  distinct  anirtments, 
"Pars  inferior  turris,  in  qua  S.  P.  N.  Benedictus  dum  viveret  habitabat;" 
and  en  one  side,  "  Vetustissimum  habitaculum  in  quo  SSmi  patriarchae  dis- 
cipuli  quiescebant."  In  a  higher  floor  of  the  same  turret,  another  inscription 
affirms  that  it  was  there  the  saint  had  the  vision  of  the  death  of  his  sister  and 
the  Bishop  of  St.  Germain.  Outside  the  monastery,  the  place  consecrated  by 
tradition  is  shown,  where  Benedict  knelt  in  prayer  befoie  laying  the  flrst 
stone  of  his  new  dwelling,  and  that  at  which  St.  Scholastica,  his  sister  and 
auxiliary,  rested,  when  climbing  for  the  first  time  to  the  summit  of  the  rock. 
With  regard  to  the  chief  monastery,  though  it  will  be  perpetually  mentioned 
in  the  following  narrative,  it  is  necessary  to  refer  the  curious  to  the  book 
which  a  learned  and  zealous  monk  of  Moate  Cassino,  Dom  Luigi  Tosti,  pub- 


ST.  BENEDICT.  317 

Benedict  ended  his  life  at  Monte  Cassino,  where  500-543 
he  lived  for  fourteen  years,  occupied,  in  the  first 
place,  with  extricating  from  the  surrounding  country  the 
remnants  of  paganism,  afterwards  in  building  his  monastery 
b}'  the  hands  of  his  disciples,  in  cultivating  the  arid  sides  of 
his  mountain,28  and  the  devastated  plains  around,  but  above 
all,  in  extending  to  all  who  approached  him  the  benefits  of 
the  law  of  God,  practised  with  a  fervor  and  charity  which 
none  have  surpassed.  Although  he  had  never  been  invested 
with  the  priestly  character,  his  life  at  Monte  Cassino  was 
rather  that  of  a  missionary  and  apostle  than  of  a  solitary.  He 
was,  notwithstanding,  the  vigilant  head  of  a  community 
which  flourished  and  increased  more  and  more.  Accustomed 
to  subdue  himself  in  everything,  and  to  struggle  with  the 
infernal  spirits,  whose  temptations  and  appearances  were  not 
wanting  to  him  more  than  to  the  ancient  Fathers  of  the 
desert,-^  he  had  acquired  the  gift  of  reading  souls,  and  dis- 
cerning their  most  secret  thoughts.  He  used  this  faculty 
not  only  to  direct  the  young  monks,  who  always  gathered  in 
such  numbers  round  him,  in  their  studies  and  the  labors  of 
agriculture  and  building  which   he   shared  with  them ;   but 

lished  on  this  subject,  in  three  volumes,  at  Naples  in  1842.  We  restrict  our- 
selves to  the  following  dates  :  —  Destroyed  for  the  first  time  by  tlie  Lom- 
bards in  583,  the  monastery  was  restored  by  tlie  Abbot  Petronax,  under 
Gregory  II.,  in  731,  and  consecrated  by  Pope  Zacharias,  in  748.  Again  de- 
stroyed by  the  Saracens,  who  massacred  the  greater  part  of  the  monks,  in 
867 :  it  was  rebuilt  anew  by  the  Abbot  Aligern  about  950,  and  consecrated  by 
Alexander  II.,  in  1071.  After  many  other  calamities,  it  was  entirely  rebuilt 
in  1649,  and  consecrated  for  the  third  time  by  Benedict  XIII.,  in  1727.  In 
the  time  of  its  splendor,  the  abbot  was  first  baron  of  the  kingdom  of  Naples, 
and  administrator  of  a  special  diocese,  established  in  1321,  and  composed  of 
37  parishes.  Among  his  dependencies  were  reckoned  four  bishoprics,  two 
principalities,  twenty  counties,  250  castles,  440  towns  or  villages,  336  cmies 
or  manors,  23  maritime  ports,  33  islands,  200  mills,  300  territories,  1662 
churches.  —  Hapten.,  Comment,  in  Vit.  S.  Bened.,  p.  105.  At  the  end  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  his  income  was  reckoned  at  the  enormous  sum  of  500,000 
ducats.  But  all  this  splendor  gradually  disappeared,  first  from  the  effect 
of  the  commende,  of  which  the  Abbey  of  Monte  Cassino  became  the  prey  in 
the  fifteenth  century,  afterwards  by  the  wars  and  revolutions  of  Italy.  De- 
spoiled and  ransomed  a  last  time  by  the  French  under  Championnet,  trans- 
formed into  a  mere  library  by  King  Joseph  Bonaparte  in  1805,  it  has  recov- 
ered, since  the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  a  remnant  of  life  and  fortune, 
which  is  developing  under  tlie  fertile  atmosphere  of  the  monastic  revival 
which  the  nineteenth  century  has  the  glory  of  having  originated. 
^  "  Arida  tu  cujus  hortis  componis  amoenis, 
Nudaque  fecundo  palmite  saxa  tegis. 
Mirantur  scopula  fruges,  et  non  sua  ponia, 
Pomiferisque  viret  silva  domata  comis." 

Carmen  de  S.  Bened. ,  auct.  Mjlbco,  discip. 
*»  S.  Greg.,  Dial.,  c.  9,  10,  11,  &c. 

21* 


318  ST.  BENEDICT. 

even  in  the  distant  journeys  on  which  they  were  sometimes 
sent,  he  followed  them  by  a  spiritual  observation,  discovered 
their  least  failings,  reprimanded  them  on  their  return,  and 
bound  them  in  everything  to  a  strict  fulfilment  of  the  rule 
which  they  had  accepted.  He  exacted  from  all  the  obedi- 
ence, sincerity,  and  austerely  regulated  life  of  which  he  him- 
self gave  the  first  example. 

Many  young  men  of  rich  and  noble  families  came  here,  as 
at  Subiaco,  to  put  themselves  under  his  direction,  or  were 
confided  to  him  by  their  parents.  They  labored  with  the 
other  brethren  in  the  cultivation  of  the  soil  and  the  building 
of  the  monasterj^  and  were  bound  to  all  the  services  imposed 
by  the  rule.  Some  of  these  young  nobles  rebelled  in  secret 
against  that  equality.  Among  these,  according  to  the  nar- 
rative of  St.  Gregory,  was  the  son  of  a  Defender  —  that  is  to 
say,  of  the  first  magistrate  of  a  town  or  province.  One  even- 
ing, it  being  his  turn  to  light  the  abbot  Benedict  at  supper, 
while  he  held  the  candlestick  before  the  abbatial  table,  his 
pride  rose  within  him,  and  he  said  to  himself,  "  What  is  this 
man  that  I  should  thus  stand  before  liira  while  he  eats,  with 
a  candle  in  my  hand,  like  a  slave?  Am  I  then  made  to 
be  his  slave" 3*^  Immediately  Benedict,  as  if  he  had  heard 
hirn,  reproved  him  sharply  for  that  movement  of  pride,  gave 
the  candle  to  another,  and  sent  him  back  to  his  cell,  dis- 
mayed to  find  himself  at  once  discovered  and  restrained 
in  his  most  secret  thoughts.  It  was  thus  that  the  great 
legislator  inaugurated  in  his  new-formed  cloister  that  alli- 
ance of  aristocratic  races  with  the  Benedictine  order  of 
which  we  shall  have  many  generous  and  fruitful  examples  to 
quote. 

He  bound  all  —  nobles  and  plebeians,  young  and  old,  rich 
and  poor  — under  the  same  discipline.  But  he  would  have 
excess  or  violence  in  nothing :  and  when  he  was  told  of  a 
solitary  in  the  neighboring  mountains,  who,  not  content  with 
shutting  himself  up  in  a  narrow  cave,  had  attached  to  big 
foot  a  chain  the  other  end  of  which  was  fixed  in  the  rock,  so 
that  he  could  not  move  beyond  the  length  of  this  chain,i;ene- 
dict  sent  to  tell  him  to  break  it,  in  these  words,  "If  thou  art 
truly  a  servant  of  God,  confine  thyself  not  with  a  chain  of  iron, 
but  with  the  chain  of  Christ."  ^i 

^  "  Quis  est  hie  cui  ego  manducanti  assisto,  lucernam  teneo,  servitutem 
inipendo  ?     Quis  sum  ego  uti  isti  serviam  ?  "  —  S.  Greg.,  Dial.,  c.  20. 

■"  "Si  servus  Dei  es,  non  te  teneat  catena  ferrea,  sei  catena  Christi."  — 
Ibid.,  lib.  iii.  c.  16. 


ST.  BENEDICT.  319 

And  extenrling  his  solicitude  and  authority  over  interootirse 
the  surrounding  populations,  he  did  not  content  Heirmnct 
himself  with  preaching  eloquently  to  them  the  true  .writiie 
faith,^^  but  also  healed  the  sick,  the  lepers,  and  the  ing^popnia- 
possessed,  provided  for  all  the  necessities  of  the  *'''"■ 
soul  and  body,  paid  the  debts  of  honest  men  oppressed  by 
their  creditors,  and  distributed  in  incessant  alms  the  provis- 
ions of  corn,  wine,  and  linen  which  were  sent  to  him  b}'  the 
rich  Christians  of  the  neighborhood.  A  great  famine  having 
afHicted  Campania  in  539,  he  distributed  to  the  poor  all  the 
provisions  of  the  monastery,  so  that  one  day  there  remained 
only  five  loaves  to  feed  all  the  community.  The  monks  were 
dismayed  and  melancholy :  Benedict  reproached  them  with 
their  cowardice.  "  You  have  not  enough  to-day,"  he  said 
to  them,  "  but  you  shall  have  too  much  to-morrow."  And 
accordingly  they  found  next  morning  at  the  gates  of  the 
monastery  two  hundred  bushels  of  flour,  bestowed  by  some 
unknown  hand.  Thus  were  established  the  foundations  of 
that  traditional  and  unbounded  munificence  to  which  his 
spiritual  descendants  have  remained  unalterably  faithful,  and 
which  was  the  law  and  glory  of  his  existence. 

So  much  sympathy  for  the  poor  naturally  inspired  them 
with  a  blind  confidence  in  him.  One  day,  when  he  had  gone 
out  with  the  brethren  to  labor  in  the  fields,  a  peasant,  dis- 
tracted with  grief,  and  bearing  in  his  arms  the  body  of  his 
dead  son,  came  to  the  monastery  and  demanded  to  see  Father 
Benedict.  When  he  was  told  that  Benedict  was  in  the  fields 
with  his  brethren,  he  threw  down  his  son's  body  before  the 
door,  and,  in  the  transport  of  his  grief,  ran  at  full  speed  to 
seek  the  saint.  He  met  him  returning  from  his  work,  and 
from  the  moment  he  perceived  him,  began  to  cry,  "  Restore 
me  my  son  !  "  Benedict  stopped  and  asked,  "  Have  I  carried 
him  away  ? " ,  The  peasant  answered,  "  He  is  dead ;  come 
and  raise  him  up."  Benedict  was  grieved  by  these  words, 
and  said,  *'  Go  home,  my  friend,  this  is  not  a  work  for  us  ;  this 
belongs  to  the  holy  apostles.  Why  do  you  come  to  impose 
upon  us  so  tremendous  a  burden  ?  "  But  the  father  persisted, 
and  swore  in  his  passionate  distress  that  he  would  not  go  till 
the  saint  had  raised  up  his  son.  The  abbot  asked  him  where 
his  son  was.  "  His  body,"  said  he,  "  is  at  the  door  of  the 
monastery."  Benedict,  when  he  arrived  there,  fell  on  his 
knees,  and  then  laid  himself  down,  as  Elijah  did  in  the  house 

^^  "  Doctrinae  quoque  verbo  non  mediocriter  fulsit."  —  S.  Geeg.,  Dial.,  lib. 
ii.  c.  36. 


320  ST.  BENEDICT, 

of  the  widow  of  Sarepta,  upon  the  body  of  the  child,  and, 
rising  up,  extended  his  hands  to  heaven,  praying  thus: 
'•  Lord,  look  not  upon  my  sins,  but  on  the  faith  of  this  man, 
and  restore  to  the  body  the  soul  thou  hast  taken  away  from 
it."  Scarcely  was  his  prayer  ended,  when  all  present  per- 
ceived that  the  whole  body  of  the  child  trembled.  Benedict 
took  him  by  the  hand,  and  restored  him  to  his  father  full  of 
life  and  health.^^ 

He  protects  His  virtue,  his  fame,  the  supernatural  power 
.njlakistthe  which  was  more  and  more  visible  in  his  whole  life, 
Goths.  made  him  the  natural  protector  of  the  poor  hus- 
bandmen against  the  violence  and  rapine  of  the  new  masters 
ofItal3\  The  great  Theodoric  had  organized  an  energetic 
and  protective  government,  but  he  dishonored  the  end  of  his 
reign  by  persecution  and  cruelty;  and  since  his  death  bar- 
barism had  regained  all  its  ancient  ascendency  among  the 
Goths.  The  rural  populations  groaned  under  the  yoke  of 
these  rude  oppressors,  doubly  exasperated,  as  Barbarians  and 
as  Arians,  against  the  Italian  Catholics.  To  Benedict,  the 
Roman  patrician  who  had  become  a  serf  of  God,  belonged  th^ 
noble  oflSce  of  drawing  towards  each  other  the  Italians  and 
Barbarians,  tv/o  races  cruelly  divided  by  religion,  fortune, 
language,  and  manners,  whose  mutual  hatred  was  embittered 
by  so  many  catastrophes  inflicted  by  the  one  and  suffered  by 
the  other,  since  the  time  of  Alaric.  The  founder  of  Monte 
Cassino  stood  between  the  victors  and  the  vanquished  like 
an  all-powerful  moderator  and  inflexible  judge.  The  facts 
which  we  are  about  to  relate,  according  to  the  narrative  of 
St.  Gregory,  would  be  told  throughout  all  Italy,  and,  spread- 
ing from  cottage  to  cottage,  would  bring  unthought-of  hopo 
and  consolation  into  the  hearts  of  the  oppressed,  and  establish 
the  popularity  of  Benedict  and  his  order  on  an  immortal 
foundation  in  the  memory  of  the  people. 
History  of  It  has  been  seen  that  there  were  already  Goths 
Gaiia.  among  the  monks  at  Subiaco,  and  how  they  were 

employed  in  reclaiming  the  soil  which  their  flithers  had  laid 
waste.  But  there  were  others  who,  inflamed  by  heresy, 
professed  a  hatred  of  all  that  was  orthodox  and  belonged  to 
monastic  life.  One  especially,  named  Galla,  traversed  the 
country  panting  with  rage  and  cupidity,  and  made  a  sport  of 

'•'  "  Eedde  filium  meum.  .  .  .  Nuniquid  ego  filium  tuum  abstuli?  .  .  . 
Regrediente  anima,  ita  coipusoulum  jiucri  onine  contreninit,  ut  sub  oculis 
omnium  qui  aderant  apparuerit  concu»sione  mirifica  trcmendo  palpitasse."  — 
S.  Greg.,  Dial.,  lib.  ii.  32. 


ST.    BENEDICT.  321 

slaying  the  priests  and  monks  who  fell  under  liis  power,  and 
spoiling  and  torturing  the  people  to  extort  from  them  the 
little  that  they  had  remaining.  An  unfortunate  peasant,  ex- 
hausted by  the  torments  inflicted  upon  him  by  the  pitiless 
Goth,  conceived  the  idea  of  bringing  them  to  an  end  by  de- 
claring that  he  had  confided  all  that  he  had  to  the  keeping 
of  Benedict,  a  servant  of  God  ;  upon  which  Galla  stopped  the 
torture  of  the  peasant,  but,  binding  his  arms  with  ropes,  and 
thrusting  him  in  front  of  his  own  horse,  ordered  him  to  go 
before  and  show  the  way  to  the  house  of  this  Benedict  who 
had  defrauded  him  of  his  expected  prey.  Both  pursued  thus 
the  way  to  Monte  Cassino;  the  peasant  on  foot,  with  his 
hands  tied  behind  his  back,  urged  on  by  the  blows  and  taunts 
of  the  Goth,  who  followed  on  horseback,  an  image  only  too 
faithful  of  the  two  races  which  unhappy  Italy  enclosed  within 
her  distracted  bosom,  and  which  were  to  be  judged  and  re- 
conciled by  the  unarmed  majesty  of  monastic  goodness. 
When  they  had  reached  the  summit  of  the  mountain  they 
perceived  the  abbot  seated  alone,  reading  at  tlie  door  of  his 
monastery.  "  Behold,"  said  the  prisoner,  turning  to  his 
tyrant,  "  there  is  the  Father  Benedict  of  whom  I  told  thee." 
The  Goth,  believing  that  here,  as  elsewhere,  he  should  be 
able  to  make  his  w^ay  by  terror,  immediately  called  out  with 
a  furiuus  tune  to  the  monk,  ''  Rise  up,  rise  up,  and  restore 
quickly  what  thou  hast  received  from  this  peasant."  At 
these  w^ords  the  man  of  God  raised  his  eyes  from  his  book, 
and,  without  speaking,  slowly  turned  his  gaze  first  upon  the 
Barbarian  on  horseback,  and  then  upon  the  husbandman 
bound,  and  bowed  down  by  his  bonds.  Under  the  light  of 
that  powerful  gaze  the  cords  which  tied  his  poor  arms  loosed 
of  themselves,  and  the  innocent  victim  stood  erect  and  free, 
while  the  ferocious  Galla,  falling  on  the  ground,  trembling, 
and  beside  himself,  remained  at  the  feet  of  Benedict,  begging 
the  saint  to  pray  for  him.  Without  interrupting  his  reading, 
Benedict  called  his  brethren,  and  directed  them,  to  carry  the 
fainting  Barbarian  into  the  monastery,  and  give  him  some 
blessed  bread  ;  and,  when  he  had  come  to  himself,  the  abbot 
represented  to  him  the  extravagance,  injustice,  and  cruelty 
of  his  conduct,  and  exhorted  him  to  change  it  for  the  future. 
The  Goth  was  completely  subdued,  and  no  longer  dared  to 
ask  anything  of  the  laborer  whom  the  mere  glance  of  the 
monk  had  delivered  from  his  bonds.^ 

**  ''  Avaritiae  suae   aestu  succensus,  in  rapinain  verura  inhians  .  .  .  ejui 


322  ST.  BENEDICT. 

Interview  But  tilis  mysterious  attraction,  which  drew  tho 
BenorHct  Goths  Under  the  influence  of  Benedict's  looks  and 
Bad  Totiia.  ^vQj.fjg^  produced  another  celebrated  and  significant 
542.  scene.  The  two  principal  elements  of  reviving  so- 
ciety in  their  most  striking  impersonation — the  victorious 
Barbarians  and  the  invincible  monks  —  were  here  confronted. 
Totiia,  the  greatest  of  the  successors  of  Theodoric,  ascended 
the  throne  in  542,  and  immediatel}^  undertook  the  restoration 
of  the  monarchy  of  the  Ostrogoths,  which  the  victories  of 
Belisariushad  half  overthrown.  Having  defeated  at  Faenza, 
with  only  five  thousand  men,  the  numerous  Bj'zantine  army, 
led  by  the  incapable  commanders  whom  the  jealousy  of 
Justinian  had  substituted  for  Belisarius,  the  victorious  king 
made  a  triumphal  progress  through  Central  Italy,  and  was  on 
his  way  to  Naples  when  he  was  seized  with  a  desire  to  see 
this  Benedict,  whose  fame  was  already  as  great  among  the 
Romans  as  among  the  Barbarians,  and  who  was  everywhere 
called  a  prophet.  He  directed  his  steps  towards  Monte  Cas- 
sino,  and  caused  his  visit  to  be  announced.  Benedict  an- 
swered that  he  would  receive  him.  But  Totiia.  desirous  of 
proving  the  prophetic  spirit  which  was  attributed  to  the 
saint,  dressed  the  captain  of  his  guard  in  the  royal  robes  and 
purple  boots,  which  were  the  distinctive  mark  of  royalty, 
gave  him  a  numerous  escort,  commanded  by  the  three  counts 
who  usually  guarded  his  own  person,  and  charged  him,  thus 
clothed  and  accompanied,  to  present  himself  to  the  abbot  as 
the  king.35  The  moment  that  Benedict  perceived  him,  ''  My 
son,"  he  cried,"  put  off  the  dress  you  wear;  it  is  not  j'ours.'' 
The  officer  immediately  threw  himself  upon  the  ground, 
appalled  at  the  idea  of  having  attempted  to  deceive  such  a 
joaan.  Neither  he  nor  any  of  the  retinue  ventured  so  much 
as  to  approach  the  abbot,  but  returned  at  full  speed  to  the 

brncliia  loris  fortibus  astringens,  ante  equum  suura  coepit  impellere  .  .  . 
quein,  iigatis  hracliiis,  rusticus  antecedens  duxit.  .  .  .  Eidem  subsequenti  et 
ssevienti  dixit:  Ecce  iste  est  de  quo  dixeram  te,  Benedictus  pater.  .  .  . 
Surge,  surge,  et  res  istius  rustici  redde  quas  accepisti.  .  .  .  Ad  cujus  brachia 
Anm  oculos  detlexisset  .  .  .  eunique  is  qui  ligatus  veniret  ccepisset  subito  as- 
tare  solutus.  .  .  .  Tremefactus  Galla  ad  tei-ram  corruit,  et  cervicem  erudeli- 
tatis  rigidce  ad  ejus  vestigia  inclinans.  .  .  .  Qui  fractus  recedens."  —  S. 
GuEG.,  Dial.,  ii.  31.  Tbis  miracle  is  representee'  on  one  of  the  capitals  of 
the  beautiful  and  curious  church  of  St.  Benoit-si.r-Loire,  in  the  diocese  of 
Orleans. 

^'  "  Cui  dum  protinus  niandatum  de  naonasterio  fuisset  ut  veniret.  Spa- 
tnarius.  .  .  .  Tres  qui  sibi  prse  caeteris  adhaerere  "^lonsueverat.  .  .  ."  —  S. 
Greo.,  lib.  ii.  c.  14.  The  spatharius  was  called  Rigj,o,  and  the  thret  countSt 
V^ulteiic,  Ruderic,  and  Blindin. 


ST.  BENEDICT.  323 

king,  to  tell  him  how  promptly  they  had  been  discovered. 
Then  Totila  himself  ascended  the  monastic  mountain;  but 
when  ho  had  reached  the  height,  and  saw  from  a  distance  the 
abb(jt  seated,  waiting  for  him,  the  victor  of  the  Romans  and 
the  master  of  Italy  was  afraid.  He  dared  not  advance,  but 
threw  himself  on  his  face  before  the  servant  of  Christ.  Bene- 
dict said  to  him  three  times,  "  Rise."  But  as  he  persisted  in 
his  prostration,  the  monk  rose  from  his  seat  and  raised  him 
up.  During  the  course  of  their  interview,  Benedict  reproved 
him  for  all  that  was  blamable  in  his  life,  and  predicted  whit 
should  happen  to  him  in  the  future.  "  You  have  done  much 
evil ;  3'ou  do  it  still  every  day  ;  it  is  time  that  your  iniquities 
should  cease.  You  shall  enter  Rome ;  you  shall  cross  the 
sea;  you  shall  reign  nine  years,  and  the  tenth  you  shall  die." 
The  king,  deeply  moved,  commended  himself  to  his  prayers, 
and  withdrew.  But  he  carried  away  in  his  heart  this  salu- 
tary and  retributive  incident,  and  from  that  time  his  barba- 
rian nature  was  transformed.^^ 

Totila  was  as  victorious  as  Benedict  had  predicted  he  should 
be.  He  possessed  himself  first  of  Benevento  and  Naples, 
then  of  Rome,  then  of  Sicily,  which  he  invaded  with  a  fleet 
of  five  hundred  ships,  and  ended  by  conquering  Corsica  and 
Sardinia.  But  he  exhibited  everywhere  a  clemency  and 
gentleness  which,  to  the  historian  of  the  Goths,  seem  out  of 
character  at  once  with  his  origin  and  his  position  as  a  foreign 
conqueror.27  He  treated  the  Neapolitans  as  his  children,  and 
the  captive  soldiers  as  his  own  troops,  gaining  himself  immor- 
tal honor  by  the  contrast  between  his  conduct  and  the  horri- 
ble massacre  of  the  whole  population,  which  the  Greeks  had 
perpetrated,  ten  years  before,  when  that  town  was  taken  by 
Belisarius.  He  punished  with  death  one  of  his  bravest  offi- 
cers, who  had  insulted  the  daughter  of  an  obscure  Italian,  and 
gave  all  liis  goods  to  the  woman  whom  he  had  injured,  and  that 
despite  the  representations  of  the  principal  nobles  of  his  own 

"  "  Quern  cum  a  longe  sedentem  cerneret,  non  ausus  accedere  sese  in  ter- 
ram  dedit  .  .  .  :  Surge,  sed  ipse  ante  euin  de  terra  erigere  se  non  auderet. 
.  .  .  Jesu  Christi  famulus  per  semetipsum  dignatus  est  accedere  ad  regem 
prostratum,  queni  de  terra  levavit.  .  .  .  Ex  illo  jam  tempore,  minus  cru- 
delis  fuit."  —  S.  Greg.,  lib.  ii.  c.  14.  There  is  in  tlie  church  of  the  Bene- 
dictines of  San  Miniato,  near  Florence,  a  curious  fresco  by  one  of  the  most 
ancient  painters  of  the  great  Florentine  school,  Spinello  Aretino,  which  rep- 
resents this  historical  scene  in  an  impressive  and  primitive  manner. 

'•'''  '•  Benignitas  qu£e  illique  nee  barbaro,  nee  hosti  satis  convenit  .  .  .  unde 
factum  est  ut  ejus  nomen  ut  sapientiae,  ita  et  benignitatis  celebre  apud  Roma- 
nos  jam  esset."  —  Peocop.,  i)e  ^e^Z.  Goth.,  i.  3.  Compare  the  Count  Do 
BuAT,  Ilistoh-e  Ancienne  des  Peuples  de  I' Europe,  t.  x.  pp.  320,  329,  iH. 


324  ST.  Bi:NEDICT. 

nation,  whom  he  convinced  of  the  necessity  for  so  severe  a 
measure,  that  the}'  might  merit  the  protection  of  God  upon 
their  arms.  When  Rome  surrendered,  after  a  prolonged 
siege,  Totila  forbade  the  Goths  to  shed  the  blood  of  any 
Roman,  and  protected  the  women  from  insult.  At  the  prayer 
of  Belisarius  he  spared  the  city  which  he  had  begun  to 
destroy,  and  even  employed  himself,  at  a  later  period,  in  re- 
building and  re-peopling  it.  At  length,  after  a  ten  years' 
reign,  he  fell,  according  to  the  prediction  of  Bene- 
dict, in  a  gi-eat  battle  which  he  fought  with  the 
<i»reoo-Roman  army,  commanded  by  the  eunuch  Narses.  The 
glory  and  power  of  the  Goths  fell  with  him  and  his  successor 
Te'ias,  who  died  in  a  similar  manner  the  following  year,  light- 
ing with  heroic  courage  against  the  soldiers  of  Justinian. 
But  it  did  not  consist  with  the  designs  of  God  to  let  Italy 
fall  a  second  time  under  the  enervating  yoke  of  the  Byzan- 
tine Cassars.  The  rule  of  the  Barbarians,  although  hard  and 
bloody,  was  more  for  her  welfare.  Venice  and  Florence, 
Pisa  and  Genoa,  and  many  other  immortal  centres  of  valor 
and  life,  could  issue  from  that  swa}',  whilst  the  incorporation 
ot  Ital}'  with  the  Lower  Empire  would  have  condemned  her 
to  the  incurable  degradation  of  the  Christian  East. 
TheLom-  The  Ostrogoths  had   scarcely  disappeared  when 

bards.  ^j^g  Lombards,  imprudently  called  in  by  Narses  him- 

self, came  at  once  to   replace,  to  punish,  and  to  make  them 
regretted,  by  aggravating  the  fate  of  the  Peninsula. 

Placed  as  if  midway  between  the  two  invasions  of  the  Goths 
and  Lombards,  the  dear  and  hoi}'  foundation  of  Benedict,  re- 
spected by  the  one,  was  to  yield  for  a  time  to  the  rage  of  the 
other.  The  holy  patriarch  had  a  presentiment  that  his  suc- 
cessors would  not  meet  a  second  Totila  to  listen  to  tliem  and 
spare  them.  A  noble  whom  he  had  converted,  and  who  lived 
on  familiar  terms  with  him,  found  him  one  day  weeping  bit- 
terly. He  watched  Benedict  for  a  long  time  ;  and  then,  per- 
ceiving that  his  tears  wei-e  not  stayed,  and  that  they  proceeded 
not  from  the  ordinary  fervor  of  his  prayers,  but  from  profound 
melancholy,  he  asked  the  cause.  The  saint  answered,  "  This 
UKjnastery  which  I  have  built,  and  all  that  1  have  prepared 
Ibr  my  brethren,  has  been  delivered  up  to  the  pagans  by  a 
sentence  of  Almighty  God.  Scarcely  have  L  been  able  to 
obtain  mercy  for  tlieir  lives!"  Less  than  forty  years  after, 
this  prediction  was  accomplished  by  the  destruction  of  Monte 
Cassino  by  the  Luujbards. 

Benedict,  however,  was  near  the  end  of  his  career.     His  iu- 


ST.  BENEDICT.  325 

lerview  with  Totila  took  place  in  542,  in  the  year  st.  seho- 
which  preceded  his  death;  and  from  the  earliest  days  '"^'^'<'*- 
of  the  following  yeai",  God  prepared  him  for  his  last  struggle, 
by  requiring  from  him  the  sacrifice  of  the  most  tender  affec- 
tion he  had  retained  on  earth.  In  the  history  of  most  saints 
who  have  exercised  a  reformatory  and  lasting  influence  upon 
monastic  institutions,  the  name  and  influence  of  some  holy 
woman  is  almost  invariably  found  associated  with  their  work 
and  devotedness.  These  bold  combatants  in  the  war  of  the 
Spirit  against  the  flesh  seemed  to  have  drawn  strength  and 
consolation  from  a  chaste  and  fervent  community  of  sacrifices, 
prayers,  and  virtues,  with  a  mother  or  sister  by  l)lood  or 
choice,  whose  sanctity  shed  upon  one  corner  of  their  glorious 
life  a  ray  of  sweeter  and  more  familiar  light.  To  instance 
only  the  greatest:  Macrine  is  seen  at  the  side  of  St.  Basil, 
and  the  names  of  Monica  and  Augustine  are  inseparable  ;  as 
in  later  ages  are  those  of  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  and  St.  Clara, 
St.  Francis  de  Sales  and  St.  Jeanne  de  Chantal. 

St.  Benedict  had  also  a  sister,  born  on  the  same  day  with 
In'mself,  named  Scholastica :  they  loved  each  other  as  twins 
often  love,  with  fraternal  regard,  elevated  into  a  passion. 
But  both  loved  God  above  all.  Still  earlier  than  her  brother, 
Scholastica  had  consecrated  herself  to  God  from  her  infancy; 
and  in  becoming  a  nun,-^^  she  made  herself  the  patroness  and 
model  of  the  innumerable  family  of  virgins  who  were  to  ac- 
knowledge, adopt,  and  follow  the  code  of  her  brother.  She 
rejoined  him  at  Monte  Cassino,  and  established  herself  in  a 
monaster}',  in  the  depths  of  a  valley  near  the  holy  moun- 
tain.^9  Benedict  directed  her  from  afar,  as  he  did  many  other 
nuns  in  the  neighborhood.*^  But  they  met  only  once  a  year; 
and  then  it  was  Scholastica  who  left  her  cloister  and  sought 

^*  This  act  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  decrees  made  by  the  Pope  St.  Leo 
and  the  Emperor  Majorian,  wlio  interdicted  women  from  taking  the  veil  be- 
fore they  had  reached  the  age  of  forty.  In  those  decrees,  the  solemn  bene- 
diction, which  is  equivalent  to  what  we  now  call  the  solemn  or  perpetual 
vows,  is  alone  referred  to.  —  See  Thomassin,  Vetits  ac  Nova  Disciplina, 
f  iirs.  i.  lib.  iii.  c.  58.  There  were  then,  and  had  long  been,  several  kinds  of 
nuns.  Some  lived  in  isolated  cells,  as  recluses;  others  remained,  binding 
themselves  to  certain  observances,  in  the  bosom  of  their  family;  and  otliers 
lived  in  a  nunnery  under  a  superior,  and  with  a  fixed  rule.  Mabillon  has 
proved,  against  the  Bollandistes,  that  Scholastica  ought  to  be  ranked  among 
the  latter.  He  has  entitled  her  Virginvm  Benedictinarum  Duccm,  Magis- 
tram,  et  Antesignanam. 

^*  It  is  supposed  that  this  monastery  was  that  of  Plumbariola.  rebuilt 
afterwards  for  the  wife  and  daughter  of  a  king  of  the  Lombards,  wtio  be- 
came a  monk  of  Monte  Cassino. 

*"  S.  Greg.,  Dial.,  ii.  c.  12,  23,  33. 
YOL.  I.  28 


326  ST.    BENEDICT. 

her  brother.  He.  on  his  side,  went  to  meet  her :  they  met 
upon  the  side  of  the  mountain,  not  far  from  the  door  of  the 
monaster}^  in  a  spot  which  has  been  long  venerated. 

There,  at  their  last  meeting,  occurred  that  struggle  of  fra- 
ternal love  with  the  austerity  of  the  rule,  which  is  the  only 
known  episode  in  the  life  of  Scholastica,  and  which  has  insured 
an  imperishable  remembrance  to  her  name.  The}^  had  passed 
the  entire  day  in  pious  conversation,  mingled  with  praises  of 
God.  Towards  the  evening  they  ate  together.  While  they 
were  still  at  table,  and  the  night  approached.  Scholastica  said 
h)  her  brother.  '^  I  pray  thee  do  not  leave  me  to-night,  but  let 
us  speak  of  the  joys  of  heaven  till  the  morning."  ■'  What 
sayest  thou,  my  sister?"  answered  Benedict;  "on  no  ac- 
count can  I  remain  out  of  the  monastery."  Upon  the  refusal 
of  her  brother,  Scholastica  bent  her  head  between  her  clasped 
hands  on  the  table,  and  prayed  to  God,  shedding  torrents  of 
tears  to  such  an  extent  that  the  table  was  flooded  with  them. 
The  weather  was  very  serene :  there  was  not  a  cloud  in  the 
air.  But  scarcely  had  she  raised  her  head,  when  thunder 
was  heard,  and  a  violent  storm  began  ;  the  rain,  lightning, 
and  thunder  were  such,  that  neither  Benedict  nor  any  of  the 
bretliren  who  accompanied  him  could  take  a  step  beyond  the 
roof  that  sheltered  them.  Then  he  said  to  Scholastica,  '•  May 
God  pardon  thee,  my  sister,  but  what  hast  thou  done?" 
"  Ah,  yes,"  she  answered  him,  "  I  prayed  thee,  and  thou 
wuuldst  not  listen  to  me  ;  then  1  praj^ed  God,  and  he  heard 
me.  Go  now,  if  thou  canst,  and  send  me  away,  to  return  to 
thy  monaster}'."  ^^  He  resigned  himself  against  his  will  to 
remain,  and  they  passed  the  rest  of  the  night  in  spiritual  con- 
versation. St.  Gregory,  who  has  preserved  this  tale  to  us, 
adds  that  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  God  granted  the  desire 
of  the  sister  rather  than  that  of  the  brother,  because  of  the 
two  it  was  the  sister  who  loved  most,  and  that  those  who  love 
most  have  the  greatest  power  with  God.*^ 
Death  of  In  the  morning  they  parted  to  see  each  other  no 

tiea""**  more  in  this  life.  Three  days  after,  Benedict,  being 
ioth~b-  ^^  ^^^®  window  of  his  cell,  had  a  vision,  in  which  he 
runry,  543.  gaw  his  sister  entering  heaven  under  the  form  of  a 
dove.     Overpowered  with  joy,  his  gratitude  burst  fortli  in 

■"  "  Insertis  digitis  manus  super  mensam  posuit.  .  .  .  Caput  in  manibus 
(Jccliniins  lacryir.arum  fluvium  in  mensam  fuderat.  .  .  .  Parcat  tibi  omnipo- 
ti'i'.s  J'eus,  soror!  quid  est  quod  fecisti?  .  .  .  Ecee  te  rogavi  et  audire  me 
noiuisii.  .  .  .  Modo  ergo,  si  potes,  egredere,  et,  me  dimissa,  ad  monasteriuia 
recede." —  S.  Greg.,  Dial.,  ii.  33. 

"  "  Justo  valde  julicio  ilia  plus  potuit  quae  amplius  amavit."  —  S.  Greg. 


ST.    BENEDICT.  327 

eongs  and  hymns  to  the  glory  of  God.  He  immediatelj'  sent 
for  the  body  of  the  saint,  which  was  brought  to  Monte  Cassino, 
and  placed  in  the  sepulchre  which  he  had  already  prepared 
for  himself,  that  death  might  not  separate  those  whose  souls 
had  always  been  united  in  God. 

The   death   of  his   sister  was  the   signal  of  departure  for 
himself     He  survived   her  only  forty  days.     He  announced 
his   death  to   several   of  his  monks,  then   far  from   pp^thof 
Monte  Cassino.     A  violent  fever  having  seized  him,   Benedict. 
he  caused  himself,  on  the  sixth  day  of  his  sickness,  21st  March, 
to  be  carried  into  the   chapel  consecrated  to  John  ^^^' 
the    Baptist :  he   had    before   ordered  the  tomb  in  which  his 
sister  already  slept  to  be  opened.     There,  supported  in  the 
arms   of  his   disciples,  he   received   the  holy  viaticum  ;  then 
placing  himself  at  the  side  of  the  open  grave,  but  at  the  foot 
of  the  altar,  and  with  his  arms  extended  towards  heaven,  he 
died  standing,  murmuring  a  last  prayer.*^ 

Died  standing  !  —  such  a  victorious  death  became  well  that 
great  soldier  of  God. 

He  was  buried  by  the  side  of  Scholastica,  in  a  sepulchre 
made  on  the  spot  where  stood  the  altar  of  Apollo  which  he 
had  thrown  down.*^  On  that  day  two  monks,  one  of  wdiora 
was  in  the  monastery  and  the  other  on  a  journey,  had  the 
same  vision.  They  saw  a  multitude  of  stars  form  into  a  shin- 
ing pathway,  which  extended  towards  the  east,  from  Monte 
Cassino  up  to  heaven,  and  heard  a  voice  which  said  to  them, 
that  by  this  road  Benedict,  the  well-beloved  of  God,  had 
ascended  to  heaven.^^ 


II.  — HIS    KULE. 

EteuiiD  benedictionem  dabit  legislator :  ibunt  de  virtute  in  virtutem.  —  Ps.  Ixxxiii.  6,  7. 

Di  lui  si  feeer  poi  diversi  rivi 
Onde  1'  orto  cattolico  si  riga 
Si  che  i  8U0I  arbuscelli  Stan  piu  vivi. 

Paradiso,  c.  xii. 

Such  was  the  life  of  the  great  man  whom  God  Ruieofst. 
destined  to  be  the  legislator  of  the  monks  of  the  Benedict. 

*'  '  Erectis  in  coelum  manibus  stetit,  et  ultimum  spiritura  inter  verba  ora- 
tionis  efaavit."  —  S.  Greg. 

'*'*  Their  tomb  is  still  seen  under  the  high  altar  of  the  present  church  of 
Monte  Cassino.  The  inscription  :  "  Benedictum  et  Scholasticam,  uno  in  ter- 
ris  partu  editos,  una  in  Deum  pietate  coelo  redditos,  unus  hie  excipit  tumulus, 
niortalis  depositi  pro  aeternitate  custos."  I  owe  the  reproduction  of  all  those 
little-known  inscriptions  to  the  benevolent  and  scrupulous  exactness  of  Mgr, 
La  Croix,  ecclesiastical  representative  of  France  at  Rome. 

*^  S.  Gbeg.,  ii.  37. 


328  ST.  BENEDICT. 

"West.  It  remains  to  us  to  characterize  his  legislation,  that 
is  to  say,  the  rule  which  he  has  written,  and  which  has  been 
the  undying  code  of  the  most  august  and  fertile  branch  of 
the  ecclesiastical  army. 

The  first  ^®  must  first  observe  that  this  rule  is  the  first 

ma.ieror  which  has  been  written  in  the  West  and  for  the 
West.  Up  to  that  time,  the  monks  of  this  half  of 
the  Roman  world  had  lived  under  the  authority  of  rules  im- 
ported from  the  East,  like  that  of  St.  Basil,  or  of  traditions 
borrowed  from  the  monks  of  Egypt  or  Syria,  like  those  of 
"vvhich  Cassianus  had  given  so  complete  a  collection.  St. 
Benedict  did  not  assume  either  to  overthrow  or  replace  the 
authority  of  these  monuments,  which,  on  the  contrary,  he 
recalled  and  recommended  in  his  own  rule.^^  But  the  sad 
experience  of  his  beginning,  of  all  that  he  had  seen  and  suf 
fered  in  his  3^outh  as  anchorite,  cenobite,  and  superior,  had 
convinced  him  of  the  insufficiency  of  the  laws  by  which  tlie 
Religious  of  his  own  time  and  country  were  governed.  He 
perceived  that  it  was  necessary,  for  the  suppression  of  the 
laxness  which  appeared  everywhere,  to  substitute  a  perma- 
nent and  uniform  rule  of  government,  for  the  arbitrary  and 
variable  choice  of  models  furnished  by  the  lives  of  the  Fa- 
thers of  the  Desert,  and  to  add  to  the  somewhat  confused  and 
vague  precepts  of  Pacome  and  Basil  a  selection  of  precise 
and  methodical  rules  derived  as  much  from  the  lessons  of  the 
past,  as  from  his  own  personal  experience.  His  illustrious 
biographer  instructs  us  to  see  in  his  rule  an  exact  reproduc- 
tion of  his  own  life  in  the  cloister.'^'' 

He  undertook,  then,  to  reform  the  abuses  and  infirmities 
of  the  order  which  he  had  embraced,  by  a  series  of  moral, 
social,  liturgical,  and  penal  ordinances,  the  entire  collection 
of  which  constitutes  that  Rule  which,  in  immortalizing  his 
name  and  work,  has  given  to  the  monastic  institute  in  the 
West  its  definitive  and  universal  form.^^ 

••«  C.  73.  *    S.  Greg.,  ii.  36. 

*®  We  should  remind  our  readers  here  that  the  Church  recognized  four 
principal  rules,  under  which  miglit  be  classed  almost  all  the  religious  orders  : 
1st,  That  of  St.  Basil,  wliich  prevailed  by  degrees  over  all  the  others  in  the 
East,  and  which  is  retained  by  all  the  Oriental  monks  :  2d,  That  of  St.  Au- 
gustine, adopted  by  tlie  regular  canons,  the  order  of  Premontre,  the  order  of 
the  Preacliing  brothers  or  Dominicans,  and  several  military  orders  :  3d, 
That  of  St.  Benedict,  which,  adopted  successively  by  all  the  monks  of  the 
West,  still  remained  the  common  rule  of  the  monastic  order,  properly  so 
called,  up  to  the  thirteenth  century ;  the  orders  of  the  Camaldules,  of  Val- 
lombrosa.  of  tlie  Carthusians,  and  of  Citeaux,  recognize  this  rule  as  the 
basis  of  their  special  constitutions,  although  the  najue  of  monk  of  St.  Bene 


ST.  BENEDICT.  3211 

Lot  us  lirtten  to  liis  own  exposition,  in  bis  preamble,  of  tbe 
spirit  and  aim  of  his  reform,  given  in  a  style  pecuh'ar  to  him- 
self, tbe  somewhat  confused  simplicity  of  which  dilFers  aa 
ninch  from  the  flowing  language  of  St.  Augustine  and  St. 
Gregory  as  from  tbe  correct  elegance  of  Cicero  or  Caesar :  — 

"  Listen,  oh  son  I^^   to  the  precepts  of  the  Master,   xhefunda- 
and    incline  to   him   the  ear  of  thy  heart;    do  not   ™';"^'^i  . 
fear  to  receive  the  counsel  of  a  good  father  and  to   Ku'ieox- 
fuIHl  it  fully,  that  thy  laborious  obedience  may  lead  f,?" ','re-'' *" 
thee    back  to   Him    from   whom   disobedience    and   "mbie. 
weakness  have  alienated  thee.     To  tbee,  whoever  thou  art, 
who  renouncest  thine  own  Avill  to  fight  under  the  true  King, 
the    Lord  Jesus    Ciirist,  and  takest   in   hand  the  valiant   and 
glorious  weapons  of  obedience,  are  my  words  at  this  moment 
addressed. 

^'  And  in  the  first  place,  in  all  the  good  tbou  undertakest,  ask 
of  him,  in  earnest  prayer,  that  he  would  bring  it  to  a  good 
end  ;  that  having  condescended  to  reckon  us  among  his  chil- 
dren, he  may  never  be  grieved  by  our  evil  actions.  Obey 
him  always,  by  the  help  of  his  grace,  in  such  a  way  that  the 
irritated  Father  may  not  one  day  disinherit  his  children,  and 
that  also  the  terrible  Master,  enraged  by  our  perverse  deeds, 
may  not  give  up  his  guilty  servants  to  unending  punishment 
because  they  would  not  follow  him  into  glory. 

"  Then,  let  us  rise  up  in  answer  to  that  exhortation  of 
Scripture  which  says  to  us,  '  It  is  time  for  us  to  awake  out 
of  sleep.'  And  witli  eyes  open  to  the  light  of  God  and  atten- 
tive ears,  let  us  listen  to  the  daily  cry  of  the  X)ivine  voice  : 
•Come,  my  son,  hearken  unto  me  ;  I  will  teach  you  the  fear 
of  the  Lord.  Work  while  it  is  day  ;  the  night  cometh,  when 
no  man  can  work.' 

diet  or  Benedictine  monk  may  still  be  specially  assigned  to  others  :  4th  and 
last.  Tile  rale  of  St.  Francis,  whicli  signalized  the  advent  of  the  Mendicant 
Olders  at  the  tliirteenth  century.  We  ^hall  further  remark,  that  the  denomi- 
nation of  wnnks  is  not  generally  attributed  to  the  Religious  who  follow  the 
rule  of  St.  Augusiin,  nor  to  the  mendicant  orders. 

Tiie  rule  of  St.  Benedict  has  been  published  very  often  with  and  without 
commentaries.  The  most  esteemed  of  the  commentaries  is  that  of  Doni 
Martene,  Paris,  IGOO,  in  4to.  That  of  Dom  Calmet,  Paris,  1734,  2  vols., 
may  also  be  consulted  with  advantage. 

Tlio  most  recent  and  most  correct  edition  of  the  Ruie  we  know  is  that 
which  has  been  given  by  Dom  Charles  Brandes,  Benedictine  of  Einsiedeln, 
will)  a  commentary  and  the  history  of  the  life  of  the  patriarch,  in  tliree 
volumes.     Einsiedeln  and  New  York,  1857. 

*^  It  is  necessary  to  note,  for  C-hristian  iconography,  these  first  words 
Ausculta,  0  fili  !  which  painters  of  the  middle  ages  are  accustomed  fo  re 
produce  on  the  book  which  they  put  in  the  hands  of  St.  Benedict. 

28* 


330  ST.  BENEDICT. 

''  Now,  the  Lord,  who  seeks  his  servant  in  the  midst  of  the 
people,  still  says  to  him,  '  What  man  is  he  that  desireth  life 
and  loveth  many  days,  that  he  may  see  good?  '  When  if,  at 
that  word,  thou  answerest,  *  It  is  1,'  the  Lord  will  say  to 
thee,  '  If  thou  wouldest  have  life,  keep  thy  tongue  from  evil, 
and  thy  lips  from  speaking  guile.  Depart  from  evil,  and  do 
good  :  seek  peace,  and  pursue  it.'  And  that  being  done, 
*  Then  shall  ray  e3^es  be  upon  you,  and  my  ears  shall  be  open 
to  your  cry.  And,  even  before  thou  callestme,  I  shall  say  to 
thee,  Here  am  I  ! ' 

"  What  can  be  more  sweet,  0  beloved  brethren,  than  the 
voice  of  the  Lord  urging  us  thus?  By  this  means  the  Lord, 
in  his  paternal  love,  shows  us  the  way  of  life.  Let  us  then 
gird  our  loins  with  faith  and  good  works;  and  with  our  feet 
shod  with  the  preparation  of  the  gospel,  let  us  follow  upon 
his  footsteps,  that  we  may  be  worthy  of  seeing  him  who  has 
called  us  to  his  kingdom.  If  we  would  find  a  place  in  the 
tabernacle  of  that  kingdom,  we  must  seek  it  by  good  works, 
without  which  none  can  enter  there. 

"  For  let  us  inquire  at  the  Lord  with  the  prophet  .  .  .  then 
listen  to  the  answer  He  gives  :  .  .  .  He  who  shall  rest  in  the 
holy  mountain  of  God  is  he  who,  being  tempted  by  the  devil, 
casts  him  and  his  counsel  far  from  his  heart,  sets  him  at 
defiance,  and,  seizing  the  first  off-shoots  of  sin,  like  new-born 
children,  breaks  them  to  pieces  at  the  feet  of  Christ.  It 
shall  be  those  who,  faithful  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  shall  not 
exalt  themselves  because  of  their  services,  but  who,  remem- 
bering that  they  can  do  nothing  of  themselves,  and  that  all 
the  good  that  is  in  them  is  wrought  by  God,  glorify  the  Lord 
and  his  works.  .  .  . 

''  The  Lord  waits  continually  to  see  us  answer  by  our 
actions  to  his  holy  precepts.  It  is  for  the  amendment  of 
our  sins  that  the  days  of  our  life  are  prolonged  like  a  dream, 
since  the  Apostle  says  :  '  Art  thou  ignorant  that  the  patience 
of  God  leads  thee  to  repentance  ?  '  And  it  is  in  his  mercy 
that  the  Lord  himself  says:  '  I  desire  not  the  death  of  a  sin- 
ner, but  rather  that  he  should  turn  to  me  and  live.' 

"Having  thus,  my  brethren,  asked  of  the  Lord  who  shall 
dwell  in  his  tabernacle,  we  have  heard  the  precepts  pre- 
scribed to  such  a  one.  If  we  fulfil  these  conditions,  we  shall 
be  heirs  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Let  us  then  prepare  our 
hearts  and  bodies  to  fight  under  a  holy  obedience  to  these 
precepts;  and  if  it  is  not  always  possible  for  nature  to  obey, 
let  us  ask  the  Lord  that  he  would  deign  to  give  us  the  succor 


ST.  BENEDICT.  331 

of  his  grace.  Would  we  avoid  the  pains  of  hell  and  attain 
eternal  life  while  there  is  still  time,  while  we  are  still  in  this 
mortal  body,  and  while  the  light  of  this  life  is  bestowed  upon 
us  for  that  purpose  ;  let  us  run  and  strive  so  as  to  reap  an 
eternal  reward. 

•'  We  must,  then,  form  a  school  of  divine  servitude,  in 
which,  we  trust,  nothing  too  heavy  or  rigorous  will  be  estab- 
lished. But  if.  in  conformity  with  right  and  justice,  we 
should  exercise  a  little  severity  for  the  amendment  of  vices 
or  the  preservation  of  charity,  beware  of  fleeing  under  the 
impulse  of  terror  froip  the  way  of  salvation,  which  cannot 
but  have  a  hard  beginning.  When  a  man  has  walked  for 
some  time  in  obedience  and  faith,  his  heart  will  expand,  and 
he  will  run  with  the  unspeakable  sweetness  of  love  in  the 
way  of  God's  commandments.  Mav  he  grant  that,  never 
straying  from  the  instruction  of  the  Master,  and  persevering 
in  his  doctrine  in  the  monastery  until  death,  we  may  share 
bj''  patience  in  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  and  be  worthy  to 
share  together  his  kingdom."  ^"^ 

In  this  programme  the  saint  insists  on  two  prin-  rp^etwo 
ciples :  action  or  labor,  and  obedience.     These  are  governing 

•      1        1       1  f        ^  11  f    1  •  1         principles : 

indeed   the    two   lundamental   bases  oi    his  work ; 
they  serve  as  a  clew  to  conduct  us   through  the   seventy- 
two   articles  of  the  rule    which  we   shall    now  attempt  to 
describe. 

Benedict  would  not  have  his  monks  limit  them-  Labor. 
selves  to  spiritual  labor,  to  the  action  of  the  soul 
upon  itself:  he  made  external  labor,  manual  or  literary,  a 
strict  obligation  of  his  rule.  Doubtless  the  primitive  ceno- 
bites  had  preached  and  practised  the  necessity  of  labor,  but 
none  had  yet  ordained  and  regulated  it  with  so  much  severity 
and  attentive  solicitude.  In  order  to  banish  indolence,  which 
he  called  the  enemy  of  the  soul,^i  he  regulated  minutely  the 
employment  of  every  hour  of  the  day  according  to  the 
seasons,  and  ordained  that,  after  having  celebrated  the  praises 

*"  "  Ad  te  ergo  nunc  meus  serrao  dirigitur  .  .  .  quisquis  abrenuntians 
propriis  voluntatibus  Domino  Christo  vere  regi  militaturus,  obedientiae  for- 
tissima  atque  prseclara  arma  assumis.  •  .  .  Exsurgamus  ergo  tandem  ali- 
quando.  .  .  .  Quserens  Dominus  .  .  .  operarium  suum.  .  .  .  Quid  dulcius 
nobis  hac  voce  Domini  invitantis  nos?  .  .  .  Qui  nialignum  diabolum  .  .  . 
deduxit  ad  nihiluni,  et  parvulos  cogitatus  ejus   tenuit  et  illisit  ad  Cbristum. 

.  .  Ergo  praeparanda  sunt  corda  et  corpora  nostra  .  .  .  militatura.  .  .  . 
Constituenda  est  ergo  a  nobis  Dominici  scholse  servitii.  .  .  .  Processu  vero 
conversationis  et  fidei,  dilatato  corde,  inenarrabili  dilectionis  duloedine,  cur- 
ritur  via  mandatorum  Dei."  —  Prologus  RegulcB. 

"  "  Otiositas  iniraica  est  animae."  —  Reg.,  c.  48. 


332  ST.  BENEDICT. 

of  God  seven  times  a  day,  seven  hours  a  day  should  be  given 
to  manual  labor,  and  two  hours  to  reading.  He  imposed 
severe  corrections  on  the  brother  who  lost  in  sleep  and  talk- 
ing the  hours  intended  for  reading.  "  If,"  said  he,  "  the 
poverty  of  the  place  compels  them  to  gatlier  their  harvest 
themselves,  let  not  that  grieve  them,  for  they  will  be  truly 
•monks  if  they  live  by  the  labor  of  their  hands,  like  our  fathers 
and  the  apostles.  But  let  all  be  done  with  moderation  be- 
cause of  the  weak."  ^^  Those  who  are  skilled  in  the  practice 
of  an  art  or  trade,  could  only  exercise  it  by  the  permission 
of  the  abbot,  in  all  humility;  and  if  any  one  prided  himself 
on  his  talent,  or  the  profit  which  resulted  from  it  to  the 
house. 5'^  he  was  to  have  his  occupation  changed  until  he  had 
humbled  himself  Those  who  were  charged  with  selling  the 
product  of  the  work  of  these  select  laborers,  could  take  nothing 
from  the  price  to  the  detriment  of  the  monastery,  nor  espe- 
cially could  they  raise  it  avariciously ;  they  were  to  sell  at 
less  cost  than  the  secular  workmen,  to  give  the  greater  glory 
to  God.  Labor  was  thus  regulated  in  the  monastery  as  in  an 
industrial  penitentiary,  and  the  sons  of  the  Roman  patricians 
or  the  Barbarian  nobles  found  themselves  subjected,  in  cross- 
ing its  threshold,  to  a  severe  equality,  which  bound  even  the 
laborer  more  skilful  than  ordinary  monks,  and  reduced  him 
to  the  humble  level  of  an  ordinary  workman. 
Andobedi-  Obedience  is  also  to  his  e3'es  a  work,  ohedientice 
^'^*^'^-  laborem,^^  the  most  meritorious  and  essential  of  all. 

A  monk  entered  into  monastic  life  only  to  make  the  sacrifice 
of  self  This  sacrifice  implied  especially  that  of  the  will.  By 
a  supreme  effort  of  that  will,  still  free  and  master  of  itself,  it 
freely  abdicated  its  power  for  the  salvation  of  the  sick  soul, 
"  in  order  that  tliis  soul,  raising  itself  above  its  desires  and 
passions,  might  establish  itself  fully  upon  God."  ^^  In  giving 
even  the  legitimate  use  of  his  own  will,  the  monk,  obeying  i, 
superior  whom  he  had  spontaneously  chosen,  and  who  was  to 
him  the  representative  of  God  himself,  found  an  assured  de- 
ience  against  covetousness  and  self-love.  He  entered  like  a 
victor  into  the  liberty  of  the  children  of  God.  But  this  sacri- 
fice, to  be  efficacious,  had  to  be  complete.  Thus  the  rule 
pursued  pride  into  its  most  secret  hiding-place.  Submission 
had  to  be  prompt,  perfect,  and  absolute.     The  monk  must 

*^  "  Omnia  autem  mensurate  fiant  propter  pusillanimes."  —  Reg,  c.  48. 
*'  "  Artifices  si  sunt  in  monasterio.  ...  Si  aliquis  ex  eis   extoUitur  pre 
Bcientia  artis  suae." —  Ibid.,  c.  67. 

'*  Prolog  us  Reg.  **  Bossuet. 


ST.  BENEDICT.  3.'>3 

obey  always,  without  reserve,  and  without  murmur,  even  in 
those  things  which  seemed  impossible  and  above  his  strength, 
trusting  in  the  succor  of  God,  if  a  humble  and  seasonable 
remonstrance,  the  only  thing  permitted  to  him,  was  not 
accepted  by  his  superiors ;  to  obey  not  only  his  superiors, 
but  also  the  wishes  and  requests  of  his  bretliern.s^  Obedi 
ence  became  the  more  acceptable  to  God  and  easy  to  man,, 
when  it  was  practised  calmly,  promptly,  and  with  good  will.^^ 
It  became  then  the  first  degree  of  humility.  "  Our  life  in 
this  world,"  said  the  holy  abbot,  ''  is  like  the  ladder  which 
Jacob  saw  in  his  dream  :  in  order  to  reach  heaven,  it  must  be 
planted  by  the  Lord  in  a  humbled  heart:  we  can  only  mount 
it  by  distinct  steps  of  humility  and  discipline."  ^^ 

What  can  we  do  but  lament  over  those  who,  in  this  gener- 
ous abnegation  of  self,  have  seen  only  something  borrowed 
from  the  worship  of  imperial  majesty  in  degenerate  Rome, 
and  a  fatal  present  made  to  Europe  to  weaken  its  own  vir- 
tues ?^9  No,  this  is  neither  a  production  of  social  decay,  nor 
a  sign  of  spiritual  servitude.  It  is,  on  the  contrary,  the 
triumph  of  that  moral  and  spiritual  liberty  of  which  imperial 
Rome  had  lost  all  conception,  which  Christianity  alone  could 
restore  to  the  world,  and  the  reign  of  which,  specially  ex- 
tended and  secured  by  the  Children  of  St.  Benedict,  saved 
Europe  from  the  anarchy,  slavery,  and  decrepitude  into  which 
it  had  been  thrown  by  the  Roman  empire. 

Doubtless   this   passive   and    absolute    obedience 
would,  in    temporal    affairs,   and    under    chiefs    ap-  tempered 
pointed   from  without,  and   governing  according  to  n^turland 
their     interests    or    passions,    become     intolerable   on"-iuof 

r-.i-iici  iiT-)  authority. 

slavery.     But  besides  the  tact  that  among  the  Bene- 
dictines it  was  to  be,  always  and  with  all,  the  result  of  a  free 
determination,  it  was  also   sanctified  and  tempered  by  the 

^^  Cap.  68  et  71.  "  Si  cui  fratri  aliqua  forte  gravia  aut  impossibilia  injun- 
gunlur  ...  si  oinnino  viriuiu  suarum  mcnsuram  viderit  pondus  excedere, 
i!lli)()^^^ibiiitatis  suag  causas  .  .  .  patienter  et  opportune  suggerat,  non  super- 
l/iciulo.  .  .  .  Quod  si  .  .  .  prioris  imperium  perduraverit  .  .  .  scdat  junior 
iia  M.'  expedire,  et,  ex  caritate  confidens  de  adjutorio  Dei,  obediat." 

^'  ••  Non  trepide,  non  tarde,  non  tepide."  —  C.  5. 

^*  "  iScala  voro  ipsa  erecta,  nostra  est  vita  in  sseeulo  :  quae  humiliato  corde 
a  Doinino  erigitur  ad  coelum.  Latera  enim  hujus  scalae  dicimus  nostrum  esse 
corpus  et  animam  :  in  quihus  lateribus  diversos  gradus  humilitatis  vel  disei- 
plhiaj  voeatio  divina  ascendendos  inseruit."  —  C.  7. 

■'^  M.  GuizoT,  Cours  d'Histoire  Moderne,  Utli  le?.  As  the  antidote  of 
this  passage  has  been  omitted  hy  this  great  historian,  generally  better  inspired, 
the  J'ancgyrique  de  St.  Beiwit,  by  Bossuet,  which  is  at  the  same  time  the 
eloquent  and  profound  eulogy  of  the  voluntary  obedience  of  the  Christialu 
should  be  read  for  this  purpose. 


334  ST.  BENEDICT. 

nature  and  origin  of  the  power.  The  abbot  holds  the  place 
of  Christ:  he  can  ordain  nothing  that  is  not  in  conformity 
with  the  law  of  God.  His  charge  is  that  of  the  fatiier  of  a 
family,  and  of  the  good  pastor :  his  life  should  he  the  mirror 
of  his  lessons.  Charged  with  the  important  mission  of  gov- 
erning souls,  he  owes  to  God  the  severest  reckoning,  and 
almost  at  every  page  of  the  rule  is  enjoined  never  to  lose 
sight  of  that  terrible  responsibility.  He  has  not  only  to  rule 
thern,  but  to  heal  them  ;  not  only  to  guide  them,  but  to  sup- 
port them,  and  to  make  himself  the  servant  of  all  whom  he 
governs,  obeying  all,  while  each  obeys  him.  He  must  ac- 
commodate himself  to  the  most  diverse  humors  and  characters, 
but  at  the  same  time  admit  no  respect  of  persons  between 
the  nobles  and  plebeians,  the  freemen  and  the  slaves,  the  rich 
and  the  poor,  who  are  under  his  authority .^*^ 
The  chap-  The  cxercise  of  this  absolute  authorit}'  is  limited, 

t^""-  besides,  by  the  necessity  of  consulting  all  the  monks 

assembled  in  a  council  or  chapter  upon  all  important  business. 
The  abbot  has  to  state  the  subject,  and  to  ask  the  advice  of 
each,  reserving  to  himself  the  right  of  making  the  final  de- 
cision ;  but  the  youngest  must  be  consulted  like  the  others, 
because  God  often  reveals  to  them  the  best  course  to  follo\'^. 
For  lesser  matters,  the  advice  of  the  principal  members  of 
the  monastery  is  sufficient,  but  the  abbot  can  never  act  with- 
out advice.'^i  His  permanent  council  is  composed  of  deans 
or  elders,^^  chosen  by  the  monks  themselves,  not  by  order  of 
seniority,  but  for  their  merit,  charged  with  assisting  the 
abbot,  by  sharing  with  him  the  weight  of  government.  He 
can  also,  by  the  advice  of  these  brethren,  name  a  pi-ior  or  pro- 
vost, to  be  his  lieutenant.*^^     Finally,  the  abbot  himself  is 

*^  "  Difficileni  et  arduam  rem.  .  .  .  Eegore  animas  et  multorura  servire 
moribus  .  .  .  se  omnibus  conformet  et  ajtlet.  .  .  .  Semper  cogitet,  quia  ani- 
mas suscepit  regendas,  de  quibus  et  rationem  redditurus  est." — Reg.,  c.  2. 
Compare  c.  3.  "  Nee  quasi  libera  utens  potestate  injuste  disponat  aliquid; 
sed  cogitet  semper  quia  de  omnibus  judiciis  et  operibus  suis  redditurus  est 
Deo  rationem."  —  C.  G2.  "  Soiatque  sibi  oportere  prodesse  magis  quam 
prteesse."  —  C.  64.  "  Non  praeferatur  ingenuus  ex  servitio  convertenti,  nisi 
alia  rationabilis  causa  existat,  .  .  .  quia,  sive  servus,  sive  liber,  omues  in 
Cliristo  unum  suraus,  et  sub  uno  Domino  sequalem  servitutis  militiam  baju- 
laujus."  —  Reg,c.  2. 

*"  "  Convocet  abbas  omnem  congregationem  .  .  .  et  audiens  consilium 
fratrum,  tractet  apud  se,  et  quod  utilius  judicaverit  faciat.  .  .  .  Omnes  ad 
consilium  vocari  diximus,  quia  saspe  junior!  Dominus  revelat  quod  melius 
est.  .  .  .  Non  praesumant  defendere  procaciter  quod  eis  visum  fuerit."  — 
Ibid.,  c.  3. 

"^  Decani,  Compare  Beg.,  c.  3  and  21.     H-eften.,  Disquis.,  pp.  325,  332. 

"  Reg.,  c.  65. 


ST.    BENEDICT.  335 

elected  b}'  all  the  monks  of  tlie  montisteiy  :  they  may   Kkctions 
choose  the  last  new-comer  amongst  them  to  be  their  o£<he 

1  •     r.  1     1   •  I         -j^  1        abbot. 

chief;  and  once  elected,  his  authority  ceases  only 
with   his  life,*5*     But  in  case  of  the  election  of  an  evidently 
unworth}'  person,  the  bisbop  of  the  diocese,  or  the  neighbor- 
ing abbots,  or  even   the   Christians  of  the  environs,  are  en 
treated  to  prevent  such  a  scandal.^° 

This  absolute  authority  of  the  abbot,  fixed  in  a  rule  which 
ho  is  neitiier  permitted  to  modify  or  transgress,  was  then 
limited  at  once  by  the  unchanging  constitution  of  the  com- 
munity, by  the  necessity  of  consulting  either  an  elect  num- 
ber or  the  whole  body  of  his  subordinates  upon  all  business, 
and  finally  by  the  election  from  which  it  proceeded ;  and  this 
election,  made  by  a  limited  number  of  electors,  all  essentially 
competent,  and  personally  interested  in  their  work,  made  the 
chief  in  reality  the  servant  of  all  those  whom  he  commanded. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  spirit  of  com-  its  anaio^jy 
munity  or  association  was  never  more  strongly  or-  YsaAai  ^ 
ganized.  There  is,  in  this  combination  of  authority,  system. 
at  once  absolute,  permanent,  and  elective,  with  the  necessity 
of  taking  the  advice  of  the  whole  community  and  of  acting 
solely  in  its  interests,  a  now  principle,  to  which  nothing  in 
the  pagan  world  nor  in  the  Lower  Empire  was  analogous  — 
a  principle  which  demonstrated  its  energetic  fertility  by  the 
experience  of  ages.  The  community  drew  an  irresistible 
force  from  the  union  of  these  wills  purified  by  abnegation, 
and  concentrated  towards  one  sole  end  under  a  single  hand, 
which  was  ruled  and  controlled  in  its  turn  by  the  spirit  of 
sacrifice.  Between  the  profiigacy  of  the,  Empire  and  the 
anarchy  of  conquest,  the  Benedictine  cloister,  that  living 
image  of  Christianity,  presented  to  the  decaying  world  a 
system  which  retained  at  once  the  vigorous  discipline  of  the 
Roman  legions  and  that  spirit  of  self-devotion  and  domestic 
unity  remarked  by  Tacitus  in  the  Geiman  guilds. 

It  has  been  said  with  truth,  that  there  exists  in  this  rule 
an  evangelical  foundation  and  a  feudal  form.^^  The  institu- 
tions which  it  founded,  like  the  words  and  images  which  it 
emplo3'ed,  bore  a  certain  warlike  stamp.     It  seemed  to  ex- 

^*  *'  Etiam  si  ultimus  fuerit  in  ordine  congregationis."  —  Reg.,  c.  64. 

^^  At  that  time  a  maJDrity  was  not  requisite :  the  choice  of  the  minority, 
if  better,  might  carry  the  day  :  "  Sive  etiam  pars,  quamvis  parva,  congre- 
gationis, saniori  consilio  elegerit,"  c.  64.  Subsequently,  an  absolute  ma- 
jority of  voters  was  universally  required  to  render  valid  the  election  of  an 
abbot 

**  DoM  FiTKA,  Hist,  de  St.  Leger,  p.  58. 


f\:^()  ST.    BENEDICT. 

tend  a  hand  to   the  feudal  system,  Avhioh  originated  in  tho 
camps  of  the  victorious  Barbarians.     Of  these  two  forces,  the 
one  organized  and  consolidated  material  conquest,  the  other 
created  a  hierarchy  and  army  for  the  conquest  of  souls. 
Org.miza-  The   monastery,  like   a   citadel  always  besieged, 

coi'imu*'^^  was  to  have  within  its  enclosure  gardens,  a  mill,  a 
"'f>'-  baker}^,  and  various   workshops,   in  order   that   no 

necessity  of  material  life  should  occasion  the  monks  to  leave 
its  walls.^''  A  certain  number  of  Religious,  whom  the  abbot 
judged  worthy,  might  be  raised  to  the  priesthood,  for  the 
spiritual  service  of  the  house,  without  ceasing,  on  that 
account,  to  be  subject  to  ordinary  discipline.^^ 

One  monk,  chosen  from  among  the  most  worthy,  under  the 
title  of  cellarer,  was  specially  charged  with  the  administration 
of  the  goods  of  the  monastery,  the  distribution  of  Ibod,  the 
care  of  the  furniture,  of  the  hospital,  and,  in  a  word,  with 
all  the  details  of  material  life.^^  Finally,  the  mo>^t  generous 
and  delicate  hospitality  was  enjoined  towards  the  poor  and 
all  the  strangers  who  should  visit  the  monastery ;  this  was 
to  be  exercised  b>'  the  direct  care  of  the  abbot,™  but  without 
disturbing  the  solitude  of  the  monks,  or  the  silence  of  their 
cloisters.  Let  every  stranger  be  received,  says  the  rule,  as 
if  he  were  Christ  himself;  for  it  is  Christ  himself  who  shall 
one  day  say  to  us,  "  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in.''^^ 

The  community  thus  founded  and  governed  was  supported 
besides  by  two  conditions  indispensable  to  its  security  and 
duration  :  the  reciprocal  tie  of  all  its  members  b}'  the  solemn 
engagement  of  the  vow.  and  the  formation  of  collective  prop- 
Abdication  erty  by  the  sacrifice  of  all  that  was  individual.  The 
uai  plup^  renunciation  of  personal  will  naturally  led  to  that  of 
^'^^y-  individual  property.     Everything  in  the  monastery 

was  to  be  in  common  ;  the  fortune  like  the  labor,  and  interests 
like  duties.  The  rule,  therefore,  denounced  the  idea  of  per- 
sonal property  as  a  vice  which  it  was  most  essential  to  root 
out  of  the  community.  It  was  necessar}'',  then,  in  becoming 
a  monk,  that  a  man  should  solemnly  and  forever  relinquish 

"  Reg.,  c.  G6. 

*^  Ibid.  c.  62.  It  has  been  already  shown  (p.  62)  that,  in  the  first  cen- 
turies of  its  existence,  the  monastic  order  was  not  regarded  as  part  of  the 
clex'gy.  Not  only  were  the  monks  not  all  priests,  but  they  were  reckoned 
among  laymen.  It  is  very  difficult  to  follow  and  recognize  the  different 
phases  of  the  transformation  which  elevated  the  monks  from  the  lay  condi- 
tion to  that  which  procured  them  the  title  and  standing  of  the  Regular  Cler- 
gy, in  opposition  to  the  Secular  Clergy. 

69  Jltid.    c.  .SI. 

'"'  Ibid.lc.  53.  ""  ibid.,  c.  55. 


ST.  BENEDICT.  337 

all  bis  possessions,  either  to  his  own  family,  or  to  the  pooi-, 
or  to  the  monastery  itself";  reserving  nothing  to  himself,  pos- 
sessing nothing  of  his  own,  absolutely  nothing,  not  even 
tablets  or  a  pen  for  writing,  but  receiving  everything  from 
the  abbot,  and  that  only  for  present  use."^ 

An  institution  in  which  celibacy  was  implicitly  the  funda- 
mental basis,  alone  could  bear  a  discipline  so  contrary  to 
human  nature.  But  even  where  a  man,  by  giving  up  mar- 
riage, made  himself  free  of  all  cares  for  his  livelihood,  he 
might  still  remain,  in  his  own  person,  the  object  of  the  en- 
feebling tenderness  of  parents  and  friends.  Benedict  knew 
too  well  the  habits  of  the  nobility,  to  which  he  himself  and 
his  principal  disciples  belonged,  not  to  redouble  his  precau- 
tions against  the  attempts  made  by  parents  to  form  a  certain 
reserve  or  individual  patrimony  for  the  advantage  of  the 
child  whom  they  gave  to  God  by  placing  him  in  a  monaster}'. 
By  a  special  chapter  of  the  rule,  made  out  with  the  legal 
precision  of  a  contemporary  of  Tribonius,  every  nobleman 
who  destined  his  son  for  monastic  life  was  required  to  swear 
that  his  child  should  receive  nothing  whatever  of  the  pater- 
nal fortune,  neither  directly  nor  through  a  third  party.  The 
parents  could  onlj^  bestow  on  the  monastery  itself  a  donation 
which  represented  the  fortune  of  their  child,  reserving  the 
interest  during  their  life  if  it  so  pleased  them.^^ 

Even  in  the  forms  established  by  the   new  code      „    •.■  * 

,  ,      .      .  ,  "^  .  ,        Novitiate. 

to  regulate  the  admission,  try  the  vocation,  and 
bind  the  consciences  of  these  men  who  came  to  sacrifice 
their  will  and  patrimony  to  God,  everything  shows  the  genius 
(>f  organization  possessed  by  Benedict.  There  were  two 
classes  of  candidates  for  monastic  life.  First,  the  children 
confided  in  their  youth  by  their  parents  to  the  monastery,  or 
received  by  the  charity  of  the  monks;  the  rule  prescribes 
their  education  with  minute  solicitude :  then  the  young  men 
and  mature  men  who  came  out  of  the  world  to  knock  at  the 
door  of  the  cloister.  Far  from  encouraging  them,  Benedict 
ordains  that  tliey  should  be  left  there  for  four  or  five  days 
without  opening  to  them,  in  order  to  try  their  perseverance. 

'^  "  Prsecipue  hoc  vitium  amputetur  de  monasierio :  neque  codicem, 
neque  tiibulas,  neque  grapliium,  sed  nihil  oranino."  —  Reg.,  c.  33.  Compare 
c.  53. 

73  "  Promittant  sub  jurejurando  quia  nunquam  per  se,  nunquam  per  suf- 
fectam  personam,  nee  quolibet  modo  ei  aliquando  aliquid  dent  aut  tribuant 
occasionAim  habendi.  .  .  .  Reservato  sibi,  si  voluerint,  usufructuario.  Atque 
j^i  oinnia  obstruantur,  ut  nulla  suspicio  permaneat  puero,  per  quam  deceptu* 
perire  possit  .  .  .  quod  experimento  didicimus."  —  Jbid.,  c.  59. 

VOL.  I.  29 


338  ST.    BENEDICT. 

If  lliey  persevered,  they  were  introduced  into  the  apart 
ments  provided  for  guests,  and  from  thence,  at  the  end  of 
some  days,  into  the  novitiate.  Here  the  novice  was  intrusted 
to  an  old  monk,  skilful  in  the  art  of  gaining  souls,  who  was 
charged  to  study  closely  his  vocation  and  character,  and  to 
tell  him  the  difficulties,  the  humih'ations,  and  discomforts 
which  he  would  meet  in  the  hard  path  of  obedience.  If  after 
two  months  he  promised  to  persevere,  the  entire  rule  was 
read  to  him,  and  the  reading  concluded  in  these  words  :  "  Be- 
hold the  law  under  which  thou  wouldst  fight :  if  thou  canst 
observe  it,  enter;  if  thou  canst  not,  depart  in  freedom!"'* 
Three  times  daring  the  year  of  novitiate  this  trial  was  re- 
newed. When  the  year  had  expired,  if  the  novice  persevered 
he  was  warned  that  shortly  he  should  no  longer  have  the 
power  of  leaving  the  monastery,  and  of  laying  aside  the  rule 
which  he  had  onl}'  accepted  after  such  mature  deliberation. 
It  was  intimated  to  him  that  he  was  about  to  lose  the  power 
of  disposing  of  himself'^  Introduced  into  the  oratory  in 
presence  of  all  the  community,  he  there,  before  God  and  his 
Vow  of  saints,  promised  stability  or  perpetual  residence,  and 
Btabiiity.  ^\^q  reformation  of  his  morals  and  obedience,  under 
pain  of  eternal  damnation.  He  made  a  declaration  of  this, 
written  with  his  own  hand,  and  placed  it  upon  the  altar,  then 
threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  each  of  the  brethren,  begging 
them  to  pray  for  him.  From  that  day  he  was  considered  a 
member  of  the  community. 

Almost  all  the  ancient  monks  had  adopted  a  sort  of  novi- 
tiate, and  various  vows,  more  or  less  formal.  But  no  regular 
foim  had  ever  been  adopted  before  this  wise  and  imposing 
solemnity.  Profession  had  even  been  often  regarded  as  ac- 
knowledged by  the  sole  fact  of  taking  the  monastic  dress, 
and  there  were  instances  of  this  even  after  St.  Benedict.'^ 

'"*  "  Si  perseveraverit  pulsans,  et  illatas  sibi  injurias  .  .  .  patienter  por- 
tare.  .  .  .  Senior  ei  talis  deputatur,  qui  aptus  sit  ad  lucrandas  aninias  .  .  . 
omnino  curiose  intendat.  .  .  .  Praedicentur  ei  omnia  dura  et  aspera.  .  .  . 
Ecce  lex  sub  qua  militare  vis  :  si  potes  observare,  ingredere ;  si  vero  non 
potes,  liber  discede."  —  Reg.,  c.  58.  Chapters  60  and  61  indicate  the  precau- 
tions to  be  tiiken  for  tlie  reception  of  priests  or  monks  who  present  them- 
selves to  be  received,  having  left  their  former  monastery.  The  Rule  forbids 
them  to  be  received  without  the  consent  of  the  abbot  of  the  monastery  which 
they  have  left. 

'^  "Ex  illo  die  nee  proprii  corporis  potestatem  se  habiturum  sciat."  — 
piid 

""^  lliis  was  C2i\\Q(\.  professio  tacita.  We  shall  hereafter  see  it  exemplifiec? 
ui  the  casi;  of  Fridelmrg,  the  betrothed  of  King  Sigebert,  in  the  life  of  St. 
Gall;  of  King  W;;mba  in  Spain,  and  of  the  English  nuns,  quoted  by  St.  Aa- 
»sl'n,  lib   iii.  epist.  157. 


ST.  BENEDICT.  539 

But  tlio  voiv  of  stahility  imposed  by  the  new  legislator,  which 
no  former  rule  had  prescribed,  was  a  happy  and  productive 
innovation,  and  became  one  of  iJie  principal  guarantees  of  the 
duration  and  strength  of  cenobitical  life.'^  Besides,  no  ma- 
terial or  legal  constraint  at  that  time  held  the  monk  to  his 
vow  ;  even  his  secular  dress  was  preserved  with  care,  \  i  btj 
restored  to  him  if  he  unfortunately  desired  to  leave  the  mon- 
astery. 

Now  that  we  perceive  the  general  spirit  and  foun-  Details  of 
dation  of  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict,  we  may  be  per-  **"-'  ^^"''^• 
mitted  to  pass  rapidly  over  the  details.  The  seventy-three 
chapters  of  which  it  is  composed  are  divided  as  follows  :  — 
nine  touch  upon  the  general  duties  of  the  abbot  and  the 
monks;  thirteen  upon  worship  and  the  divine  services; 
twenty-nine  upon  discipline,  faults,  and  penalties  ;  ten  upon 
the  internal  administration  of  the  monastery ;  twelve  upon 
various  subjects,  such  as  the  recepfion  of  guests,  the  conduct 
of  the  brethren  while  travelling,  &c. 

Thirteen  hundred  years  have  passed  since  the  hand  of 
Benedict  traced  all  those  minute  regulations,  and  nothing  has 
been  found  more  fit  to  strengthen  the  religious  spirit  and 
monastic  life.  The  most  admired  and  effectual  reforms  have 
scarcely  had  any  other  aim  than  to  lead  back  the  regular 
clergy  to  a  code  of  which  time  has  only  confirmed  the  wis- 
dom and  increased  the  authority. 

Among  all   these  details  of  the  rule,  the  sci'upu-    ,    ,.^ 

o  ,  .  '  .  ^        The  liturgy. 

lous  care  which  the  legislator  has  taken  to  bind  the  " 

Religious  to  the  careful  celebration  of  divine  worship,  ac- 
cording to  the  liturgical  usage  of  the  Roman  Church,  is 
specially  remarkable.  They  were  to  give  themselves  to 
prayer,  chanted  aloud  by  the  community,  first  in  the  night, 
at  vigils,  which  began  about  two  in  the  morning  and  con- 
tinued until  dawn  ;  then  six  times  during  the  day —  at  prime, 
tierce,  sexte,  nones,  vespers,  and  compline.  The  hundred 
and  fifty  psalms  of  David  were  divided  among  these  seven 
services  in  such  a  manner  that  the  whole  psalter  should  be 

"  Some  will  be  astonished,  perhaps,  not  to  see  in  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict, 
the  three  vows  of  poverty,  chastity,  and  obedience,  wliich  they  consider  as 
the  essence  of  monastic  life;  but  if  the  latter  alone  is  mentioned,  it  is  be- 
cause the  two  others  were  implied  in  tlie  very  condition  of  monk  by  all  the 
previous  canons  of  the  Cimrch  relative  to  the  monastic  institution.  Now, 
St.  Benedict  only  laid  claim  to  regulate  that  institution,  not  to  create  it. 
Tliey  were  bound  to  continence  and  poverty  —  that  is  to  say,  to  possess 
nothing  in  their  own  right,  by  the  mere  fact  of  becoming  monks,  as  thej 
were  restricted  from  marrying — by  the  mere  fact  of  being  ordained  sub 
deacons,  without  taking  on  tliis  sv.bject  any  verbal  engagement. 


340  ST.  BENEDICT. 

chanted  every  week ;  and  this  prayer  in  common  was  not  tc 
interrupt  mental  devotion,  which,  during  the  remaining  time, 
was  to  be  short  and  simple.'^ 

Then  come  these  noble  rules  of  sobriety,  which, 

FooQ  • 

as  Bossuet  says,  take  everything  superfluous  from 
nature,  and  spare  her  all  anxiety  in  respect  to  that  which  is 
necessary,  and  which  are  but  a  reproduction  of  the  customs 
of  the  first  Christians.  To  serve  each  other  by  turns  in 
rooking  and  at  the  table  ;  to  eat,  in  silence,  listening  to  the 
reading  of  some  pious  book,  of  two  cooked  dishes  and  one 
uncooked,  with  a  pound  of  bread  and  a  hemine  of  wine,'^ 
whether  they  made  two  meals  in  the  day  or  only  one  ;  to  ab- 
stain from  all  flesh  of  quadrupeds ;  and  to  increase  the  num- 
ciothino-  ^^^  ^"^  severity  of  the  fasts  appointed  by  the 
Church.^^  To  have  for  clothing  only  a  tunic,  with 
a  cowl  for  the  choir,  and  a  scapulary  for  work :  ^^  this  was 
nothing  else  than  the  hooded  frock  of  the  ploughman  and 
shepherds,  borrowed  from  that  of  the  slaves  of  pagan  times, 
such  as  Columella  has  described.^^  Tq  sleep  in  one  general 
dormitory  ;  to  sleep  but  little,  and  always  in  their  clothes  and 
shoes  ;^3  and  finally,  to  keep  an  almost  continual  silence  dur- 

"  Reg.,  c.  8,  19,  20. 

'*  Ibid.,c.  39.  Tlie  dessert  was  not  included  in  these  two  dishes,  or  put- 
mentaria  coda.  "  Si  fuerint  ponia  aut  nascentia  leguniinum,  addatur  et  ter- 
tium."  It  is  probable  that  the  pound  of  bread  prescribed  by  the  rule  was 
much  more  considerable  than  the  modern  pound,  since  it  was  ordered  that 
they  sliould  reserve  a  third  of  it  for  supper.  It  has  long  been  disputed  what 
was  the  exact  amount  of  the  hemine  of  wine.  The  most  general  opinion  is, 
that  it  was  equivalent  to  a  setier,  or  a  little  more  than  a  pint.  —  D.  Calmet, 
t.  ii.  p.  68-73. 

*"  They  were  to  fast  every  day  from  the  middle  of  September  till  the 
beginning  of  lient,  and  during  Lent  only  to  eat  after  vespers.  —  Reg.,  c.  41. 

®'  Ibid.,  c.  55.  The  tunic  is  a  robe  with  long  sleeves,  without  a  hood, 
which  was  used  as  a  shirt;  it  was  first  white,  and  was  subsequently  changed 
into  black,  when  the  monks  had  shirts  of  wool  or  of  coarse  cloth.  The  cowl, 
cuculta,  became  a  large  mantle  with  a  cowl,  wliich  they  put  on  for  the  office? 
of  the  choir;  large  sleeves  were  subsequently  added  to  it:  this  is  black 
among  all  the  Benedictines.  It  was  also  called  frock,  floccus,  especially  in 
the  order  of  Cluny.  The  scapulary  consists  of  two  pieces  of  cloth  joined 
round  the  neck,  with  a  hood,  .and  which  hangs  one  part  in  front  and  the  other 
behind:  the  length  varies ;  it  extends  even  below  the  tunic  for  the  leaders 
of  the  choir,  and  to  the  knees  only  of  the  converts.  The  rule  allowed  to 
the  monks  for  covering  for  the  feet  caligcB  et  pedules,  by  which  were  general- 
ly meant  hose,  or  stockings  and  shoes.  Femoralia  were  only  allowed  when 
Ihey  travelled  on  horseback.  "  Qui  in  via  diriguntur  de  vestiario  accipiant 
femoralia,  quae  revertentes  lota  ibi  restituant."  Lastly,  a  narrow  girdle  of 
leather  completed  the  costume  of  the  monk. 

"*  De  Re  Rustica,  lib.  i.  c.  8,  p.  445,  ed.  Gesner,  1772. 

*'  Reg.,  c.  22.  The  custom  in  ancient  times,  which  was  continued  even 
in  the  middle  ages,  was,  as  we  know,  to  sleep  without  clothing. 


ST.  BENEDICT.  341 

ing  the  whole  day.^^  Such  were  the  minute  and  salutary 
regulations  which  authorized  Benedict  to  declare  that  the 
life  of  a  monk  ought  to  be  a  perpetual  Lent.^^ 

And  there  were  other  rules  still  better  adapted  to  root  out 
from  the  hearts  of  the  Religious  even  the  last  allurements  of 
pride,  voluptuousness,  and  avarice.  They  could  not  receive 
either  letter  or  present,^^  even  from  their  nearest  relatives, 
without  the  permission  of  the  abbot.  In  accepting  ^^^^,1^;^^ 
the  rule,  they  pledged  themselves  beforehand  to  bear 
patiently  public  and  humiliating  penances  for  the  smallest 
faults,  and  even  corporeal  punishment,^'  in  case  of  murmuring 
or  repetition  of  the  offence,  and  this  while  still  subject  to 
temporary  excommunication  and  final  exclusion.  But  mercy 
appeared  by  the  side  of  severity  :  the  excluded  brother  who 
desired  to  return,  promising  amendment,  was  to  be  received 
anew,  and  three  times  in  succession,  before  he  was  banished 
forever  from  the  community. 

However,  in  going  back  to  the  austerity  of  the  ancient 
Fathers  of  the  desert,  Benedict  does  not  hesitate  to  say,  in 
the  preamble  of  his  rule,  as  has  been  seen,  that  he  believed 
he  had  ordained  nothing  too  hard  or  too  difficult  to  be  fol- 
lowed ;  and  he  ends  by  declaring  that  it  was  only  a  little  be- 
ginning, a  modest  introduction  to  Christian  perfection.^s 

Such  are  the  most  remarkable  features  of  this  famous  code, 
which  has  ruled  so  many  souls  for  so  many  ages,  and  which, 
although  it  has  lost  almost  all  its  subjects,  remains,  notwith- 
standing, one  of  the  most  imposing  monuments  of  Christian 
genius.  Compared  to  the  previous  Oriental  rules,  it  bears 
that  seal  of  Roman  wisdom,  and  that  adaptation  to  Western 
customs,  which  has  made  it,  according  to  the  idea  of  Gregory 
the  Great,  a  masterpiece  of  clearness  and  discretion,*^^  m 
which  judges  who  are  above  all  suspicion  have  not  hesitated 
to  recognize  a  character  of  good  sense  and  gentleness,  hu- 
manity and  moderation,  superior  to  everything  that  could  be 
found  up  to  that  time  in  either  Roman  or  Barbarian  laws,  or 
in  the  habits  of  civil  society .^^^ 

^  Reg.,  c.  42.  *'  Ii>id.,  c.  49. 

**  "  Quaelibet  munuscula."  —  Fjid.,  c.  54. 

"  Ibid.,  c.  23  and  28.  —  "Si  etiam  exconimunicatus  non  emendaverit, 
acrior  ei  accedat  eorrectio,  id  est,  ut  verberum  vindicta  in  eum  procedat." 
See  also  for  other  penances,  c.  43-46. 

^^  "In  qua  institutione  nihil  asperum,  nihilque  grave  nos  constituturos 
speramus."  —  Frologus  RegulcB.  "  Initiuin  conversationis  .  .  .  banc  mini- 
mam  inchoationis  regulam."  —  Reg.,  c.  Ti. 

**  "  Discretione  prfficipuani,  sermoiie  luculentam."  —  Dial.,  ii.  36. 

**  GuizoT,  I.  c.     Compare  Dom  Pxtra,  I.  c. 

29* 


342  ST.  BENEDICT. 

No  kind  of  praise  has  been  wanting  to  this  code  of  monas- 
tic life.  St.  Gregory,  St.  Thomas,  St.  Hildegard,  and  St.  An- 
tonius,  believed  it  to  be  directly  inspired  by  the  Holy  Spirit. 
Popes  and  Christian  princes  have  vied  with  each  other  in 
celebrating  it.  The  prince  of  Catholic  eloquence  has  de- 
Bcribed  it  in  these  incomparable  lines:  — 
Summar  "  l''!*^  ^^^^  '^  ^^^  epitomc  of  Christianity,  a  learned 

ofthoKuk  and  mysterious  abridgment  of  all  the  doctrines  of 
y  ossue .  ^^^^  gospel,  all  the  institutions  of  the  Holy  Fathers, 
and  all  the  counsels  of  perfection.  Here  prudence  and  sim- 
•plicity,  humility  and  courage,  severity  and  gentleness,  free- 
dom and  dependence,  eminently  appear.  Here,  correction 
has  all  its  firmness  ;  condescension  all  its  charm  ;  command 
all  its  vigor,  and  subjection  all  its  repose  ;  silence  its  gravity, 
and  words  their  grace  ;  strength  its  exercise,  and  weakness 
its  support ;  and  yet  always,  my  Fathers,  he  calls  it  a  a 
beginning,  to  keep  you  always  in  holy  fear."  ^^ 

But  there  is  something  which  speaks  with  a  still  greater 
eloquence  than  that  of  Bossuet  in  honor  of  the  Benedictine 
rule  ;  it  is  the  list  of  saints  which  it  has  produced  ;  it  is  the 
tale  of  conquests  which  it  has  won  and  consolidated  through- 
out the  West,  where  for  eight  centuries  it  reigned  alone ;  the 
irresistible  attraction  which  it  had  for  bright  and  generous 
minds,  for  upright a,nd  devoted  hearts,  for  souls  enamoured  of 
solitude  and  sacrifice;  the  benehcent  influence  which  it  exer- 
cised upon  the  life  of  the  secular  clergy,  warming  them,  by 
its  rays,  to  such  a  point  that,  purified  and  strengthened,  they 
seemed  for  a  time  to  identify  themselves  with  the  children 
of  Benedict.  It  is  distinguished  above  all  by  the  contrast 
between  the  exuberant  lile  of  faith  and  spirituality  in  the 
countries  where  it  reigned,  and  the  utter  debasement  into 
which  the  Oriental  Church,  dishonored  by  the  marriage  of  its 
priests  even  before  it  became  a  prey  to  schism  and  Islam- 
isai,  had  fallen. 

Benedict's  S*^'  Grregory  relates  that  the  man  of  God  whose 
vision  of      life  he  writes,  having;  one  night  anticipated  the  hour 

the  future  ■  o  o  i 

fate  of  his  of  matins,  and  gazing  upon  heaven  from  the  window 
work.  ^^  i^j^  ^^ji^  g^^^^  .^^  ,^^  once  the  darkness  dispelled  by 

a  light  more  dazzling  than  that  of  day ;  and,  amid  that  ocean 
of  light,  the  entire  world  appeared  to  him  crowded  into  a  ray 
of  the  sun,  "  so  paltry  docs  the  creature  appear,"  adds  the 
pontiff,  "  to  the   soul  which   contemplates  the    Creator  !  "  '**■'' 

*'  BossuiiT,  Pancgyrique  de  St.  Bennlt. 

**  '•  Oinuis  oliaia  uiuiidus,  vclut  sub  uiio  solis  radio  collectus,  ante  oculoi 


ST.  BENEDICT.  343 

Tradition  has  interpreted  that  sight  as  a  vision  of  the  splen- 
did future  awaiting  the  order  which  Benedict  was  about  to 
form,  and  which  was  to  embrace  the  Christian  universe,  and 
fill  it  with  light.  A  lively  and  faithful  image,  in  fact,  of  the 
destiny  of  an  institution,  the  future  course  of  which,  per- 
haps, its  founder  only  foresaw  under  that  mysterious  form  ! 

The  admiration  of  Catliolic  doctors  has  signalized  in  Bene- 
dict the  Moses  of  a  new  people,  the  Joshua  of  another  prom- 
ised Iand.^3  Nothing  that  he  has  said  or  written  permits 
ns  to  believe  that  he  had  any  such  idea  of  himself  Histo- 
rians have  vied  in  praising  his  genius  and  clear-sightedness  ; 
they  have  supposed  that  he  intended  to  regenerate  Europe, 
to  stop  the  dissolution  of  society,  to  prepare  the  reconstitu- 
tion  of  political  order,  to  re-establish  public  education,  and  to 
preserve  literature  and  the  arts.  1  know  not  whether  he 
entertained  such  grand  plans,  but  I  can  see  no  trace  of  them 
either  in  his  rule  or  his  life.  If  they  ever  penetrated  Hedidnot 
into  his  soul,  it  was  only  to  be  eclipsed  and  replaced   foresee  its 

1  -11     I   •     1  1  •  T  1         ii  1  i        (•    gro.it  social 

by  a  still  higher  and  greater  idea,  by  thought  ot  ann  iiiston- 
salvation.  J  firmly  believe  that  he  never  dreamt  of  ''■''i '■'^*"'*'^' 
regenerating  anything  but  his  own  soul  and  those  of  his 
brethren  the  monks.  All  the  rest  has  been  given  him  over 
and  above  ''  the  one  thing  needful."  What  is  most  to  be  ad- 
mired in  his  social  and  historical  influence  is,  that  he  seema 
never  to  have  dreamt  of  it.  But  is  it  not  a  sign  of  true 
greatness  to  achieve  great  things  without  any  pompous  com- 
motion, without  preconceived  ideas,  without  premeditation, 
under  the  sole  empire  of  a  modest  and  pure  design,  which 
God  exalts  and  multiplies  a  hundred-fold?  Strange  to  say, 
nothing  even  in  his  rule  itself  indicates  that  it  was  written 
with  the  idea  of  governing  other  monasteries  besides  his 
own.  He  might  have  supposed  that  it  would  be  adopted  by 
communities  in  the  neighborhood  of  those  which  he  had  col- 
lected round  him  ;  but  nothing  betrays  any  intention  of  es- 
tablishing a  common  link  of  subordination  between  them,  or 
of  forming  a  bond  between  different  religious  houses,  in  order 
to  originate  an  association  of  different  and  co-ordinate  ele« 

ejus  adductus  est.  .  .  .  Quia  animae  vjdenti  Creatorern  angusta  est  omnis  ere- 
atura."  —  Dial.,  ii.  34.  Tlie  inscription  in  the  tower  of  Monte  Cassino,  inhab- 
ited by  St.  Benedict,  says,  "  Universuin  munduni  divini  solis  radio  detectura 
inspexit  semil  et  despexit."  St.  Bonaventura  explains  tliis  vision  thus : 
"  Mundus  non  fuit  coantjustatus  in  uno  radio  solis,  sed  ejus  animus  dilata- 
tus,  quia  vidit  omnia  in  illo  cujus  n  agnitudine  omnis  creatura  angusta  est.' 
—  De  Luminarihus,  serra.  20. 
*"  S.  Odo;  S.  Thomas,  Serm,  de  S.  Bened. 


344  ST.  BENEDICT. 

ments,  like  the  great  orders  which  have  since  aiisen.^*  Tho 
object  of  his  rule,  on  the  contrary,  seems  to  have  been  the 
concentration  in  a  single  home  of  the  greatness  and  strength 
of  the  monastic  spirit.  Everything  is  adapted  to  that  single 
monastic  family,  which,  by  a  wonderful  arrangement  of  Provi 
dence,  has  been  constituted  the  stem  of  such  productive  and 
innumerable  branches.  Like  Romulus,  who,  tracing  the 
primitive  walls  of  Rome,  never  dreamt  of  that  King-People, 
that  greatest  of  nations,  to  which  he  was  giving  birth,  Bene- 
dict did  not  foresee  the  gigantic  work  which  was  destined  to 
issue  from  the  grotto  of  Subiaco  and  the  hillside  of  Monte 
Cassino.  The  masters  of  spiritual  life  have  always  remarked, 
that  the  man  who  begins  a  work  blessed  of  God  does  it  un- 
awares.    God  loves  to  build  upon  nothing. 

And  what  is  truly  serviceable  to  man  is  to  see  the  great- 
ness of  God  issuing  out  of  his  own  nothingness,  and  to  recog- 
nize in  that  spectacle  the  productive  power  given  to  himself 
when  he  triuniplis  over  fallen  nature,,  so  as  to  become  again 
the  lieutenant  and  instrument  of  God, 

Greatness  However  it  might  be,  the  results  of  Benedict's 
of  its  re-  work  Were  immense.  In  his  lifetime,  as  after  his 
death,  the  sons  of  the  noblest  races  in  Italy,  and 
the  best  of  the  converted  Barbarians,  came  in  multitudes  to 
Monte  Cassino.  Tliey  came  out  again,  and  descended  from 
it  to  spread  themselves  over  all  the  West ;  missionaries  and 
husbandmen,  who  were  soon  to  become  the  doctors  and  pon- 
tifi's,  the  artists  and  legislators,  the  historians  and  poets  of 
the  new  world.  They  went  forth  to  spread  peace  and  faith, 
light  and  life,  freedom  and  charity,  knowledge  and  art,  the 
Word  of  God  and  the  genius  of  man,  the  Holy  Scriptures  and 
the  great  works  of  classical  literature,  amid  the  despairing 
provinces  of  the  destroyed  empire,  and  even  into  the  bar- 
barous regions  from  which  the  destruction  came  forth.  Less 
than  a  century  after  the  death  of  Benedict,  all  that  barba- 
rism had  won  from  civilization  was  reconquered :  and  more 
still,  his  children  took  in  hand  to  carry  the  Gospel  beyond 
•those  limits  which  had  confined  the  first  disciples  of  Christ. 
After  Italy,  Gaul,  and  Spain  had  been  retaken  from  the 
enemy,  Great  Britain,  Germany,  and  Scandinavia  were  in 
turn  invaded,  conquered,  and  incorporated  into  Christen- 
dom.^^ The  West  was  saved.  A  new  empire  was  founded. 
A  new  world  began. 

^*  Yepes,  Coo-on.  Gener.  ;  H^eften,  DisquisH.,  lib.  i.  p.  12. 
®'  "  Et  quidem  Europa  fere  tota,  Benedicti  saBC\ilo,  monachis  adlaboranti- 
bus,  verani  religionem  suscepit."  —  Mabillon,  Praef.  in  1  scecitl.,  c,  2. 


ST.  BENEDICT.  345 

Come  now,  0  Barbarians  !  the  Churcli  no  longer  fears  you. 
Reign  where  you  will ;  civilization  shall  escape  your  hands. 
Or  rather  it  is  you  who  shall  defend  the  Church,  and  confirm 
civilization.  You  have  vanquished  everything,  conquered 
everything,  overthrown  everything ;  you  shall  now  be  in 
your  turn  vanquished,  conquered,  and  transf  jrmed.  Men  are 
born  who  shall  become  your  masters.  They  shall  take  your 
sons,  and  even  tlie  sons  of  your  kings,  to  enroll  them  in  their 
array.  They  shall  take  your  daughters,  your  queens,  your 
princesses,  to  fill  their  monasteries.  They  shall  take  your 
souls  to  inspire  them ;  your  imaginations  to  delight  and 
purify  them;  your  courage  to  temper  it  by  sacrifice  ;  your 
swords  to  consecrate  them  to  the  service  of  faith,  weakness, 
and  justice. 

The  work  will  be  neither  short  nor  easy  ;  but  Jccoi^"'^^'^ 
they  will  accomplish  it.  They  will  govern  the  new  q'lM-ed 
nations  by  showing  them  the  ideal  of  sanctity,  of  Barbarians 
moral  force,  and  greatness.  Tliey  will  make  them  monks. 
the  instruments  of  goodness  and  truth.  Aided  by 
these  victors  of  Rome,  they  will  carry  the  sway  and  laws  of 
a  new  Rome  beyond  the  furthest  limits  ever  fixed  by  the 
Senate,  or  dreamt  of  by  the  Ceesars.  They  will  conquer  and 
bless  lands  which  neither  the  Roman  eagles  nor  even  the 
apostles  have  reached.  They  will  become  the  nursing 
fathers  of  all  modern  nations.  They  will  be  seen  beside  the 
thrones  of  Charlemagne,  of  Alfred,  and  of  Otto  the  Great, 
forming  with  them  Christian  kingdoms  and  a  new  world. 
Finally,  they  will  ascend  the  apostolic  See  with  St.  Gregory 
the  Great  and  St.  Gregory  VII.,  from  which  they  will 
preside,  during  ages  of  conflict  and  virtue,  over  the  destinies 
of  Catholic  Europe  and  of  the  Church,  gloriously  assisted  by 
races  faithful,  manful,  and  free. 


BOOK  V. 

ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 


SUMMARY. 

CA88IODOEUS  :  his  monastic  retreat  and  his  Christian  academy  at  Viviirs  in 
Calabria.  —  The  disciples  of  Benedict  in  Sicily ;  martyrdom  of  St.  Pla- 
cidus.  —  Benedictine  Mission  and  Martyr  Monks  in  Italy.  —  Rava- 
ges of  the  Lombards :  they  overthrow  Farfa  and  Novalese.  —  First 
destruction  of  Monte  Cassino. 

St.  Gregory  the  Great  :  his  birth,  his  conversion ;  he  becomes  a  monk 
at  the  monastery  of  St.  Andrea;  his  alms  and  fasts.  —  He  is  nuncio  at 
ConstantiHople,  afterwards  abbot  of  his  monastery;  his  severity  against 
individual  property.  —  His  desire  to  go  to  convert  the  Angles:  the  Ro- 
mans detain  him.  —  He  is  elected  Pope,  to  his  very  great  grief:  his  plain- 
tive letters  on  leaving  the  cloister.  —  State  of  the  world  and  of  the  Church 
at  his  accession.  —  Italy  at  once  abandoned  and  ground  down  by  the  By- 
zantine emperors.  —  Relations  of  Gregory  with  the  Lombards  :  he 
defends  Rome  against  them.  —  Homilies  on  Ezekiel  interrupted.  —  Media- 
tion between  Byzantium  and  the  Lombards  :  Agilulf  and  Theodeliuda.  — 
Conversion  of  the  Lombards.  — Dialogues  on  the  ancient  monks.  —  Hia 
8TRCGGLES  AGAINST  THE  GREEKS.  —  Conflict  with  Joho  the  Faster,  patri- 
arch of  Constantinople,  with  reference  to  the  title  of  universal  bishop;  he 
desires  for  himself  only  the  title  of  servant  of  the  servants  of  God.  — 
Conflict  with  the  Emperor  Maurice  :  law  against  the  admission  of  soldiers 
to  monasteries;  celebrated  letter  to  Maurice.  —  Maurice  dethroned  and 
slain  by  Phocas  :  congratulations  of  Gregory  to  the  new  Emperor;  contrast 
to  his  courage  and  habitual  rectitude.  —  He  turns  towards  the  new  races,  be- 
comes tlieir  ally  and  instructor,  and  thus  begins  to  emancipate  the  Church 
and  the  West  from  the  Byzantine  yoke.  —  His  relations  with  the  Franks 
AND  THE  BuRGUNDiANS  :  Virgihus  of  Aries  ;  Brunehaut ;  letter  to  the  young 
king  Childebert.  —  Celebrated  charter  of  Autun,  in  which  the  temporal 
supremacy  of  the  Papacy  over  royalty  is  proclaimed.  —Relations  with  the 
bishops  of  Neustria.  —  His  respect  for  the  episcopate  and  for  the  freedom 
of  episcopal  elections.  —  His  vast  correspondence  :  universal  vigilance.  — 
Order  re-estabhshed  in  St.  Peter's  patrimony.  —  He  protects  peasants, 
freemen,  slaves,  Jews.  —  His  conduct  towards  the  pagans  and  the  Dona- 
tists.  —  Services  rendered  to  the  Liturgy  and  religious  art;  Gregorian 
Chants ;  musical  education.  —  Ridiculous  slander  respecting  his  antipathj 

347 


348  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

to  classical  literature.  —  His  writings  :  The  Sacramentary,  The  Pastoral^ 
The  Morals;  letters  and  homilies.  —  He  is  the  fourth  great  doctor  of  the 
Church.  —  His  extreme  humility.  —  He  remains  always  a  Monk,  and 
renders  the  most  signal  services  to  the  monastic  order :  he  confirms  the 
rule  of  St.  Benedict  at  the  Council  of  Rome,  and  shields  the  liberty  and 
property  of  the  monks.  —  Exemptions.  —  Rigorous  distinction  between 
monastic  life  and  the  ecclesiastical  state.  —  Monastic  discipline  is  reformed 
and  enforced.  —  History  of  Venantius,  the  married  monk.  —  Nunneries.  — 
Gregory  watches  over  the  freedom  and  sincerity  of  vocations.  —  Catella, 
the  young  slave.  —  The  Abbey  of  Classe,  at  Ravenna,  protected  against  the 
metropolitan  ;  monastic  foundations  in  Isauria  and  Jerusalem.  —  He  always 
regrets  the  cloistral  life,  and  habitually  surrounds  himself  with  monks ;  he 
makes  them  bishops  and  legates.  —  Charities  and  monastic  hospitality.  — 
His  cruel  sufferings  ;  his  last  letters.  —  He  dies.  —  Ingratitude  of  the  Ro- 
mans.—  He  is  avenged  by  posterity.  — His  true  greatness. 
The  Monks  in  Spain  :  origin  of  the  order  in  Spain  conquered  by  the  Arian 
Visigoths.  —  St.  Donatus,  St.  Emillan,  St.  Martin  of  Dumes.  —  St.  Lean- 
der,  monk  and  bishop  of  Seville.  —  School  of  Seville.  —  Martyrdom  of 
Hermenegild;  exile  of  Leander :  he  meets  St.  Gregory  at  Constantinople; 
their  mutual  tenderness.  —  Conversion  of  King  Recarede  and  of  the  Visi- 
goth nation  under  the  auspices  of  Leander :  their  relations  with  Gregory. 
—  The  family  of  Leander  :  his  sister  Florentine.  —  His  brother  Isidore. — 
Action  of  the  latter  on  the  monastic  order  and  Spain;  his  writings. —  St. 
Braulius. — Visigothic  formula  of  monastic  foundations  — School  of  To- 
ledo :  Abbey  of  Agali.  —  Ildefonso  of  Toledo,  monk  and  bishop,  the  most 
popular  saint  of  that  period.  —  Councils  of  Toledo :  part  played  by  the 
bishops;  intervention  of  the  laity;  decrees  and  doctrines  upon  royalty. — 
Harshness  against  the  Jews.  —  The  Fuero  Juezgo,  issued  by  the  Councils 
of  Toledo.  —  King  Wamba  made  monk  in  spite  of  himself.  —  Monastic 
extension  in  Lusitania.  —  St.  Fructuosus  and  his  hind.  — The  monks  dwell 
on  the  shores  of  the  ocean  waiting  for  the  conquest  and  invasion  of  the 
New  "World. 


Quemadmodum  radii  solis  contingunt  quidem  terram,  sed  ibi  sunt  uude  mittuntur,  sic 
auimus  mag-nus  et  sacer,  et  in  hoc  demissus  ut  propius  divina  nossemus,  conversatur 
quidem  nobiscum,  sed  baeret  origini  suae  ;  illinc  pendet,  illiac  spectat  ac  nititur. — 
Seneca,  Epist.  41. 

I.  —  MONASTIC  ITALY  IN  THE  SIXTH  CENTURY. 

Even  before  the  death  of  Benedict,  the  most  illustrious  of 
Lis  conteiuporaries  had  sought  in  monastic  life  an  interval  of 
repose  and  freedom  between  his  public  career  and  his  grave. 
Cassiodorus,  who  had  been  for  thirty  years  the  honor  and 
light  of  the  Gothic  monarchy,  the  minister  and  the  friend  of 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  3  t9 

five  kings,  abandoned  the  court  of  Ravenna  and  all      cassiodc. 
his  offices  and  dignities/  towaids  the  year  538,  to     IZ.^/-^ 
found,  at  tlie  extremity  of  Italy,  a  monastery  called     monk  at 
Viviers  (  Vivaria),  which  at  one  time  seemed  des- 
tined to  rival  Monte  Cassino  itself  in  importance. 

Cassiodorus  belon2:ed  to  the  high  Roman  nobility  : 
his  ancestors  had  seats  at  once  in  the  senates  or 
Rome  and  Constantinople.  His  fortune  was  immense.  Sue- 
cessively  a  senator,  a  quaestor,  and  prefect  of  the  His  poim- 
pretcrinm,  he  was  the  hist  of  the  great  men  who  cai career, 
hold  the  office  of  consul,  which  Justinian  abolished.  He  ob- 
tained, finally,  that  title  of  patrician,  which  Clovis  and  Char- 
lemagne considered  themselves  honored  in  receiving.  His 
credit  survived  all  the  revolutions  of  that  terrible  age.  He 
was  successively  the  minister  of  Odoacer,  of  Theodoric,  of 
his  daughter  Amalasontha,  and  of  his  grandson  Athalaric, 
who  made  him  prefect  of  the  pretorium.  He  retained  that 
office  under  the  kings  Theodatus  and  Vitiges.  He  allied  in 
his  own  person  the  virtues  of  the  old  Romans  to  those  of  the 
new  Christians,  a^^  in  his  titles  the  dignities  of  the  republic 
were  conjoined  to  those  of  the  empire.  Full  of  respect  for 
the  popes  and  bishops,  he  was  also  full  of  solicitude  for  the  peo- 
ple. An  intelligent  and  courageous  mediator  between  the 
Barbarian  conquerors  and  the  conquered  population,  he  was 
able  to  give  to  the  Ostrogoth  royalty  that  protecting  and 
civilizing  character  which  it  retained  for  some  time. 

To  him  must  be  attributed  the  finest  portion  of  Rej^of 
the  great  reign  of  Theodoric,  Avho  would  have  '^'heodoric. 
deserved  to  be  the  forerunner  of  Charlemagne,  if  493-526. 
he  had  contracted  with  the  Church  that  alliance  which  alone 
could  guarantee  and  fertilize  the  future.  But,  although  an 
Arian,  this  great  prince  long  protected  the  religious  liberty 
of  the  Catholics;  and  during  the  greater  part  of  his  reign, 
the  Church  gained  more  by  his  benevolent  indifference  than 
by  the  oppressive  and  trifling  intervention  of  the  crowned 
theologians  who  reigned  in  Byzantium.  Influenced  by  his 
pious  and  orthodox  minister,  he  said  nobly  and  wisely,  that 
to  him,  as  king,  nothing  beyond  reverence  with  regard  to 
ecclesiastical  affairs  pertained.^  Cassiodorus,  who  filled  the 
office  of  chancellor  under  him,  showed  in  his  official  acta 

•  "  Repulsis  in  Ravennati  urbe  sollicitudinibus  dignitatum  et  curis  saecu* 
laribus."  —  Cassjoh.,  Ftccf.  in  Psalm. 

*  "  Ncc  aliquid  ad  se  praeter  reverentiam  de  ecclesiasticis  negotiis  perti- 
nere." 

VOL.  I.  30 


350  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

the  great  principles  be  held,  and  which  most  Christian  doc- 
tors up  to  that  time  had  appealed  to.  "  We  cannot,"  said  he, 
in  the  name  of  Theodoric,  "  command  religion,  for  no  man 
can  be  forced  to  believe  against  his  will ;  "3  and  to  one  of  his 
successors,  "  Since  God  suffers  several  religions,  we  dare  not 
impose  one  alone.  We  remember  to  have  read,  that  a  sacri- 
fice to  God  must  be  made  voluntarily,  and  not  in  obedience 
to  a  master.  A  man  who  attempts  to  act  otherwise  evident- 
ly op|)oses  himself  to  the  Divine  commands."*  Two  cen- 
turies after  the  peace  of  the  Church,  he  continued  thus 
faithful  to  the  great  apologists  of  the  time  of  the  imperial 
persecutions  :  to  Tertullian,  who  said,  "  Religion  forbids  us 
to  constrain  an}' one  to  be  religious  ;  she  would  have  consent, 
and  not  constraint;  "  ^  and  to  Lactantius,  according  to  whom, 
"  To  defend  religion,  one  must  know  how  to  die,  and  not  how 
to  kill."  6 

Afterwards,  when,  unfaithful  to  his  earliest  policy,  The- 
odoric arrogated  to  himself  the  right  of  interfering  in  the 
election  of  the  Roman  pontiffs  —  when  he  had  dishonored  the 
end  of  his  career  by  cruelties  of  which  Boethius,  Symmachus, 
and  the  holy  pope,  John  I.,  were  victims  —  when  his  daugh- 
ter Amalasontha,  whose  reign  was  so  happy  for  Italy,  had  per- 
ished by  assassination  —  Cassiodorus,  who,  amongst  all  those 
crimes,  had  devoted  all  his  energies  and  perseverance  to  pre- 
serve authority  from  its  own  excesses,  to  soften  the  manners 
of  the  Goths,  and  guarantee  the  rights  of  the  Romans,  grew 
weary  of  that  superhuman  task.  No  danger  nor  disgrace 
threatened  him,  for  all  the  sovereigns  who,  after  Theodoric, 
succeeded  each  other  on  the  bloody  throne  of  Ravenna,  seem 
to  have  vied  in  seeking  or  conciliating  him  ;  but  he  had  ex 
perienced  enough  of  it.  He  was  nearly  seventy  years  old ; 
fifty  years  had  been  passed  in  the  most  elevated  employ- 
ments ;  he  had  wielded  a  power  almost  sovereign,  but  always 
tempered  by  reason  and  faith.  He  resolved  to  end  his  life 
in  monastic  solitude.  With  him  disappeared  the  glorj  and 
prosperity  of  the  kingdom  of  the  Goths  in  Italy. 

'  ''  Religionem  imperare  non  possumus,  quia  nemo  cogitur  ut  credat  invi- 
tus." —  Letter  of  Theodoric  to  the  Jews,  ap.  Cassiod.,  lib.  ii.  cp   27. 

*  "  Cuni  Uivinitas  patiatur  diversas  religiones  esse,  nos  unam  non  aude- 
mus  imponere.  Retcnimus  enim  legisse  nos  voluntarie  sacrificandura  esse 
Domino,  non  cujusquam  cogentis  imperio.  Quod  qui  aliter  facere  tentaverit, 
evidenter  coelestibus  jussionibus  obviavit."  —  Letter  of  Theodatus  to  Jus- 
tinian, ap.  Cassiod.,  lib.  x.  ep.  26. 

*  "  Non  est  religionis  cogere  religionem,  quae  sponte  suscipi  debet,  non  vi." 
—  Ad  Scapulam,  in  fin. 

*  "Dt'fendenda  religio  est  non  occidendo,  sed  moriendo;  non  ssevitia,  seJ 
patientia;  non  scelere,  sed  fide." 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  351 

This  was  the  first,  after  the  downfall  of  the  Roman  empire, 
of  these  striking  conversions,  an  innumerable  series  of  which 
will  pass  before  our  eyes,  which,  even  in  the  highest  ranks 
cf  the  new  society,  sought  out  the  great  ones  of  the  world,  to 
teach  them  how  to  expiate  their  grandeur,  to  rest  from  their 
power,  and  to  put  an  interval  between  the  agitations  of  the 
world  and  the  judgment  of  God. 

But  in  assuming  the  monastic  frock,  Cassiodorus  seems  to 
have  recommenced  to  live.     This  religious  profession  offered 
as  many  attractions  to  his  soul  as  employments  to  his  activity. 
The  monastery  of  Viviers,  which  he  had  built  on  the   Monastery 
patrimonial  estate  where  he  was  born,  at  the  extrem-  and  cims- 
ity  of  Calabria,  on  the  shores  of  the  Gulf  of  Squillace,  emyW 
took  its  name  from  numerous  vivaria,  or  fish-ponds,   ^'^'^•■^■ 
which  had  been  hollowed  in  the  rock.     It  was  a  delightful 
dwelling,  which   he   has    described    affectionately  in   terms 
worthy  of  that  delicious  region,  where  the  azure  sea  bathes  a 
shore  clad  with  incomparable  and  perpetual  verdure.     The 
building  was  vast  and  magnificent ;  at  a  distance  it  appeared 
like  an  entire  town.     There  were  two  monasteries  for  the 
numerous  disciples  who   collected  round   the  illustrious  old 
man.     Besides  these,  some  who  believed  themselves  called 
to  a  life  more  austere  than  that  of  the  cenobites  whose  dwell- 
ing extended  along  the  smiling  shores  of  the  sea,  found,  by 
ascending  the  mountain  which  overlooked  them,  isolated  ceils 
where  they  could  taste  iu  all  its  purity  the  delight  of  abso- 
lute solitude.''' 

Cassiodorus  himself,  successively  a  monk  and  ab- 
bot, passed  nearly  thirty  years  in  that  retreat,  occu-   iife°ami''' 
pied  in  governing  his  community,  and  uniting  the   }abo?s^ot 
study  of  literature  and  science  with  the  pursuit  of  cuseicdo- 
spiritual  life.     During  his  political  career,  he  had 
made  use  of  his  power,  with  energy  and  solicitude,  to  main- 
tain  public  education  and  intellectual  life  in  that  poor  Italy, 
which  was   periodically  overran  by  floods  of  ignorant  and 
rude  conquerors.    Jle  has  been  declared,  not  without  reason, 
the  hero  and  re§ti^rer  of  knowledge  in  the  sixth  century.^ 
As  soon  as  he  beoame  a  monk,  he  made  his  monastery  a  kind 
of  Christian  academy,  and  the  principal  centre  of  the  literary 

^  "  Habetis  Montis  Castelli  secreta  suavia,  ubi,  velut  anachor^tae,  prae- 
stante  Domino,  feliciter  esse  possitis,  ...  si  prius  in  corde  vestro  praepara- 
tus  sit  adscensus." —  Cassiod.,  Be  Instit.  Divin.  Litter. ,  c.  19. 

*  F.  DE  Sainte-Marthe,  Vie  de  Cassiodore,  1684.  Compare  MABfLLON 
Annul.  Bened.,  lib.  v.  c.  24,  27. 


352  ST.  GKEGORY  THE  GREAT. 

activity  of  his  time.  He  had  there  collected  an  immense 
library  ;  he  imposed  upon  his  monks  a  complete  and  severe 
plan  of  study.  His  own  example  enforced  his  precepts  ;  he 
instructed  them  with  unwearied  zeal  in  the  Holy  Scriptures, 
for  the  study  of  which  he,  in  concert  with  Pope  Agapetus, 
had  attempted  in  vain  to  establish  public  professors  in  Rome. 
He  added  to  this  the  study  of  the  seven  liberal  arts,  and  pro- 
fane literature  in  general.  It  was  at  Viviers  that  he  com- 
posed most  of  his  works,  and  especially  his  famous  Treatise 
upon  the  Teaching  of  Sacred  Literature,^  a  kind  of  elementary 
encyclopedia,  which  was  the  code  of  monastic  education,  and 
served  long  as  a  programme  to  the  intellectual  education  of 
the  new  nations.  At  eighty-three  he  had  the  courage  to 
commence  a  treatise  upon  orthography,  in  order  to  assist  in 
the  correction  of  ancient  copies  of  the  holy  books. 

Cassiodorus  thus  gave,  amid  his  numerous  community,  one 
of  the  first  and  most  illustrious  models  of  that  alliance  of 
monastic  and  intellectual  life  which  has  distinguished  the 
monastic  order.  The  literary  enthusiasm  which  inspired  the 
noble  old  man  served  only  to  redouble  his  zeal  for  the  strict 
observance  of  monastic  regularity.  "  God  grant  to  us  grace," 
he  wrote,  "  to  be  like  the  untiring  oxen  to  cultivate  the  field 
of  our  Lord  with  the  plough  of  observance  and  regular  exer- 
cises." ^*^  It  is  scarcely  known  what  rule  he  adopted.  Some 
have  believed  that  it  was  that  of  St.  Benedict;  but  he  has 
made  no  special  mention  of  it  in  recommending  his  monks  to 
follow  the  rules  of  the  Fathers  generall}^,  along  with  the 
orders  of  their  own  superior,  and  to  consult  the  institutes  of 
Cassianus.il  However,  a  stronganalogy  may  at  least  be  rec- 
ognized between  the  usages  practised  at  Viviers  and  the 
great  example  of  St.  Benedict,  in  the  directions  given  by 
Cassiodorus  on  the  subject  of  manual  labor.  He  desires 
that  those  who  are  not  capable  of  study,  or  of  transcribing 
manuscript,  should  apply  themselves  to  agriculture  and  gar- 
dening, especially  for  the  relief  of  guests  and  of  the  infirm.i^ 
Like  Benedict,  he  recommended  them  to  bestow  an  affection- 
ate solicitude  upon  travellers,  and  upon  the  poor  and  sick  in 
the  neighborhood.  Like  Benedict,  he  desired  that  the  culti- 
vators of  monastic  lands  should  share  in  the  temporal  and 
spiritual  well  being  of  monastic  life.    "  Instruct  your  peasants 

®  De  Institutione  Divinarum  Litterariim.     "Quein  monachi  omnes  accu- 
•ate  legere  deberent." —  Mabillon,  1.  c. 
"*  In  Prcsf.  Explic.   Psalm. 
"  De  Div.  Liu.,  c.  32  and  29.  >«  Ibid.,  c.  28. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  353 

in  good  morals  ;  oppress  them  not  with  heavy  or  new  bur- 
dens ;  call  them  often  to  your  festivals,  that  they  may  not 
blush,  if  there  is  occasion  for  it,  for  belono-jng  to  you,  and 
yet  resembling  you  so  little."  ^^  In  short,  he  seems  to  follow 
the  rule  of  Benedict  even  in  its  least  details  in  that  which 
concerns  the  nocturnal  and  almost  perpetual  psalms  which 
characterized  monastic  worship,  and  which  he  explains  as 
follows  to  his  numerous  disciples:  "During  the  silence  of 
night,  the  voices  of  men  bursting  forth  in  chants  and  in  words 
sung  by  art  and  measure  brings  us  back  to  him  from  whom 
the  divine  word  came  to  us,  for  the  salvation  of  the  human 
race.  .  .  .  All  who  sing  form  but  a  single  voice,  and  we 
mingle  our  music  with  the  praises  of  God,  chanted  by  an- 
gels, although  we  cannot  hear  them."  ^^ 

Into  the  same  region  where  the  Roman  minister  of  the 
Gothic  kingdom  completed  his  glorious  career,  but  beyond 
these  Straits  of  Faro,  which  doubtless  exhibited  Martyrdom 
then,  as  now,  an  enchanting  scene  of  nature,  other  cidus'ia 
monks  had  likewise  penetrated.  The  cherished  dis-  SicUy. 
ciple  of  St.  Benedict,  the  son  of  the  rich  senator  who  had  so 
generously  endowed  the  new-born  communit}'  of  Subiaco, 
the  young  Placidus,  had  brought  to  Sicily  the  name  and  rule 
of  his  master.  He  had  been  sent  there  to  recover  the  eigh- 
teen estates  situated  in  that  island,  which  his  father  had 
given  to  the  Abbot  of  Monte  Cassino,  and  the  profits  of  which 
had  been  lost  by  unfaithful  stewardship.  He  remained  there, 
and  established,  towards  the  year  534,  at  Messina,  the  first 
Benedictine  monastery  which  was  formed  out  of  Italy.  Placi- 
dus collected  there  thirty  monks,  but  was  too  soon  interrupted 
in  his  work  of  religious  colonization.^^  He  perished  with  two 
of  his  brethren  and  his  young  sister  Flavia,  tortured  and 
slain  by  a  band  of  Moorish  pirates,  still  pagans,  and  who,  like 
so  many  other  ruffians,  made  the  monks  the  principal  victims 
of  their  fury.  The  children  of  St.  Benedict  inaugurated  thus 
the  long  series  of  their  struggles  and  victories.  The  blooil 
of  Placidus  watered  the  seeds  of  the  order  in  Sicily,  where 
its  harvest,  even  up  to  our  own  days,  has  been  so  abundant.^^ 

'»   De  Div.  Liu.,  c.  32.  '•»  Frafat.  in  Psalter. 

'*  We  do  not  venture  to  relate  here  many  very  interesting  features  in  the 
life  of  the  first  disciple  of  St.  Benedict,  because  his  Acts,  attributed  to  one 
of  his  companions,  the  monk  Gordian,  have  undergone  very  numerous  inter- 
polations, according  to  the  unanimous  opinion  of  Baronius,  Mabillon,  and  the 
Bollandists. 

"  Thf  re  were  at  that  timOj  and  subsequently,  many  monasteries  in  Sicily 

30* 


354  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

We  have  said  that  the  monks  came  to  replace  the  martyrs, 
but  that  often  also  they  imitated  and  joined  their  band.  It 
_  ^     .        was  thus  durino-  the  rise  of  the  Benedictine  order  in 

Extension      _      ,  ,  '^      .  •  i     i       •  i       ^ 

of  the  order  Italy.  ITS  cxteusion  was  rapid  during  the  last  years 
in  Italy.  ^^  Benedict's  life,  and  especially  after  his  death. 
The  tomb  where  the  holy  remains  of  the  great  legislator 
rested,  under  the  guardianship  of  a  line  of  fervent  disciples 
constantly  renewed,  became  the  spring  from  which  a  new 
life  flowed  forth  upon  the  peninsula.i^  Most  of  the  ancient 
monasteries  adopted  the  rule  which  flourished  at  Monte  Cas- 
sino.  It  spread  through  Latiura  in  the  environs  of  Lake 
Fucino,  where  the  hoh'  abbot  Equitius,  shod  with  nailed 
shoes,  made  hay  with  his  monks,  and  returned,  after  the  hot 
and  laborious  day,  with  his  scythe  on  his  shoulder  like  any 
other  laborer.i^  It  was  carried  to  the  summit  of  Mount 
Soracte,  where  more  than  one  brave  solitary,  well  worthy  of 
practising  it,  waited  its  coming,  and  where  the  gentle  prior 
Nonnosus  labored  the  rocky  sides  of  the  mountain  celebrated 
by  Virgil  and  Horace,  to  make  gardens  and  olive-orchards 
for  the  use  of  his  brethren. ^^  It  prevailed  in  several  of  the 
twenty  two  religious  houses  which  already  existed  at  Rome.^o 
It  soon  extended  into  the  isles  of  the  Mediterranean  and 
Adriatic,  which  we  have  seen  to  be  already  occupied  by 
monks,  and  especially  into  those  which  lay  near  the  coast  of 
Naples,  whither,  under  the  hideous  tyranny  of  the  first 
Ca3sars,  men  accused  of  high  treason  had  been  banished,  and 
where  the  love  of  heavenly  things  and  spiritual  freedom  re- 
tained many  voluntary  exiles.  Thus,  throughout  the  whole 
peninsula,numerouscorapaniesof  monks  laboriously  struggled, 
amidst  the  general  confusion,  against  the  depravity  of  Roman 
manners,  against  the  violence  of  the  Barbarians.  Their  lives 
afforded  these  lessons  of  austere  virtue  and  miraculous  power, 
the  memory  of  which  St.  Gi'egory  the  Great  has  associated 
Monks  in  his  Dialogues  with  that  of  their  holy  patriarch. 
™/tiK»'^'''^  They  died  as  they  had  lived,  and  braved  martyrdom 
Lombards,    in  public  places  as  well  as  in  the  depth  of  woods. 

inhabited  by  Greek  monks,  who  followed  the  rule  of  St.  Basil.  —  Yepes, 
Chi-onica  General.,  ii.  2. 

"  "Te  monnchorura  turbae  diu  noctuque  concelebrant,  corpus  tuum  in 
medio  posituni  servaiites,  quod  largos  miraculoruiu  fluvios  effudit."  —  Menees 
dt  V Eglise  Grecque.,  ap.  Dom  Gueranger,  Careme,  p.  581. 

'^  "  Clavatis  calceatus  caligis,  falcem  ferrariam  in  colic  deferens  veniebat." 
~  S    Gkeg.,  Dial.,  lib   4. 

^^  V.  S.  Gregor.,  Dial.,  lib.  i.  c.  7,  on  Nonnosus  and  Anastasius. 

*^  Baronius,  Mariyrol.,  5  Dec.  Amongst  these  the  monasteries  of  St 
Sabas  and  St.  Erasmus  held  the  first  rank. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  355 

Upon  the  faith  of  that  great  doctor,  the  faithful  have  related 
from  generation  to  generation,  how  the  monk  Herculanus, 
bishop  of  Perngia,  wlien  that  city  was  besieged  and  destroyed 
by  the  Goths  under  Totila,  was  sacrified  amid  tortures,  as  the 
principal  author  of  the  resistance  ;  how,  in  the  Roman  Cam- 
pagna,  the  abbot  Suranus  was  slain  by  the  Lombards,  v>\\o 
found  him  hidden  in  the  hollow  of  an  oak;  and  how,  else- 
^\dlere,  the  same  Lombards  hung  the  monks,  two  by  two,  to 
Ibe  same  tree.^^ 

For  the  Loml)ards  were  already  there.  Scarcely  had  the 
Goths,  who  fell  into  their  premature  decay  after  Theodoric 
and  Cassiodorus,  disappeared,  when  a  new  race  of  Barbarians 
crossed  the  Alps  and  descended  upon  Italy.  They  were 
proud,  intelligent,  and  warlike,  Arian  by  name,  but  still,  in 
fact,  half-pagan,  and  a  thousand  times  more  cruel  and  dreaded 
than  the  Goths.^^  Under  Alboin  and  his  successors  they 
ravaged  the  peninsula  without  pity,  trampling  under  foot 
Greeks  and  Romans,  Catholics  and  Arians,  priests  and  la}'- 
men.  Ruined  cities,  desecrated  churches,  murdered  bishops 
and  clergy,  and  exterminated  nations,  were  everywhere  seen 
in  their  track.^^  These  ferocious  conquerors  reaped  every- 
thing, and  left  only  a  desert  behind  them.  The  end  of  the 
world  was  supposed  to  have  come.-*  They  were  especially 
furious  against  monks  and  monasteries.  They  burned  and 
destroyed,  among  others,  two  considerable  abbeys,  the  origin 
of  which  is  unknown:  Novalese,  situated  upon  a  plateau  on 
the  south  side  of  the  Piedmontese  Alps  ;  and  Farfa,  which 
imagined  itself  secure,  hid  among  the  fresh  foilage  of  the 
Sabine  woods,  sung  by  Ovid  — 

"  Et  aincenae  Farfaris  umbrae." 

These  names,  destined  to  be  so  celebrated  in  religious 
history,  yet  the  first  appearance  of  which  is  marked  by  dis- 
aster, must  be  noted. 

A  great  number  of  monks  received  martyrdom  from  the 
hands  of  these  new  persecutors  ;  others,  hunted  from  their 
first  asylum,  and  wandering  through  the  different  parts  of 

"  S.  Greg.,  Dial,  iv.  21. 

**  Their  fir^t  invasion  took  place  in  568,  at  the  solicitation  of  Narses. 

^  AN.vsTASins,  Liber  Pontif.,  c.  32. 

**  "  Mox  eff'era  gens  Longobardorum  de  vagina  suae  habitationis  educta  in 
nostram  cervicem  grassata  est,  atque  humanum  genus  .  .  •  succisum  aruit. 
.  .  .  Depopulatae  urbes,  .  .  .  destructa  monasteria  virorum  ac  femina- 
rum,  .  .  .  occupaverunt  bestiae  loca  quae  prius  nmltitudo  hominum  tenebat." 
—  S.  Gkegok.  Magn.,   Dial.,  iii.  38,  Epist.,  iii.  29. 


356  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

Italy,  carried  with  them  the  seeds  of  monastic  life  into  coun- 
tries which,  without  that  storm,  they  might  never  have 
reached. 

Finally,  the  Lombards  ascended  Monte  Cassino,  and  pil- 
laged and  burned  that  already  famous  sanctuary,  according 
to  the  prediction  of  Benedict,  forty  years  before  ;  but,  as  he 
had  also  predicted,-'^  they  could  destroy  nothing  which  had 
life  and  did  not  take  a  single  monk.  Although  the  attack  of 
the  Lombards  took  place  by  night,  and  while  the  monks  were 
ssleep,  they  were  all  able  to  flee,  bearing  with  them,  as  their 
entire  fortune,  the  rule  written  by  their  founder,  with  the 
measure  of  wine  and  the  pound  of  bread  which  he  had  pre- 
scribed.-^ They  took  refuge  at  Rome  ;  Pope  Pelagius  IL^" 
gave  them  a  paternal  reception,  and  permitted  them  to  build, 
near  the  Lateran  palace,  a  monastery  in  which  the  children 
of  Benedict  were  to  await  for  a  century  and  a  half  the  happy 
day  which  was  to  witness  their  return  to  their  holy  mountain.^^ 


II.  —  GREGORY  THE  GREAT,  MONK  AND  POPE. 

But  ere  long  a  monk  ascended  for  the  first  time  the  apos- 
tolical See.  This  monk,  the  most  illustrious  of  all  those  who 
have  been  reckoned  among  the  sovereign  pontiffs,  was  to 
shine  there  with  a  splendor  which  none  of  his  predecessors 
had  equalled,  and  which  flowed  back,  like  a  supreme  sanction, 
upon  the  institute  from  which  he  came.  Gregory,  who  alone 
among  men  has  received,  by  universal  consent,  the  douVtle 
surname  of  Saint  and  Great,  will  be  an  everlasting  honor  to 
the  Benedictine  order  as  to  the  papacy.  By  his  genius, 
but  especially  by  the  charm  and  ascendency  of  his  virtue,  he 
was  destined  to  organize  the  temporal  power  of  the  popes,  to 
develop  and  regulate  their  spiritual  sovereignty,  to  found 
their  paternal  supremacy  over  the  new-born  crowns  and  races 
which  were  to  become  the  great  nations  of  the  future,  and  to 
be  called  France,  Spain,  and  England.  It  was  he,  indeed, 
who  inaugurated  the  middle  ages,  modern  society,  and  Chris- 
tian civilization.-^ 

^"  "  Res.  non  aniinas."  —  Episi.,  iv.  17. 

^®  In  580,  under  Bonitus,  fourth  abbot  after  St.  Benedict. 

'"  According  to  Yepes  and  some  other  authors,  this  pope,  like  his  prede- 
cessor, Benedict  I.,  was  a  monk;  but  we  find  no  proof  of  this  assertion. 

*•*  They  only  returned  to  Monte  Cassino  about  7S0,  under  the  abbot  Petro- 
uatius. 

**  Compare  Don  Pitka,  tlistoire  de  St.  Leger,  Introduction. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  357 

Issued,  like  St.  Benedict,  from  one  of  the  most  illustrious 
races  of  ancient  Rome,  the  son  of  a  rich  senator,  and  de- 
scendant of  Pope  Felix  III.,  of  the  Anicia  family,^*^  Gregory 
was  early  called  to  fill  a  dignified  place,  which,  in  the  midst 
of  modern  Rome,  the  vassal  of  Byzantium,  and  subject  to  the 
ceaseless  insults  of  the  Barbarians,  retained  some  shadow  of 
ancient  Roman  grandeur.  He  was  prastor  of  Rome  during 
the  first  invasions  of  the  Lombards  and  the  religious  troubles 
stirred  up  by  the  fifth  general  council.  In  the  exercise  of 
this  office  he  gained  the  hearts  of  the  Romans,  while  habit- 
uating himself  to  the  management  of  public  business,  and 
while  acquiring  a  taste  for  luxury  and  display  of  earthly 
grandeur,  in  which  he  still  believed  he  might  serve  God 
without  reproach.  But  God  required  him  elsewhere.  Greg- 
ory hesitated  long,  inspired  by  the  divine  breath,  but  re- 
tained, led  back  and  fascinated  to  the  world,  by  the  attractions 
and  habits  of  secular  life.  At  last  he  yielded  to  the  influence 
of  his  intimate  and  close  relations  with  the  refugees  of  Monte 
Cassino,  the  successors  and  disciples  of  Benedict ;  ^^  and  then, 
obeying  the  grace  which  enlightened  him,  he  abruptly  broke 
every  tie,  devoted  his  wealth  to  the  endowment  of  six  new 
monasteries  in  Sicily,  and  established  in  his  own  palace  in 
Rome,  upon  the  Coelian  hill,  a  seventh,  dedicated  to  St.  An- 
drew, into  which  he  introduced  the  Benedictine  rule,  and 
where  he  himself  became  a  monk.^^  He  sold  all  that 
remained  of  his  patrimony  to  distribute  it  to  the  comesa 
poor ;  and  Rome,  which  had  seen  the  young  and  ^^^ 
wealthy  patrician  traverse  its  streets  in  robes  of  silk  ^''^• 
covered  with  jewels,  now  saw  him,  with  admiration,  clothed 

'"  "  Ex  noblissima  et  antiquissima  Aniciorum  familia."  —  Joan.  Diac.  t'/i 
Vit.  S.  Greg.  Magn.     He  was  born  probably  in  540,  and  died  in  G04. 

^'  "  Diu  longeque  conversionis  gratiam  distuli,  et  postquam  coelesti  sum 
desiderio  afflatus,  saseulari  habitu  contegi  melius  putavi.  Apparebatur  enim 
mibi  jam  de  aeternitatis  amore  quid  quaererem  :  sed  inolita  me  consuetudo 
devinxerat,  ne  exteriorem  oultum  mutarem.  Cumque  adhuc  me  cogeret  ani- 
mus .  .  .  coeperunt  nmlta  me  ex  ejusdem  mundi  cura  succrescere,  ut  in  eo 
jam  non  specie,  sed,  quod  e.st  gravius,  mente  retinerer." — Prcefat.  ad  Job. 
The  Benedictines  who  brought  about  his  conversion  were  Constantine,  dis- 
ciple and  successor  of  St.  Benedict  at  Monte  Cassino;  Simplicius,  third  ab- 
bot of  Monte  Cassino;  and  Valentinian,  abbot  of  Latran. 

^^  "Mutato  repente  saeculi  habitu."  —  Paul.  Uiac,  Vit.  S.  Greg.,  c.  3. 
Yepes  and  Mahillon  have  proved  beyond  question,  against  B;ironius,  that  St. 
Gregory  professed  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict.  —  Act.  SS.  0.  S.  B.  Prcef.  in  i. 
sac.  §  vii.  See  also  his  life  by  his  Benedictine  editors,  lib.  i.  c.  3.  This  mon- 
astery of  St.  Andrew,  which  now  bears  the  name  of  St.  Gregory,  has  been 
since  given  to  the  Camaldules,  and  from  it,  thirteen  centuries  after,  issued 
another  Gregory,  pope  and  monk,  Gregory  XVI. 


358  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

like  a  beggar,  serving,  in  his  own  person,  the  beggars  lodged 
in  the  hospital  which  he  had  built  at  the  gate  of  his  paternal 
house,  now  changed  into  a  monastery .^^ 

Hisausteri-  Once  a  monk,  he  would  be  nothing  less  than  a 
*'C8-  model  of  monks,  and  practised  with  the  utmost  rigor 

all  the  austerities  sanctioned  by  the  rule,  applj'ing  himself 
specially  at  the  same  time  to  the  study  of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 
He  ate  only  pulse  which  his  mother,  who  had  become  a  nun 
since  her  widowhood,  sent  him  to  his  convent,  already  soaked, 
in  a  silver  porringer.  ^This  porringer  was  the  only  remnant 
of  his  ancient  splendor,  and  did  not  remain  long  in  his  hands, 
for  one  day  a  shipwrecked  sailor  came  several  times  to  beg 
from  him  while  he  was  writing  in  his  cell,  and  finding  no 
money  in  his  purse,  he  gave  him  that  relic  of  his  former 
wealth.  Long  after,  Gregory  saw  the  shipwrecked  man,  who 
appeared  to  him  under  the  form  of  his  guardian  angel,  and 
instructed  him  that  from  that  day  God  had  destined  him  to 
govern  his  church,  and  to  be  the  successor  of  Peter,  whose 
charity  he  had  imitated.^ 

Qo n tjnuallx. e " ^a^*^ d  ifl_^ray e r ,  reading,  writingjj2L.^i£i9/- 
tion,  he  persisted  in  pushing  TliB  bje-reiity  of  hfs  faststo 
such  an  extent  that  his  health  succumbed,  and  his  life  itself 
was  in  danger.  He  fell  so  often  into  faintingfits,  that  more 
than  once,  as  he  himself  relates,  he  should  have  sunk  under 
them,  had  not  his  brethren  supported  him  with  more  sub- 
stantial food.35  In  consequence  of  having  attempted  to  do 
more  than  others,  he  was  soon  obliged  to  relinquish  even 
the  most  ordinary  fasts,  which  everybody  observed.  He  was 
in  despair  at  not  being  able  to  fast  even  upon  Easter  eve,  a 
day  on  which  even  the  little  children  fast,  says  his  biogra- 
pher: and  aided  by  the  prayers  of  a  holy  abbot  of  Spoloto 
who  had  become  a  monk  with  him  at  St.  Andrea,  he  obtained 
from  God  the  grace  of  strength  to  observe  that  fast  at  least. 
But  he  remained  weak  and  sickly  all  his  life,  and  when  he 
left  his  monastery,  it  was  with  health  irreparably  ruined. 

Pope  Benedict  I.  drew  him  first  from  the  cloister  in  577, 

^'  "  Qui  ante  serico  contextu  ac  gemmis  micantibus  solitus  erat  per  urbem 
procedere  trabeatus,  post  viii  coiitectus  tegmine  ministrabat  pauper  ipse 
pauperibus."  —  Paul.  Diac-,  c.  2. 

^*  "  Crudis  leguminibus  pascebatur.  .  .  .  Matris  argenteam  quae  cum  in- 
fusis  leguminibus  mitti  solita  erat.  .  .  .  Ego  sum  naufragus  ilie  qui  quondam 
veni  ad  te,  quando  scribebas  in  cella.  .  .  .  Ao  illo  destinavit  te  Dominus  fieri 
praasulem  S.  su£e  Ecclesiae."  —  Joan.  Diacon.,  Fit.  S.  Greg.,  i.  10,  and 
ii.  23. 

^^  "  Nisi  me  frequenter  fratres  cibo  reficerent,  vitalis  mihi  fpiritus  funditui 
intercidi  videretur."  —  Dial.,  iii.  33. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  359 

to  raise  him  to  the  dignity  of  one  of  the  seven  cardinal- 
deacons  or  regionaries,  who  presided  over  the  seven  prin- 
cipal divisions  of  Rome.  He  yielded,  against  his  own  will, 
to  the  authority  of  the  pontiff.  "  When  a  ship,"  said  he,  '^  is 
not  well  moored  in  port,  the  storm  seizes  it,  even  cm  the 
most  secure  coast.  Thus  I  am  plunged  again  into  the  ocean 
of  the  world,  under  an  ecclesiastical  pretext.  I  learn  to  ap- 
preciate the  peace  of  the  monastery  by  losing  it,  though  I 
have  not  been  sufficiently  careful  of  defending  while  1  pos- 
sessed it.36     It  is  still  worse  when  Pope  Pelagius 

-n  ,      1  ■  J  ...  XT  •         i       J.1         He  IS  sent 

11.   sent    him,  as  Apocrisiarius  or  JNuncio,  to  tlie  as  Nuncio 
Emperor  Tiberius.    During  this  involuntary  absence  tfnopie!*'*"* 
he  was  accompanied  by  several  monks  of  the  com-        — 
munity,  devoting  himself  with  them  to  study  and 
reading,  and  following,  as  much  as  possible,  all  the  obser- 
vances  of  the    rule.     "  By  their    example,"  he  wrote,   "■  I 
attach  myself  to  the  coast  of  prayer,  as  with  the  cable  of 
an  anchor,  while  my  soul  is  tossed  upon  the  waves  of  public 
life."  37 

He  discharged  the  duties  of  his  office,  nevertheless,  with 
reputation  and  success,  re-established  between  the  Holy  See 
and  the  B^'zantine  court  the  friendly  relations  which  had 
been  interrupted  by  the  Lombard  invasion,  and  neglected  no 
means  to  obtain  from  Tiberius  and  his  successor,  Maurice, 
the  help  demanded  by  Rome  and  Italy,  against  the  terrible 
invasions,  and  the  more  and  more  oppressive  domination,  of 
the  Lombards.  He  also  learnt  to  know  the  shifts  and  sub- 
terfuges which  the  Byzantine  spirit  already  employed  against 
Roman  unity  and  authority.  He  brought  the  patriarch  Euty- 
chus,  who  denied  the  actual  resurrection  of  the  body,  to  an 
edifying  retractation. 

After  six  years  of  his  honorable  and  laborious  exile,  he 
returned  to  Rome,  and  regained  the  peaceful  shelter  of  his 
monastery  of  St.  Andrea,  the  monks  of  which  elected 
him   abbot   soon   after    his  -retfimi^^^      He    eiyoyed    there 

36  "jjavern  incaute  religatara  .  .  .  tempestas  excutit  ;  repente  me  sub 
praetextu  ecclesiastici  ordinis  in  causarum  sscularium  pelago  referi,  et  quietem 
raonasterii,  quia  habendo  non  fortiter  tenui,  quam  stride  tenenda  fuerit,  per- 
dendo  cognovi."  —  Prcefat.  ad  Job. 

"  "  Ad  orationis  placidum  littus,  quasi  anchorae  fune.  .  .  .  Dum  causarum 
saecularium  vertiginibus  fluctuaret."  —  Prof.  Moralium.  Compare  Dial.,  iii. 
o6;  Joan.  Diac,  i.  26.     Bede,  Hist.  Uccl.,  ii.  1. 

^^  The  chronological  order  of  these  first  events  in  the  public  life  of  St. 
Gregory  has  been  finally  established,  in  the  work  of  the  Mecklemburg  pas- 
tor, Lau,  Gregorder  Grosse,  nach  seinem  Leben  und  scineo-  Lehre  geschildert, 
Leipzig,  1845.    ^'he  history  of  the  great  Pontiff  is  there  written  with  erudi- 


360  ST.  GREGOEY  THE  GREAT. 

Then  elect-  for  some  time  longer  the  delights  of  the  life  which 
hi/monas-  he  had  chosen.  Tenderly  cherished  by  his  breth- 
*'^'"^j .        ren,  he  took  a  paternal   share  in  their  trials  and 

5s^-  spiritual  crosses,  provided  for  their  temporal  and 
spiritual  necessities,  and  specially  rejoiced  in  the  holy  death 
of  Bcveral  among  them.  He  has  related  the  details^  of  these 
in  his  Dialogues,  and  seems  to  breathe  in  them  the  perfume 
of  heaven.  But  the  affectionate  kindness  which  ahvaj'^s  in- 
spired him  did  not  prevent  him  from  maintaining  with  scru- 
pulous severity  the  requirements  of  the  rule.  He  threw  into 
a  ditch  the  body  of  a  monk,  who  had  been  a  skilful  physician, 
and  in  whose  possession  three  pieces  of  gokl  were  found,  in 
contempt  of  the  article  of  the  rule  which  interdicted  all  in- 
dividual property.  The  three  pieces  of  gold  were  thrown 
upon  the  body,  in  presence  of  all  the  monks,  whilst  they 
repeated  aloud  the  words  of  the  vorse,  "  Pecunia  tua  tecum 
sit  in  perditionem,"  When  this  act  of  justice  was  accom- 
plished, mercy  took  its  sway  once  more  in  the  heart  of  the 
abbot,  who  caused  mass  to  be  celebrated  for  thirty  days  suc- 
cessively to  deliver  this  poor  soul  from  purgatory .^^ 

This  tender  solicitude  for  souls  was  on  the  point  of  sepa- 
rating him  from  his  dear  monastery  and  from  Rome.  Every- 
body knows  how  he  saw  exhibited  in  the  market  some  poor 
pagan  children,  of  extraordinary  beauty  and  fairness,  who 
were  said  to  be  of  the  country  of  the  Angles,  to  which  he 
answered,  that  they  were  made  to  become  angels.^o  On 
which  occasion,  hastening  to  the  Pope,  he  begged  him  to 
send  missionaries  into  that  great  island  of  Britain,  where  the 
pagans  sold  such  slaves ;  failing  others,  offered  himself  for 
this  work  ;  surprised  the  pontiff  into  consent,  and  prepared 
instantly  for  his  departure.  But  when  they  understood  his 
intention,  the  love  with  which  the  Romans  had  formerly  re- 
garded him  was  re-awakened.  They  surrounded  the  Pope  as 
he  went  to  St.  Peter's  ;  they  cried  to  him,  "  You  have  offend- 
ed St.  Peter;  you  have  ruined  Rome  in  allowing  Gregory  to 
leave  us."  The  astonished  Pope  yielded  to  the  popular  voice. 
He  sent  messengers  after  Gregory,  who  overtook  him  at 
three  days' journey  from  Rome;  they  led  him  back  forcibly 

lion  and  as  much  impartiality  as  can  be  looked  for  from  a  Protestant  minister, 
(/ompare  S.  G^egorii  Vita  ex  ejus  Scripiis  Adornata,  lib.  i.  c.  5,  in  the  large 
«.'dition  of  liis  works  by  tlie  Benedictines. 

^'^  Dial,,  vi.  55. 

•"  "  Bene  Angli  quasi  angeli,  quia  angelicos  vultus  liabent  et  tales  in  coelis 
angelorum  decet  esse  concives."  —  Joan.  Diac,  i.  21. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  361 

to  bis  monastery.     It  was  not  as  a  missionary,  but  as  a  pope, 
that  he  was  to  win  England  to  the  Church. 

In  590,  Pelagius  II.  died  of  the  plague,  which  He  is  elect 
then  depopulated  Rome.  Gregory  was  immediate-  edpope. 
ly  elected  pope  by  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  soo. 
senate,  the  people,  and  the  clergy.  It  was  in  vain  that  he 
refused,  and  appealed  to  the  Emperor  Maurice  not  to  contirra 
his  election.  The  Romans  intercepted  his  letter;  the  im 
pevial  confirmation  arrived.  Then  he  disguised  himself,  and 
fleeing  from  Rome  to  seek  some  unknown  retreat,  wandered 
throe  days  in  the  woods.  He  was  followed,  discovered,  and 
a  second  time  led  back  to  Rome,  but  this  time  to  roign 
there.  He  bowed  his  head,  weeping,  under  the  yoke  im- 
posed upon  him  by  the  divine  will,  and  the  unanimity  of  his 
fellow-citizens.*^ 

It  was  during  the  interval  between   his   election  and  the 
imperial  confirmation  that,  in  the  hope  of  turning  back  the 
scourge  of  the  plague,  he  caused  the  famous  procession  of 
three  days,  in  which,  for  the  first  time,  all  the  abbots  First  pro- 
of the    Roman    monasteries   appeared    with    their  ^^g^^gi^j**" 
monks,  and   all  the    abbesses    with  their  nuns,  to  lous  orders 
be    celebrated.     Whilst  these  communities  defiled  *'*K'""'^- 
before  Gregorj'-,  he  saw  an  angel  appear  upon  the  summit 
of    the    Hadrian   Mole,    putting    back    his    sword    into    its 
sheath,  the  image  of  which,  standing  upon  the   colossal  mau- 
soleum, has  given  its  name  to  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo,  and 
perpetuated  to  our  own  day  the  recollection  of  St.  Gregory'? 


vision 


42 


The  supreme  pontificate,  perhaps,  never  fell  upon  Gregory 
a  soul  more  disturbed  and  afflicted  than  that  of  the  reg-retsthe 

I  •  1  f    1  1  1  I  peace  or 

monk  who  saw  hniiselt  tbus  condemned  to  exchange  hiscioistrai 
the  peace  of  the  cloister  for  the  cares  of  the  gov-  '  ^' 
ernment  of  the  universal  Church,  and  the  special  defence  of 
the  interests  of  Italy.  Not  only  then,  but  during  all  his  h"fe, 
he  did  not  cease  to  lament  his  fate.  His  sadness  displayed 
itself  first  in  his  answers  to  the  congratulations  which  reached 

■"  "  Infirmitatis  mese  conscius  secretiora  loca  petere  decreveram.  •  .  . 
Ju,^o  oonditoris  subdidi  cervicem." — Epist.,  vii.  4,  edit.  Benedict.  In  re- 
terring  to  the  epistles,  we  have  almost  always  followed  the  order  established 
in  tiie  edition  of  the  Benedictines,  which  diflt'ers  considerably  from  the  ancient 
classification,  quoted  by  Mabillon,  Fleurs,  &c.  "  Decretura  generalitatij 
fcvadere  nequivit.  .  .  .  Capitur,  trahitur,  consecratur."  —  Joan.  DiAC,  Vit. 
Greg.,  i.  41. 

■*-  Compare  Greg.  Tijronens.,  Hist.  Franc,  x.  i. ;  Paul.  DtAC,  Pe  Gesi 
Longcb.,  iii.  25;  Joan  Diac,   Vit.  Greg.,  i.  41. 

VOL.  I.  31 


362  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

him  from  all  quarters  :  "  I  have  lost,"  he  wrote  to  the  sister 
of  the  emporor,  *'  the  profound  joys  of  repose.  '  I  seem  to 
have  been  elevated  in  external  things,  but  in  spiritual  I  have 
fallen.  ...  I  endeavor  daily  to  withdraw  from  the  world  and 
from  the  flesh,  to  see  heavenly  joys  in  the  spirit.  .  .  .  Nei- 
ther desiring  nor  fearing  anything  in  this  world,  I  felt  myself 
above  everything.  But  the  storm  of  temptation  has  cast  me  all 
at  once  among  alarms  and  terrors  ;  for,  though  1  still  fear  noth- 
ing for  myself,  I  fear  much  for  those  of  whom  I  have  the 
charge."*^  To  the  patrician  Narses:  "I  am  so  overcome 
with  melanchol}'-,  that  I  can  scarcely  speak ;  the  darkness  of 
grief  assails  the  eyes  of  my  soul ;  I  see  nothing  that  is  not 
sad,  and  everything  which  is  supposed  to  please  me  appears 
to  me  lamentable.  For  I  cannot  cease  to  see  from  what  a 
height  of  tranquillity  I  have  fallen,  and  to  what  a  height  of 
embarrassment  I  have  ascended."  **  To  Andrew,  of  the  rank 
called  Illustrious:  "  When  you  hear  of  my  promotion  to  the 
episcopate,  weep,  if  you  love  me  :  for  there  are  so  many 
temporal  occupations  here,  that  I  find  myself  by  this  dignity 
almost  separated  from  the  love  of  God."  ^^  To  the  patrician 
John,  who  had  contributed  to  his  election  :  '*  I  complain  of 
3^our  love,  which  has  drawn  me  from  the  repose  which  you 
know  I  sought.  God  reward  you  with  eternal  gifts  for  your 
good  intention,  but  I  pray  Him  deliver  me,  as  he  shall  please, 
from  so  many  perils;  for,  as  my  sins  deserve,  I  have  be- 
come bishop,  not  only  of  the  Romans,  but  of  these  Lombards 
who  acknowledge  only  the  right  of  the  sword,  and  whose 
favor  is  torture.  See  how  much  your  patronage  has  brought 
me."*^  Then,  taking  up  once  more  these  images  which  he 
loved  to  borrow  from  maritime  life,  he  said  to  his  intimate 
friend  Leander,  bishop  of  Toledo,  whom  he  had  met  at  Con- 
stantinople :  "  I  am  here  so  beaten  by  the  waves  of  this 
world,  tliat  I  despair  of  being  able  to  guide  to  port  this 
rotten  old  vessel  with  which  God  has  charged  me.  ...  I 
must  hold  the  helm  amid  a  thousand  difficulties.  ...  I  al- 
ready hear  the  bell  of  shipwreck  ringing.  ...  I  weep  when 
I  recall  the  peaceful  shore  which  I  have  left,  and  sigh  in  per- 
ceiving afar  that  which  I  cannot  attain."  ^'^ 

*'  "  Alta  quietis  meas  gaudia  pcrdiili."  —  Epist.,  i.  5. 

**  Epist.,  \.  6. 

*'"  "  Si  me  diligitis,  plangite."  —  Epist.,  i.  30. 

*^  '"Quorum  synthicae  spathse  sunt,  et  gratia  poena.  Ecce  ubi  patrocinia 
vestra  me  perduxerunt." —  Epist.,  i.  '61. 

47  ''Vetustamac  putrescentein  navini.  .  .  .  Flens  remin\scor  quod  per 
didi  raeae  placidum  littus  quietis."  —  Epist.,  i.  43. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  363 

One  day,  long  after,  when,  more  than  ever  overwhelmed 
by  the  burden  of  secular  affairs,  he  had  withdrawn  into  a 
secret  place,  to  give  himself  up  to  silence  and  sadness,  he 
was  joined  there  by  the  deacon  Peter,  his  pupil,  the  friend 
of  his  3'outh  and  companion  of  his  beloved  studies.  "  Has 
some  new  trouble  happened  to  you,"  said  the  young  man, 
"  that  3'ou  are  thus  sadder  than  usual?"  •*  My  grief,"  an- 
swered the  pontiff,  "  is  that  of  all  my  days,  always  old  by 
custom,  and  always  new  by  its  daily  increase,"  ^^  My  poor 
soul  recalls  what  ii:  was  of  old  in  our  monastery,  when  it 
soared  over  everything  changeable  and  transitory ;  when  it 
dreamt  only  of  heaven  ;  when  by  contemplation  it  escaped 
from  the  cloister  of  this  body  which  enclosed  it;  when  it 
loved  death  as  tlie  entrance  of  life.  And  now,  because  of 
my  pastoral  charge,  it  must  bear  the  burdens  of  the  men  of 
the  world,  and  soil  itself  in  this  dust.  And  when,  after  hav- 
ing exhausted  itself  without,  it  comes  back  to  its  internal 
retreat,  it  returns  with  diminished  forces.  1  meditate  on  all 
I  have  suffered  and  lost.  I  see  myself  tossed  by  the  ocean 
and  broken  by  the  tempest.  When  I  think  of  my  former 
life,  I  seem  to  look  back  towards  the  shore.  And  what  is 
still  more  sad,  when  thus  shaken  by  the  storm,  I  can  scarcely 
perceive  the  port  which  I  have  left."^^ 

These  exclamations  of  profound  grief  tell  us  all  that  we 
require  to  know  of  the  influence  of  this  cloistral  life,  which 
swayed  to  such  an  extent  the  holy  soul  of  the  greatest  man 
of  his  age. 

It  is  true  that  the  condition  of  the  world  and  the  state  of 
Church,  at  the  advent  of  Gregory,  exhibited  only  andirhe^** 
causes  of  grief  and  alarm.     An  obstinate,  although  ^Jg^^dven* 
restrained    schism,    which    dated    from    the    fifth  of  Gregory. 

*^  "  Quadam  die  .  .  .  secretum  locum  petii  amicura  mceroris  .  .  .  dilectis- 
Binius  filius  meus  Petrus  .  .  .  niihi  a  primsevo  juventutis  flore  amicitiia 
fiimiliiiriter  obstrictus.  .  .  .  Num  quidquam  novi.  .  .  .  Moeror,  Petre,  quem 
qnotidie  patior,  et  semper  inihi  per  usum  vetus  est,  et  semper  per  augmentum 
novus." —  Prcefat.  ad  Dialog. 

*^  "Infclix  animus  meus  occupationis  sujb  pulsatus  vulnere  meminit  quails 
nliquanclo  in  monastorio  fuit,  quoraodo  ci  labentia  cuncta  subter  erant.  .  .  . 
Quod  etiara  rG);pntus  corpore  ipsa  jam  carnis  claustra  contemplationem  tran- 
sibat,  quod  mortem  quoque,  quEe  pene  cunctis  poena  est,  videlicet  ut  ingressum 
vitse  et  laboris  prsemiuni  amabat.  At  nunc  ,  .  .  et  post  tarn  pulchram  quietia 
suas  specicm  terreni  actus  pulvere  foedatur.  .  .  .  Ecce  etenim  nunc  magni 
maris  tluctibus  quatior,  atque  in  navi  multis  tempestatis  validse  procellis  in- 
lidQ.r;  et  cum  prioris  vitae  recolo,  quasi  post  tergum  reductis  oculis  viso  lit- 
tore  suspiro  .  .  .  vix  jam  portum  valeo  videre  queni  reliqui."  —  Proeem.  ad 
Dialog. 


364  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

general  council,^^  and  which  had  lasted  forty  years,  con- 
sumed the  powers  of  the  clergy.  The  papacy,  always  depen- 
dent on  the  B^'zantine  emperors,  and  unceasingly  humiliated 
by  them,  did  not  even  find,  in  tlie  arm  of  these  distrustful  and 
incapable  masters,  the  support  whicli  it  needed  against  its 
enemies  from  within  and  without.  Within  the  sliadow  of 
their  throne  flourislied  those  patriarclis  of  Constantinople, 
whose  ambition  already  aspired  to  the  title  of  universal,  and 
who  were  to  end  by  rending  the  Church  in'  twain.  Africa 
was  a  prey  to  the  Donatists  ;  Spain  was  entirely  Arian  ;  Eng- 
land had  fallen  back  into  idolatry  ;  in  Gaul,  despite  the  Catho- 
lic faith  professed  by  the  successors  of  Clovis,  simony  polluted 
the  Churc]],  and  the  struggles  of  Fredegond  and  Brunehaut 
distressed  all  Christians ;  in  the  East,  the  Avars  and  Per- 
sians threatened  or  ravaged  the  empire.  But  nothing  was 
more  lamentable  than  tjie  state  of  Itnlv.     As  if  the 

Italy  fit 

oneo  aban-  scourge  of  God,  floods,  phigue,  and  fimine,  were 
oppressed  ^^ot  euough,  men  rent  each  other  with  contentions, 
bytiie  ^jr^d  disordei's  of  all  kind   invaded  the   Church,  fol- 

j  '  lowing  in  the  steps  of  persecution  and  war.  The 
Lombards,  who  from  being  pagans  had  become  Arians, believed 
that  by  persecuting  furiously  the  Roman  Church  they  would 
secure  their  power  against  the  Greeks;  they  regarded  the 
papacy  as  the  servant  of  the  Byzantine  court,  and  conse- 
quently as  their  own  habitual  enemy.  The  Greek  emperors, 
on  their  side,  accused  the  popes  of  treason,  because  they  did 
not  sacrifice  everything  to  the  necessities  of  imperial  policy, 
or  of  usurpation,  because  they  took  upon  themselves  the  task 
of  providing  for  the  public  necessities  when  the  inaction  or 
powerlessness  of  the  lieutenants  of  Csesar  became  too  evident. 
In  reality,  the  successors  of  Constantine,  with  an  instinctive 
perception  of  the  future,  perceived  already,  in  tlie  successors 
of  St.  Peter,  the  power  which  God  had  destined  to  replace 
their  decrepid  sovereignty,  in  Italy  and  over  that  city  in 
which  the  imagination  of  Christendom  still  placed  the  centre 
of  the  empire  and  the  cause  of  its  existence.  Thence  came 
their  tortuous,  oppressive,  and  inconsistent  policy.  They 
would  be  obeyed  as  masters,  by  nations  whom  tliey  knew  not 
how  to  defend  ;  and  as,  amid  the  ruins  which  despotism  had 
everywhere  accumulated,  the  papacy  alone  was  seen  stand- 
ing, they  willingly  made  the  popes  responsible  for  the  conse- 
quences of  their  own  weakness. 

*"  The  second  of  Constantinople,  in  553. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  365 

The  poor  monk  who  showed  so  much  despair  when  he  was 
thrown  into  that  whirlpool  by  the  unanimous  voice  of  the 
Romans,  could  yet  perceive  with  a  bold  and  clear  glance  the 
dangers  of  the  situation,  and  adopt  a  line  of  conduct  Avhich 
was  a  manifest  realization  of  the  infallible  jiromises  of  Jesus 
Christ.  He  founded  the  tempoud  greatness  of  the  Holy  See, 
and  the  progress  of  its  spiritual  authority,  upon  the  basia, 
long  iinraovable,  of  the  gratitude  and  admiration  of  nations. 

First  of  all,  and  especially,  he  concerned  himself    connection 
with    the    Lombards.       Although    he    has    perhaps   ';rtwoen 
iuds2,-ed  too  severely  in  his  writings  this  proud  and   amrtiie 

•     ,    'ii-  ,  I  "^  1      1        *   1    ^'     „     Lombards. 

mteihgent  race,  whose  courage  and  legislative 
powers  have  attracted  the  attention  of  posterity,  and  who 
were  -a  hundred  times  more  worthy  than  the  degenerate 
Greco-Romans,  whose  authority  he  loyally  endeavored  to 
re-establish  in  Italy,  Gregory  used  in  his  intercourse  with 
them  no  means  that  were  not  legitimate  and  honorable.  He 
had  a  right,  after  long  and  laborious  negotiations  with  them, 
to  bear  this  testimony  to  himself,  '*  Had  I  been  willing  to  lend 
myself  to  the  destruction  of  the  Lombards,  that  nation  would 
have  had  to-day  neither  kings,  dukes,  nor  counts,  and  would 
have  been  a  prey  to  irremediable  confusion;  but  because  I 
fear  God  I  would  not  assist  in  the  ruin  of  any."^^  He 
doubtless  alluded  to  the  treacheries  planned  by  the  exarchs 
of  Ravenna,  who  were  the  emperor's  viceroys  in  Italy,  by 
which  they  attempted  to  make  up  for  their  military  inferiority 
before  the  Lombards.  The  Roman  exarch  Avas,  by  his  ani- 
mosity and  cowardice,  one  of  the  principal  afflictions  of  Greg- 
ory's life.  After  having  broken  the  peace  with  the  Lom- 
bards, and  thus  justified  the  renewed  hostilities  of  their  dukes 
Ariulf  ^^2.  and  Arigis^^  in  Central"  and  Southern  Italy,  he 
abandoned  Rome  and  Naples  without  defence,  and  notwith- 
standing interdicted  the  pope  from  treating  with  the  invaders. 
It  was  then  that  Gregory  displayed  all  the  resolution  of  a 
valiant  captain,  with  all  the  authority  of  a  sovereign.  He 
did  not  content  himself  wnth  complaining  bitterly  to  the  Em- 
peror Maurice  of  the  desertion  of  Italy,  and  that,  in  order  to 
guard  Perugia,  Rome  had  been  left  defenceless.  *'  I  was 
obliged,"  he  wrote  to  him,  "to  see  with  my  own  eyes  the 
Romans  led  into  France  with  ropes  round  their  necks  like 

°'  Episi.,  iv.  47,  5.  —  He  wrote  this  in  598. 
^*  Duke  of  Spoleto. 
"  Duke  of  Benevento. 

31* 


366  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

dogs,  to  be  sold  in  the  market."  ""^  But  he  himself  provided 
what  was  most  urgent,  wi-ote  to  the  military  leaders  to  en- 
courage them  in  resistance,  pointed  out  to  the  soldiers 
assembled  at  Naples  the  leader  whom  they  should  follow,  fed 
the  people,  paid  the  troops  their  wages  and  the  Barbarians 
their  contributions  of  war,  all  at  the  expense  of  the  ecclesias- 
tical treasury.  "  The  emperor,"  he  wrote  to  the  empress, 
"has  a  treasurer  for  his  troops  at  Ravenna,  but  as  for  me,  [ 
am  the  treasurer  of  the  Lombards  at  Eome."  ^° 

At  a  later  period,  the  king  of  the  Lombards,  Agilulf,  dis- 
gusted by  the  renewed  treachery  of  the  imperial  exarch,  laid 
siege  to  Rome  itself.  Gregorj^,  who  was,  above  everything 
else,  a  bishop,  and  watched  over  the  spiritual  interests  of  the 
Romans  with  still  more  care  than  he  exerted  for  their  material 
defence,  was  then  expounding  the  prophet  Ezekiel  in  his 
sermons.  He  interrupted  his  discourses  more  than  once  to 
breathe  out  his  grief,  and  to  deplore  the  misfortunes  of  the 
eternal  city.  "  Two  things  specially  trouble  me,"  he  s'aid, 
when  he  was  asked  at  least  to  explain  the  last  chapters  of  the 
prophet  upon  the  re-establishment  of  the  temple :  "  the  ob- 
scurity of  the  text,  and  the  news  that  King  Agilulf  has  passed 
the  Po  on  his  way  to  besiege  us.  Judge,  my  brethren,  how 
a  poor  soul,  thus  troubled  and  distracted,  can  penetrate  into 
such  mysteries."  56  And  again,  "  What  does  the  world  con- 
tain which  can  please  us?  .  .  .  We  see  nothing  but  sadness, 
we  hear  only  groans.  .  .  .  Rome,  once  mistress  of  the  world, 
how  do  we  see  her  fallen!  Where  is  the  senate?  where  is 
the  people?  But  why  speak  I  of  men  ?  The  very  buildings 
are  destroyed  and  the  walls  crumble  down.  .  .  .  Once  her 
princes  and  chiefs  spread  themselves  over  all  the  earth  to 
possess  it.  The  sons  of  worldly  men  hastened  hither  to  ad- 
vance themselves  in  the  world.  Now  that  she  is  deserted 
and  ruined,  no  man  comes  here  to  seek  his  fortune :  there  is 
no  power  remaining  to  oppress  the  poor."  After  a  time  he 
announced  that  he  should  stop  his  preaching:  "  Let  no  one 
blame  me  if  I  put  an  end  to  this  discourse.  You  all  perceive 
how  our  tribulations  increase.  The  sword  and  death  are 
everywhere.  Some  return  to  us  with  their  hands  cut  off, 
with  the  news  that  others  are  taken  or  killed.  1  must  be 
silent,  because  my  soul  is  weary  of  life."  ^^ 

'"'  "  Quod  oculis  nieis  cernereni  Ronianos  more  canuni  in  collis  funibus  li- 
gatos.   .   .  .  Qui  ad  Franciam  ducebantur  venalcs." —  Upist.,  v.  40. 

**  Epist.,  V.  21.  ^«  Bomil.  18. 

*^  "  Undique  sladiis,  .  .  .  un<Hque  mortis  periculum.  .  .  .  Alii  detruncatia 
manibus.  .  .  .  Tsedet  animani  meam  vitae  nieEe." — Homil.  ult.  in  Ezechiel. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  3G7 

Agiluir,  however,  for  some  unknown  reason,  did  not  sue- 
ceed  in  tuking  Eoine.  All  the  surrounding  country  was 
once  more  devastated,  and  the  incurable  desolation  and  un- 
wholesome barrenness  of  the  Roman  Campagna  dates  from 
this  period  ;  but  the  cit}'  was  spared,  (xregory  could  verify 
the  prophecy  of  St.  Benedict,  who  had  predicted  that  Rome, 
condemned  to  the  most  cruel  trials,  sliould  sink  back  upon 
herself,  but  sliould  not  be  destroyed.^^  He  could  still  con- 
continue  to  watch  over  these  crumbling  walls,  these  over- 
thrown palaces,  these  buildings  worn  out  with  extreme  old 
age.^^  But,  as  a  reward  for  his  generous  and  useful  efforts, 
he  received  only  new  denunciations  from  the  exarch,  and  a 
reprimand  from  the  emperor,  who  reproached  hirn  in  insult- 
ing terms  with  his  simplicity.  "  I  understand,"  the  pope  re- 
plied to  him,  "  what  the  language  of  your  serene  missives 
means:  you  find  that  I  have  acted  like  a  fool,  and  you  are 
right.  If  I  had  not  acted  like  a  fool  I  should  not  liave  borne 
all  that  I  have  borne  for  you  among  the  swords  of  the  Lom^ 
bards. '"^*^     He  succeeded  at  last,  after  nine  vears'   „. 

,        „        '        .  •  His  media- 

exertions,  in  overcoming  the  Jiyzantine  repugnance   tion  be 
to  acknowledge  any  right  whatever  on  the  side  of  zaiiHum^' 
the  Lombards,  and  concluded  a  peace  between  the  ^"om^brrds. 
two  powers  which  made  Italy,  exhausted  by  thirty        — 
years  of  war  and  brigandage,  thrill  with  joy.   It  was 
of  short  duration  ;  but  when  hostilities  recommenced,  he  en- 
tered into  direct  negotiation  with  King  Agilulf,  and  obtained 
from  that  prince  a  special  trace  for  Rome  and  its  surround- 
ing territory.     He  had  besides  found  a  powerful  advocate 
with  the  Lombard  king  in  the  peison  of  the  illus-  ^„j,^jf 
trious  Queen  Theodelinda,  who  was  the  Clotilde  of  aiKixheo- 
these   last  conquerors  of  Italy.      This   princess,  a 
Bavarian  and  Catholic  by  birth,  the  widow  of  King  Autharis 
by  her  first  marriage,  had  so  gained  the  heart  of  the  Lom- 
bards, that  they  conferred  upon  her  the  right  of  designating 
his   successor   by  marrying  whomsoever   she   thought  most 
worthy  of  reigning  with  her.     In  this  way  she  had  given  her 
hand  and  crown  to  Duke  Agilulf,  in  the  same  year  as  that  in 

**  "  Roma  a  gentilibus  non  exierminabitur,  sed  ...  in  semetipsa  marces- 
cet." —  Dial.,  ii.  15. 

'■'  "  Dissoiuta  rucenia,  eversas  donios,  .  .  .  tedificia  longo  senio  lassata.' 
-■Ihid. 

*"  '•  In  serenissimis  jussionibus  dominorum  pietas  .  .  .  urbanae  simplici- 
tatis  vocabulo  me  fatuuni  appellat.  .  .  .  Simplex  denuncior :  constat  procul 
dubio  quia  fatuus  appellor  .  .  .  quod  ita  esse  ego  quoque  confiteor."  — 
Epist.,  V.  40. 


368  ST.  TxREGORY  THE  GKEAT. 

wbioli  Gregorv  ascended  the  Holy  See.  Tlieso  two  noble 
hearts  soon  un(Jerstood  each  other.  The  queen  was  always 
the  faithful  frit.'ud  of  the  pope;  she  served  as  a  medium  of 
communication  between  him  and  her  husband.  It  is  not 
certain  whether  she    succeeded  in   conv^ertinar  the 

Conversion  ^i   ,  i  i      -    <  111  •         i 

Of  the  latter,^-^  but  her  gentle  miluence  led  the  entire  Lom- 

ombar  s.  j^^^^  uatiou,  little  by  little,  from  Arianisra  to  the 
Catholic  faith.  Gregory,  from  the  very  beginning  of  his  pon- 
tificate, had  exhorted  the  Italian  bishops  to  make  special 
exertions  for  the  conversion  of  these  formidable  enemies  of 
orthodoxy .^2  It  is  believed  that  the  queen  was  powerfully 
aided  in  this  work  by  the  Dialogues  which  Gregory  had  com- 
piled from  the  narratives  of  the  first  disciples  and  successors 
of  St.  Benedict,  and  in  which  he  related  the  life  of  that  patri- 
arch of  the  monastic  order,  and  the  marvels  of  fervor  and 
penitence  exhibited  by  the  monks  who  were  imbued  with  his 
spirit.  This  work  was  dedicated  to  the  Lombard  queen,  as 
if  to  enable  her  to  show  to  the  devastators  of  Italy  proofs  of 
the  sanctity  and  moral  greatness  with  which  the  orthodox 
faith  alone  could  endow  the  vanquished. 

It  was  thus  that  Gregory  snatched  Rome  from  the  j'oke  of 
conquest.  He  not  only  preserved  her  from  the  Lombards, 
but  sheltered  her  from  the  violence  of  all  the  petty  tyrants 
of  the  neighborhood,  who  rose  amidst  the  universal  confusion. 
But  his  soul  was  consumed,  says  one  of  his  historians,  by  the 
fire  of  perpetual  alarms  concerning  the  fate  of  his  children, 
and  that  consecrated  soil  which  he  regarded  as  their  inheri- 
tance.^^ We  can  understand  now  how  the  patriotism  of 
popes,  such  as  Gregory,  created  their  temporal  power,  and 
how,  "  sole  guardians  of  Rome,  they  remained  its  masters."  ^^ 
However,  he  required  still  more  constancy  and 
c^i'ram/*^'  courage  to  contend  with  the  Greeks,  with  that 
Itru^^'X^s  Eastern  Empire  which  was  represented  byfunction- 
with  The  aries  whose  odious  exactions  had  quite  as  great  a 
emperois.  ^^^^^^^  jj^  ^^xq  despair  of  the  people  as  the  ravages  of 
the  Barbarians,  and  whose  malice  was  more  dreadful,  as  he 
wrote,  than  the  sword  of  the  Lombards:  "  They  can  only  kill 
our  bodies,  while  the  imperial  judges  devour  our  souls  by 

*'  St.  Columba,  in  a  letter  written  in  607,  speaks  of  liim  as  still  an 
Arian. 

«^  Episi.,  i.  29. 

**  "  Urebant  incessanter  ejus  animum  filiorum  hinc  inde  discrimina  nun- 
tiata."  —  Paul.  Diac,  c.  13 

**  OzANAM,  Unpublished  Fragment  on  S.  Gregory. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  369 

their  rapine  and  fraud."  ^^  Elsewhere  he  denounces  to  the 
empress  the  officers  who,  in  Sardinia,  sold  to  the  pagans  for 
money  the  permission  to  sacrifice  to  their  idols,  and  con- 
tinued to  collect  that  impost  from  those  who  had  been  bap- 
tized, and  who,  in  Corsica,  overwhehned  the  inhabitants  with 
Buch  burdens  that  they  were  reduced  to  selling  their  chil- 
dren, and  fleeing  to  seek  refuge  among  the  Lombards.^^  It 
was  the  same  in  Sicily,  and  the  revenues  provided  by  their 
extortions  were  to  be  employed  in  the  defence  of  Italy.  But, 
said  Gregory  to  the  empress,  "  it  might  be  suggested  to  the 
emperor  that  it  would  be  better  to  give  up  some  expenses  in 
Italy,  in  order  to  dry  the  tears  of  the  oppressed  in  Sicily .^'^  1 
say  this  briefly,  and  only  that  the  supreme  Judge  may  not 
impute  my  silence  to  me  as  a  crime." 

The  entire  life  of  Gregory  was  then  a  struggle  which 
with  the  Byzantine  spirit,  with  the  patriarch  of  Int.^'ifis'^"'"" 
Constantinople,  who  aimed  at  supplanting  the  Eo-  whole  life. 
man  pontiff",  as  well  as  with  the  emperor,  who  would  have 
dominated  Italy  without  defending  her,  and  ruled  the  Church 
as  if  she  had  been  only  a  province  of  his  enipire.  God  had 
sent  him,  before  his  pontificate,  to  Constantinople,  that  he 
might  the  better  understand  that  field  of  battle''^  in  which  he 
won  for  the  Church  more  than  one  difficult  victory. 

Among  so  many  conflicts  —  through  which  Greg-  conflict 
cry  always  maintained    the  rights  and  dignities  of  ^'t|?ja'ch 
the  Holy  See,  conciliating,  at  the  same  time,  with  ofconstan- 
extraordinary  precautions,  the  arrogance  of  the  By-  th'eTiti°of 
zantine  court  —  we  shall   dwell  only  on  that  one    Universal. 
which  arose  between  him  and  the  patriarch  of  Constantinople, 
John,  surnamed  the  Faster.     Relying  on  the  support  of  most 
of  the  Eastern   bishops,  faithful   to   the  proud   pretensions 
which  for  two   centuries  past  had  been  entertained  by  the 
bishops  of  the  imperial  residence,  and   preluding  thus  the 
disastrous  ambition  of  his  successors,  this  monk,  who  had 
began  by  a  pretence  of  refusing  the  episcopate,  took  in  his 
acts  the  title  of  oecumenical  or  universal  patriarch.    Gregory 
stood  up  with  as  much  vigor  as  authority  against  this  strange 
pretension.     He  did  not  draw  back  before  the  emperor,  who 

**  "  Ejus  in  nos  malitia  gladios  Longobardorum  vicit,  ita  ut  benigniorea 
yideantur  hostes,  quia  nos  interimunt,  quam  Reipublicae  judices,  qui  noa 
.  .  .  rapinis  atque  fallaciis  in  cogitatione  consuraunt."  —  Epist.,  v.  42. 

6«  Ibid..  V.  41. 

®'  "  Sed  ego  suggero  ad  hoc,  ut,  etsi  minus  expensaa  in  Italia  tribuantur,  a 
BUM  trnien  imperio  oppressorum  lacrymas  compescat."  —  Ibid. 

**  L>OM  PiTKA.,  Hist,  de  S.  Leger,  Introduction. 


870  ST.  GREGOEY  THE  GREAT. 

Openly  sided  with  the  bishop  of  his  new  capital,  and,  althouo^h 
deserted  in  the  struggle  by  the  two  other  patriarchs  of  An- 
tioch  and  Alexandria,  who  would  have  been  equally  wounded 
by  the  usurpation  of  him  of  Constantinople,  Gregory  perse- 
vered, during  all  his  pontiticate,^^  in  his  resistance  to  that 
wretched  assumption,  in  which  he  perceived  less  an  attempt 
upon  the  unity  and  authority  of  the  universal  Church,  than 
an  excess  of  pride  on  one  side  and  adulation  on  the  other, 
which  disgusted  his  humble  and  generous  soul."*^ 

"  What ! "  he  wrote  to  the  emperor,  "  St.  Peter,  who  re- 
ceived the  kej's  of  heaven  and  earth,  the  power  of  binding 
and  loosing,  the  charge  and  primacy  of  the  whole  Church, 
waa  never  called  universal  apostle  ;  and  yet  my  pious  brother 
tlohn  would  name  himself  universal  bishop.  I  must  needs 
exclaim,  0  tempera  !  0  mores  !  All  Europe  is  in  the  power 
of  the  Barbarians.  The  cities  are  overthrown,  the  castles 
are  in  ruins,  the  provinces  are  depopulated,  the  soil  has  no 
longer  hands  to  cultivate  it ;  idolaters  pursue  the  faithful 
even  to  death.  And  priests  who  should  prostrate  themselves 
in  the  courts  of  the  temple  in  dust  and  ashes,  seek  after  titles 
of  vanity  !  "  He  took  care  to  explain  to  the  emperoi'  that  he 
did  not  defend  his  own  cause,  but  that  of  the  whole  Church, 
which  was  scandalized  by  such  an  unheard-of  pretension.  He 
reminded  him  that  Nestorius  and  Macedonius,  both  bishops 
of  Constantinople,  had  both  been  heretics  and  heresiarchs. 
He  added  :  ''  For  me,  1  am  the  servant  of  all  the  priests  as 
long  as  they  live  in  a  manner  becoming  the  priesthood :  but 
if  any  one  raises  his  head  against  God  and  against  the  laws 
of  our  fathers,  I  am  confident  that  he  shall  not  make  me  bow 
mine,  even  with  the  sword."  '^ 

**  The  contest  was  renewed  under  Phocas.  Neither  the  emperor  nor  the 
patriarch  would  yield.  If  Gregory  did  not  obtain  the  victory,  he  at  least 
paved  the  way  for  that  of  his  successor  Boniface  III.,  under  whom  the  em- 
peror Phocas  forbade  the  patriarch  the  use  of  the  contested  title ;  but  during 
tile  following  reign,  under  Heraclius,  it  was  resumed  by  the  patriarch  Ser- 
gius  In  return,  the  popes  then  resumed  the  right  to  confirm  the  patriarchs 
of  Constantmople  —  a  right  from  which  the  latter  had  been  emancipated  for 
a  century,  and  wjiich  Photius  did  not  succeed  in  overthrowing  until  three 
centuries  later.  —  Barokius.,  Annal.,  ad  606.     Lau.  p.  165. 

^"  "  Quousque  pestem  universalis  nominis  ab  ipsis  etiam  subdolis  adulato- 
runi  labiis  penitus  abstulisset." — Joan.  Diac,    Vit.,  iii.  c.  59. 

"  "  Et  vir  sanctissimus  consacerdos  mens  Joannes.  .  .  .  Exclamare  com- 
pellor  ac  dicere  :  O  temporal  0  mores !  Ecce  cuncta  in  Europse  partibus 
.  .  .  Et  tamen  sacer:'otes  qui  in  pavimento  et  cinere  flentos  jacere  debue- 
runt.  .  .  .  Kumquid  ego  hac  in  re  .  .  .  propriam  causain  defendo.  .  .  .  Ego 
cunctorum  sacerdotuu)  servus  sum.  .  .  Nam  qui  contra  Dominum  .  .  . 
fcuaiu  cervicem  erigit,  .  .  .  confido  quia  nieam  sibi  nee  cum  gladiis  flectet." 
—  Epist.,  ',.  20. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  371 

Gregory  was  so  much  the  more  bold  in  combating  the  dan- 
gerous vanity  of  tlie  Byzantine  patriarcli,  that  he  himself  had 
displayed  on  all  occasions  a  sincere   and    practical   humility. 
His  vast  correspondence  and  all  the  acts  of  his  life  furnish  a 
thousand  touching  proofs  of  it.     He  had  impressed  the  seal 
of  this  humility  upon  the  papacy  itself,  by  adopting,  first  of 
all  the  pjpes,  in  the  preamble  of  his  official  documents,  the 
fine  title  of  Servant  of  the  servants  of  God,  which   Nobieim- 
has  become  the   distinctive   titleof  his  j;uccessors.   Qre^^-^ry 
HelTad  expressly  retTTsedThe^same  name  of  universal  sermmt  oj 
Mshop  or  pope,  which  had  been   given   him    by  the   rants  of 
patriarch,  of  Alexandria.    His  nragnanimous  humility    ^'"'" 
displays  itself  fully  in  these  noble  words  of  his  letter  to  this 
patriarch.     "  I  desire  to  increase  in  virtue  and  not  in  words. 
I  do  not  consider  m3'sclf   honored  in  that  Avhich  dishonors 
raj'  brethren.     It  is  the  honor  of  the  universal  Church  which 
honors  me.     It  is  tlie  strength  and  greatness  of  my  brethren 
in  the  episcopate  which  does  me  honor.     I  feel  myself  truly 
honored  only  when  I  see  that  no  man  refuses  to  another  the 
honor  due  to  him.     Away  with   those   words  which  inflate 
vanity  and  w<Mind    charity  !  .  .  .  The  holy   Council  of  Chal- 
cedon  and  other  Fathers  have  offered  this  title  to  my  prede- 
cessors, but  none  of  them  has  ever  used  it,  that  thoy  might 
guard  their  own  honor  in  the  sight  of  God,  by  seeking  hero 
below  the  honor  of  all  the  priesthood."  ""^ 

This  weighty  difference,  another  of  which  we  shall  speak 
regarding  the  prohibition  addressed  to  soldiers  to  sirnggies 
their  becoming  monks,  and  especially  that  which  Kn*,ppro*r 
arose  between  the  pope  and  the  emperor  touching  Mauriee. 
the  irregular  election  of  the  metropolitan  of  Salona,  contrib- 
uted to  render  almost  permanent  the  misunderstanding  be- 
tween them.  That  Eastern  world  which  was  so  soon  to 
become  the  prey  of  Islam,  was  obstinate  in  ignoring  its  best 
chance  of  salvation,  in  alienating  the  nations  and  Churches 
of  the  West,  and  in  weakening  by  a  minute  and  vexatious 
despotism  the  Christian  life  wln'ch  had  blossomed  with  so 
much  promise  in  its  bosom.  Gi'egory  had  to  exercise  an 
incessant  vigilance,  to  prevent  the  immense  army  of  lay 
officials,  from  the  emperor  down  to  the  meanest  agent  of  the 

'^  "  Ego  non  verbis  quaero  prosperari,  sed  moribus ;  nee  honorem  meum 
esse  deputo  in  quo  fratres  nieos  honorem  suuni  perdere  cognosco.  Meui 
namque  honor  est  honor  universalis  EcclesicB.  Meus  honor  est  fratrum  rae- 
orum  solidus  vigor.  Tuni  ergo  vere  honoratus  sum,  cum  singulis  quihusque 
honor  debitus  non  negatur.  .  .  .  Recedant  verba  quae  vanitatem  in  tiant,  cari 
latem  vulnerant."  —  Epist.,  viii.  c.  30. 


372  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

treasury,  from  encroaching  upon  the  rights  and  liberties  of 
the  Church,  and  especially  from  relaxing  or  attempting  to 
break  the  ties  of  subordination  which  connected  individual 
chnrches  with  the  Holy  See.  And  he  had  also  to  reconcile 
this  permanent  and  universal  resistance  with  the  submission 
which  he  professed  and  practised,  to  the  best  of  bis  power, 
towards  the  empire  in  temporal  affairs.  In  claiming  for  the 
Church  an  almost  absolute  libei'ty  and  sovereignty  in  spirit- 
iiiil  matters,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  declare  himself  the  hum- 
bl  ?  subject  of  Caesar.  From  thence  came  that  singular 
mo 'ley  of  immovable  resolution  and  humble  protestations 
which  appears  in  his  correspondence  with  the  C^sars.  How- 
ever, though  he  alwa3's  spoke  and  often  acted  as  a  docile 
subject  of  the  successors  of  Augustus  and  Constantine,  they 
were  not  slow  to  understand  that  they  had  something  else  to 
deal  with  in  this  bishop,  who  was  at  once  the  direct  successor 
of  Peter,  the  patriarch  of  the  entire  West,  and  the  greatest 
proprietor  in  Italy,  and  who  liad  already  occupied  the  place 
of  mediator  between  the  Barbarians  and  the  Empire. 
Protest  ^^®  ^"*^   ^^''*   mixture   of  extreme   humility   and 

H<ininstthe  energetic  resistance  in  another  struggle,  Avhich  the 
in^to  constant  and   natural  ctuicern  of  Gregory   for  the 

ha°i"iioen'^°  rights  and  interests  of  monastic  life  had  h  d  liim  into, 
soldiers.  jj^  i\^q  beginning  of  his  pontificate.  The  Emperor 
Maurice  had  published  an  edict  which  interdicted  public 
functionaries  and  soldiers  from  entering  either  into  the  ranks 
of  the  clergy  or  into  a  monastery.  Gregory  approved  the 
first  clause  of  this  law,  which  interdicted  public  lunctionaries 
from  holding  ecclesiastical  offices  : ''  for,"  said  he,  "  these  peo- 
ple prefer  rather  to  change  their  occupation,  than  to  leave  the 
world." '2  But,  always  a  monk  in  his  heart,  he  protested 
agninst  the  measure  relative  to  monastic  life,  in  a  letter  cele- 
brated for  its  eloquence  and  ability,  and  which  must  not  bo 
omitted  here.  He  begins  by  declaring  that  ho  speaks  not  as 
pope,  but  as  an  individual,  the  obliged  friend  of  the  emperor, 
which  explains  the  humble  character  of  certain  passages  ;  but 
he  soon  rises  to  all  the  loftiness  o^  spiritual  power  and  the 
freedom  of  souls. 

*•  The  man  who  fails  to  be  sincere  in  what  he  says  or  does  to 
CeicbT-itcd  the  serene  emperors '^  is  responsible  towards  God. 
Maurice.       For  mysclf,  the  unworthy  servant  of  your  piety,  I 

"  "  Mutare  saeculum,  non  relinquere."  —  Epist.,  iii.  65. 
'*  He  speaks  in  the  plural,  because  Maurice  had  associated  his  son  Theo- 
dosius  in  the  imperial  power  in  591. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  373 

speak  neither  as  bishop  nor  as  subject,  but  by  the  right 
which  I  find  in  my  heart.''^  For,  serene  lord,  you  were 
my  master  before  you  became  master  of  all,  ...  I  confess  to 
my  masters  that  this  law  has  filled  me  with  terror,  for  it  closes 
the  way  of  heaven  to  many.  .  .  .  There  are  many  who  can 
lead  a  Christian  life  in  the  world.  But  there  are  also  many 
who  cannot  be  saved,  but  by  forsaking  all  things.  .  .  . 

"  And  who  am  I  but  dust  and  a  worm  of  the  earthy,  who 
venture  to  speak  thus  to  my  masters  ?^^  However,  when  I 
see  this  law  interfere  with  God,  the  master  of  the  world,  I 
cannot  keep  silence.  For  this  power  over  the  human  race 
has  been  bestowed  from  on  high  upon  my  masters,  that  they 
might  help  those  who  would  do  well  to  open  up  the  way  to 
heaven,  and  make  the  earthly  kingdom  serve  the  heavenly. 
Yet  here  it  is  Ibrbidden  to  him  who  has  once  been  enrolled 
in  the  terrestrial  army  to  enter,  unless  when  an  invalid  or  in 
retirement,  into  the  service  of  our  Lord.  ...  It  is  thus  that 
Christ  answers  by  me,  the  last  of  his  servants  and  yours:  'I 
have  made  thee,  from  a  secretary,  count  of  the  guards ;  from 
count,  Ccesar  ;  from  Caesar,  emperor  ;  if  that  was  not  enough, 
1  have  made  thee  also  father  of  an  emperor.  I  have  put  m}'' 
priests  under  thy  power,  and  thou  withd rawest  thy  soldiers 
from  my  service  !  ''^'^  Sire,  say  to  your  servant  what  you  can 
answer  to  Him  who,  at  the  day  of  judgment,  shall  speak  to 
you  thus.'^ 

"  Perhaps  it  is  supposed  that  none  of  these  men  are 
truly  converted  ;  but  1,  your  unworthy  servant,  have  known 
many  soldiers  converted  in  my  lifetime,  who  have,  in  the 
monasteries,  given  an  example  of  every  virtue,  and  even 
worked  miracles.  Yet  this  law  interdicts  every  similar  con- 
version. Inquire,  I  beseech  you,  what  emperor  it  was  who 
made  a  similar  law,  and  see  whether  it  becomes  you  to  imitate 
him.^^  And  consider  besides  that  men  would  be  prevented 
from  leaving  the  world  at  a  time  when  the  end  of  the  world 
approaches.  For  the  time  is  not  distant  when,  amidst  the 
burning  of  heaven   and   earth,  in  the  universal   conflagra- 

75  "Neque  ut  episcopus,  neque  ut  servus  jure  reipublic^,  seel  jure  privito 
'oquor." 

'6  II  j]gQ  autem  hsec  dominis  meis  loquens,  quid  sum,  nisi  pulvis  et  ver- 
mis?" 

"  "  Ego  te  de  notario  comitem  excubitorum.  .  .  .  Sacerdotes  meos  tuaa 
inanui  commisi." 

'*  "  Kesponde,  rogo,  piissime  domine,  servo  tuo,  quid  venienti  e  liaec  di- 
centi  responsurus  es  'i  " 

''•  He  says  in  a  subsequent  letter  that  this  was  Julian  tiie  Apostate. 

VOL.  I.  32 


374  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

tion  of  tiie  elements,  surrounded  by  angels  and  archangels, 
thrones,  dominions,  and  powers,  the  terrible  Judge  shall 
appear.  When  he  would  pardon  all  your  sins,  if  he  did  not 
find  this  single  law  directed  against  himself,  what,  I  pra}' 
you,  will  be  your  excuse  ?  I  conjure  you  by  that  terrible 
judge,  not  to  make  your  tears,  your  fasts,  your  many  prayers, 
useless  before  God,  but  to  soften  or  abrogate  this  law,  for  the 
army  of  my  masters  shall  increase  so  much  the  more  against 
the  army  of  the  enemy,  as  the  army  of  God  shall  increase  in 
prayer. 

"In  submission,  however,  to  your  command,  I  have  for- 
warded this  same  law  into  the  different  provinces,  and  be- 
cause it  is  not  in  accordance  with  the  will  of  God  Almighty, 
I  warn  you  of  it  by  this  supplication.  I  have  thus  fulfilled 
ray  duty  on  both  sides  —  have  rendered  obedience  to  the 
emperor,  and  have  not  been  silent  concerning  that  which 
seemed  to  rae  in  opposition  to  God."  ^^ 

Modest  and  humble  as  this  letter  was,  he  did  not  venture 
to  send  it  to  the  emperor  by  his  resident  representative,  but 
confided  it  to  one  of  Maurice's  physicians,  who  was  a  private 
friend  of  his  own,  that  it  might  be  presented  privately,  and 
at  a  favorable  moment.  The  immediate  effect  of  this  protest 
is  not  known,  but  it  was  listened  to,  for  a  subsequent  letter 
of  the  pope  to  the  metropolitans  of  Italy  and  lllyria  enjoins 
them  not  to  receive  soldiers  into  monasteries  till  after  a  three 
3^ears'  novitiate,  and  adds,  that  the  emperor  consented  lo 
these  conditions.^^ 

These  perpetual  contests  with  the  Byzantine  court  may 
explain,  without  excusing,  the  conduct  of  Gregory  at  the 
death  of  the  Emperor  Maurice.  This  prince,  infected,  like 
all  his  predecessors,  with  a  mania  for  interfering  in  ecclesias- 
tical affairs,  and  interfering  with  all  the  weight  of  absolute 
power,  was  very  superior  to  most  of  them.  Gregor}'  him- 
self has  more  than  once  done  justice  to  his  faith  and  piety,  to 
his  zeal  for  the  Church  and  respect  for  her  canons.^^  He  ac- 
knowledged that  in  his  reign  no  heretic  dared  open  his 
mouth.ss  Almost  the  only  thing  with  which  the  emperor 
could  be  reproached,  was  his  avarice.  After  twenty  years 
of  an  undistinguished  reign,  he  unfortunatel}'  abandoned 
twelve  thousand  captives  of  his  army  to  the  s\vord  of  the 
Avars,  who  massacred  the  whole  on  his  refusal  to  ransom 
Ihem.     From  this  circumstance  arose  a  military  revolt,  which 

^°  Epist  ,  iii.  G5.  81  Ibid.,  viii.  5. 

»*  Ibid.,  V.  43,  and  xi.  25.  ^3  ^^^^^^  ^   ^g^ 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  375 

placed   Phocas   upon    the  throne.     This  wretch  not 

only  murdered  the  Emperor  Maurice,  <:;;outy,  and  in-  rol'MlIuifce 

capable  of"  defending  himself,  but  also  his  six  sons,  nat"d|^anci 

whom  he  caused  to  be  put  to  death  under  the  eyes  repiaeed  by 

.   ,  ^  .  ,  •  Phocas. 

of  their  father,  without  even  sparing  the  youngest, 
who  was  still  at  the  breast,  and  whom  his  nurse  would  have 
saved  by  putting  her  own  child  in  his  place  ;  but  Maurice, 
who  would  not  have  his  child  preserved  at  such  a  cost,  dis- 
closed that  pious  deception  to  the  murderers.  He  died  like 
a  Christian  hero,  repeating  the  words  of  the  psalm,  23d  no- 
"  Thou  are  just,  0  Lord,  and  thy  judgment  is  right."  veinbor,c,()2. 
He  had  before  entreated  God  to  expiate  his  sins  by  a  violent 
death  iii  this  world,  that  he  might  be  spared  from  suffering 
in  the  other.  This  massacre  did  not  satisfy  Phocas,  who 
sacrificed  the  empress  and  her  three  daughters,  the  brother 
of  Maurice,  and  a  multitude  of  others  in  his  train.  The  mon- 
ster then  sent  his  own  image  and  that  of  his  wife  to  Rome, 
where  the  senate  and  people  received  them  with  acclamation. 

Gregory  unfortunately  ioined  in   these  mean  ac-   ^ 
clamations.     He   carried   these    images  of  his  new   adiiiarions 
masters,  bathed  in  innocent  blood,  into  the  oratory   ""[able* 
of  the   Lateran  palace.^*     Afterwards  he  addressed  o^Q^p^ory 
extraordinary  congratulations  to  Phocas,  not  in  the   towiuvis 
surprise  of  the  first  moment,  but  seven  months  after 
the  crime.^^     "God,"  said  he,  "  the  sovereign  arbiter  of  the 
life  of  man,  sometimes  raises  up  one  to  punish  the  crimes  of 
many,  as  we   have   experienced   in  our  long   alBiction  ;  and 
sometimes  to   console  the  afflicted  hearts  of  many,  he  raises 
another  whose  mercy  fills  them  with  joy,  as  we  hope  from 
your   piety.     Therefore  we  feel  strengthened   by  the   abun- 
dance of  our  joy,  congratulating  ourselves  that  your  goodness 
has  attained  the  imperial  dignity.     Let  heaven  and  earth  re- 
joi(-e  with  us  !  "  ^'^     He  also  wrote  to  the  new  empress  :  "  No 
tongue  can   express,  nor  mind  conceive,  the  gratitude  which 
we  owe  to  God,  that  your  Serenity  has  attained  the  empire, 
and  that  we  are  delivered  from  the  hard  burden  we  have  so 
long   endured,  and   to  which   has   succeeded  a  gentle  yoke 
which  we  can  bear.     Let  choirs  of  angels  and  voices  of  men 
unite  with  us  to  thank  the  Ci-ea'.or  !  "  ^'^     It  is  true,  that  in 

^*  Joan.  Diac,  iv.  20. 

*'  Epist.,  xiii.  31.     Data  niense  Junii,  indictione  vi. 

^  "  De  qua  exultationis  abundantia  roborari  nos  citius  credimus,  qui 
benignitiitem  vestrse  pietatis  ad  imperiale  fastigium  perveiiisse  gaudeiims. 
LsBtentur  coeli  et  exultet  terra,"  &c.  —  Ibid. 

"  "  Qiue  lingua  loqui,  quis  animus  cogitare  sufficit  quantas  de  screnitato 


376  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

this  same  letter  to  Pliocas,  and  in  a  subsequent  one,  he  points 
out  to  him  the  duties  of  his  charge,  exhorts  hira  to  anaend 
the  errors  of  past  reigns,  and  supplicates  him  so  to  rule,  that 
under  him  all  may  enjoy  their  possessions  and  his  freedom 
in  peace.  "  For,"  siays  he,  "  there  is  this  difference  between 
the  barbarous  kings  and  the  emperors  of  the  republic,  that 
the  former  rule  over  slaves,  and  the  latter  over  free  men."^^ 
This  was  precisely  the  reverse  of  the  truth  :  it  was,  besides, 
a  melancholy  and  guilty  homage  rendered  to  a  man  who  was 
to  become  one  of  the  most  odious  tyrants  of  his  age,  and  who 
ha  J  gained  the  empire  by  a  crime  without  parallel  even  in 
the  annals  of  that  infamous  history. 

This  is  the  only  stain  upon  the  life  of  Gregory.  We  do 
not  attempt  either  to  conceal  or  excuse  it.  It  can  scarcely 
be  explained  by  recalling  all  the  vexations  he  had  suffered 
from  Maurice  and  his  agents,  annoyances  of  which  he  always 
complained  energetically,  though  he  did  not  fail  to  do  justice 
to  the  undeniable  piet}-  of  the  old  eraperor,^^  who,  like  all  his 
predecessors,  imagined  himself  entitled  to  judge  and  direct 
the  affairs  of  the  Cliurch,  but  was  in  no  respect  a  persecutor. 
Perhaps,  too,  Gregory  adopted  this  means  to  secure  the  help 
which  he  implored  from  Phocas  against  the  new  incursions 
of  the  Ijombards,^^  or  to  mollify  beforehand  the  already 
threatening  intentions  of  the  tyrant.^^  We  have  seen  that 
he  mingled  advice  and  indirect  lessons  with  his  congratula- 
tions. It  must  also  be  remembered  that  these  flatteries, 
wdiich  we  find  so  repugnant  from  the  pen  of  our  hol}^  and 
great  pope,  were  in  soine  sort  the  official  language  of  those 
times  ;  they  resulted  from  the  general  debasement  of  public 
manners,  and  from  the  tone  of  the  language  invariably  used 
then  at  each  change  of  reign.  His  motives  were  undoubtedly 
pure.  Notwithstanding,  a  stain  remains  upon  his  memory, 
and  a  shadow  upon  the  history  of  the  Church,  which  is  so 

vestri  imperii  omnipotenti  I>eo  gratias  debemus.  .  .  .  Reddatur  ergo  Crea 
tori  ab  hymnodicis  angelorum  choris  gloria  in  coelo." —  Epist.,  xiii.  39. 

88  44  Ki^foniietur  jam  singulis  sub  jugo  imperii  pii  libertas  sua.  Hoc  nam 
que  inter  reges  gentium  et  imperatores  reipublicae  distat,  quod  reges  .aentium 
domini  servorura  sunt,  imperatores  vero  reipublicae  doniini  liberorum  "  — 
Epist.,  xiii.  31. 

*'^  Compare  Epist.  v.  43,  to  the  patriarchs  of  Alexandria  and  Antioch, 
and  xi.  25,  to  Maximus  of  Salona,  where  he  says  expressly  of  Maurice, 
"  Omnibus  notum  est  piissimos  dominos  disciplinam  servare,  et  in  eausia 
sacerdotalibus  non  miscere." 

*"  Compare  Epist.  xiii.  38. 

^'  "  His  laudibus  novos  principes  demulcebat,  .  .  .  quia  non  eos  ad  tyranr 
nidem  ventures  esse  putabat."  —  Joan.  Diac,  iv.  23. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  377 

i-oiisoling  and  full  of  light  in  this  age  of  storms  and  darkness. 
Bat  among  the  greatest  and  holiest  of  mortals,  virtue,  like 
human  wisdom,  always  falls  short  in  some  respect. 

Gregory,  who  died  sixteen  months  after  the  advent  of 
Phocas,  had  no  time  either  to  expiate  or  repair  tliat  weakness. 
No  doubt  he  would  have  done  it,  if  occasion  had  been  given 
him.  His  life  demonstrated  nothing  more  clearly  contrast 
than  his  boldness  in  presejice  of  dan^-er.  and  his  im-  of  iiiscour- 
movable  perseverance  in  the  pursuit  or  riglit  and  hnbituai 
truth,  whenever  he  perceived  them.  All  his  career  wuh  aifs 
justifies  the  noble  words  which  he  wrote  to  his  '■''ns-iii'g-e. 
ajMcriscu'ius  or  nuncio  at  Constantinople  :  '■  You  ought  to 
know  how  [  feel.  I  who  have  resolved  to  die  rather  than  see 
the  chair  of  St.  Peter  degenerate  in  my  lifetime.  You  know 
my  disposition  ;  I  bear  long,  but  when  I  have  once  resolved 
to  endure  no  longer,  I  face  all  dangers  with  joy."^^  Save  in 
the  deplorable  instance  which  we  have  pointed  out,  he  always 
sliowed  himself  faitliful  to  the  instructions  which  he  gave  to 
an  Illyrian  bisliop  who  lamented  over  the  iniquit}'  of  the  im- 
perial judges  :  "  Your  duty  is  to  resist  for  the  cause  of  the 
poor  and  oppressed.  If  you  do  not  succeed,  God  will  re- 
member the  intention  ;  seek  above  all  things  to  gain  Him 
who  reads  hearts.  As  for  human  terrors  and  favors,  they  are 
but  a  smoke  which  vanishes  before  the  lightest  breath.  Be 
assured  that  it  is  impossible  to  please  God  and  the  wicked  at 
the  same  time :  consider  yourself  most  agreeable  to  God 
when  you  perceive  yourself  odious  to  perverse  men.  How- 
ever, even  in  defending  the  poor,  be  grave  and  mode- 
rate." 93 

But  to  perceive  in  all  their  purity  the  greatness  of  his 
soul  and  the  influence  of  his  genius  upon  the  doctrines  of 
the  Church,  it  is  necessary  to  turn  from  that  Lower  Empire 
which  was  condemned  to  irremediable  decay,  and  where  the 
seeds  of  schism  budded  in  the  bosom  of  abject  servitude. 
Life  and  honor  were  elsewhere.     Gregory  was  aware  of  it. 

"■■'  "Mores  nieos  bene  cognitos  habes,  quia  diu  porto.  Sed,  si  seniol  de- 
liberavero  non  portare,  contra  pericula  laetus  vado."  —  Epist.,  iv.  AT.  The 
point  in  question  was  the  att'air  of  Maxinms  of  Salona :  the  letter  is  ad- 
dressed to  Sabinian,  who  was  afterwards  his  successor. 

*'  '•Fralernitas  tua  opponere  se  pro  pauperibus,  pro  oppressis  debet.  In 
omni  quod  agis  inspectoreni  cordis  appete  habere  placaluni.  .  .  .  Nam  hu- 
mani  terrores  et  gratia  funio  sunt  similes,  qui  leni  aura  raptus  evaneseit. 
Hoc  certissime  scito  quod  placere  Deo  sine  pravis  honiinibus  displicere  nul- 
lus  potest.  .  .  .  Ipsa  tamen  defensio  pauperum  nioderata  et  gravir,  sit."  — 
Epist.,  X.  35. 

32* 


378  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

Greoory  ^^   ^''^  ^'^^    Content  himself  with  the  imposing 

turns  position  of   defender  of  Rome,    protector  of   Italy. 

thouew  and  mediator  between  the  Greeks  and  Lombards, 
race*.  ^^  ^j^  more.     In   turning;  towards   the  Germanic 

nations,  he  showed  the  way  by  which  the  Roman  Church,  and 
will:  her  the  mind  and  future  fate  of  the  West,  could  be  eman- 
cipated from  the  dislionoring  yoke  of  Byzantium. 

The  Roman  empire  existed  no  longer  in  its  first  form. 
That  climax  of  disgrace  had  come  to  an  end.  The  civilized 
world  was  escaping  from  that  absolute  dominion  exercised 
by  monsters  or  adventurers,  which  has  been  admired  in  our 
own  days  by  some  base  souls  worthy  of  having  lived  under 
Caracalla  or  Arcadius.  The  human  race  had  at  last  per- 
ceived its  own  shame.  The  yoke  of  a  free  nation,  how- 
ever cruel  and  iniquitous,  may  be  borne  without  blushing; 
but  to  obey  a  nation  itself  enslaved  by  the  most  repellent 
despotism,  is  to  ask  too  much  of  human  baseness.  The 
whole  world  was  then  in  insurrection  against  Rome,  and  the 
insurrection  had  everywhere  triumphed. 

It  was  necessary  that  the  victorious  Barbarians,  and  those 
countries  which  had  been  revivified  by  the  rude  experience 
of  conquest,  should  be  kept  from  identifying  in  a  common 
reprobation  the  odious  phantom  of  old  imperial  Rome,  and 
that  young  Church,  the  sovereign  see  of  which  God,  by  a 
secret  miracle  of  his  providence,  had  established  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  empire  which  had  persecuted  her  so  cruelly, 
which  she  had  in  vain  attempted  to  regenerate  after  having 
converted  it,  but  which  she  was  shortly  to  eclipse  and  replace 
in  the  world.  It  was  necessary  to  keep  Constantinople  from 
imagining  itself  the  heir  of  Rome,  and  planting  its  degrad- 
ing and  egotistical  dominion  beside  the  protecting,  and  up 
to  this  time  irreproachable,  authority  of  the  popes.  The 
Fr  inks,  the  Visigoths,  the  Lombards,  and  the  Anglo-Saxons, 
entered  on  the  scene  ;  they  inaugurated  the  destiny  of  races 
which,  after  the  course  of  tliirteen  centuries,  are  still  at  the 
head  of  humanity;  they  would  willingly  bow  their  youthful 
and  unsubdued  force  before  the  pure  and  new-born  majes^ 
ty  of  the  Church,  but  not  before  the  decrepid  servitude  of 
the  Byzantine  empire, 

Gregory  was  the  man  predestined  to  the  salutary  and 
decisive  work  of  transition.  The  spiritual  and  temporal  in- 
dependence of  the  West  manifested  itself  in  him.  He  was 
the  first  pope  who  paid  special  attention  to  the  Western 
races,  and  associated  himself,  by  directing  it,  with  the  prog- 


ST.  GREGORY  TPIE  GREAT.  379 

ress  of  the    GerniaQ    conquerors.     He  was    their  He  makes 

friend,  their  educator,  and  their  master.     To  assimi-  Germanic 

late   them  to   the  Churcli,  to  adapt  her  to  their  in-  "ho'emVnd. 

stincts  and  reason,  without  corapromisinff  the  tradi-  r,"'*'''" ''*'  . 

,'  .  '^         .  P      .  tlie  Church 

tional  element  and  sovereign  authority,  the  imraova-  and  the 
b!e  centre  of  which  was  to  remain  standing  in  the   theByza™ 
midst  of  desolated  Rome,  nothing  less  would  suffice   t'leyoke. 
than  the  tender  and  patient  genius  of  Gregory  and  his  suc- 
cessors. 

Long  crushed  between  the  Lombards  and  Byzantines, 
between  the  unsoftened  ferocity  of  the  Barbarians  and  the 
vexatious  decrepitude  of  despotism.  Gregory,  with  that 
instinctive  perception  of  future  events  which  God  some- 
times grants  to  pure  souls,  sought  elsewhere  a  support  for 
the  Roman  Church.  His  eyes  were  directed  to  the  new 
races,  who  were  scarcely  less  ferocious  than  the  Lombards, 
but  who  did  not,  like  them,  w-eigh  upon  Italy  and  Rome,  and 
who  already  exhibited  elements  of  strength  and  continuance. 

The  West  separated  itself  more  and  more  from  the  East.^ 
The  patriarch  of  Constantinople,  despite  the  proud  titles 
with  which  he  concealed  his  servitude,  gradually  fell  into 
the  first  rank  of  the  imperial  household.  The  patriarchs  of 
Antioch,  Alexandria,  and  Jerusalem,  were  about  to  be  swept 
away  by  Islamism.  Rome  alone  remained  standing.  Inces- 
santly insulted,  but  not  yet  enslaved.  Africa  and  Illyria, 
which  were  still  attached  to  the  patriarchate  of  the  West,  of 
which  Rome  was  the  see,  were  soon  to  fall,  one  under  the 
sword  of  the  Arabs,  the  other  to  identify  itself  with  the 
domains  of  the  Ccesar  of  Constantinople.  But  the  great 
churches  of  the  new  northern  kingdom  could  make  up,  and 
more  than  make  up,  for  that  loss. 

The  rupture  of  all  political  ties  between  the  Roman  empire 
and  Gaul,  Spain,  and  Britain,  had  naturally  loosened  the 
links  which  attached  the  Churches  of  the^ce  countries  to  Rome. 
To  renew  these  links,  and  to  preserve  the  Church  from  sink- 
ing under  the  feudal  institutions  which  were  to  prevail  in 
the  new  order  of  social  affairs,  the  best  thing  that  could  be 
done  was  to  form  alliances  with  the  Germanic  races  which 
had  replaced  Roman  dominion.  Gregory  took  that  glorious 
and  salutary  initiative.  We  shall  see  further  on  what  he 
did  for  Spain  and  Great  Britain.  Let  us  first  ex-  jjjgj.gjj,. 
hibit  his  choice  of  Gaul,  the  Church  and  kingdom  tions  with 
of  the  Franks,  to  become  the  nucleus  of  the   great 

"^  Lac,  op.  cit.,  pp.  179  and  189. 


380  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

Germanic  Christendom.  He  thus  attached  to  himself  the 
only  nation  among  the  Barbarians  which,  while  Arianism 
prevailed  everj^where,  remained  orthodox.  He  founded  the 
alliance  which,  two  centuries  after,  finally  freed  the  Holy  See 
from  every  foreign  yoke,  from  Byzantine  dominion,  as  well 
as  from  the  violence  of  the  Lombards. 

It  does  not  appear  that  he  called  the  Franks  to  the  help  of 
Italy  agg,inst  the  Lombards,  like  his  predecessor,  Pelagius 
II. ;  they  had  come  already,  and  three  Frank  invasions  ^^  had 
produced  only  an  increase  of  calamity  to  the  inhabitants  of 
the  northern  part  of  the  peninsula.  He  took  another  way, 
and  entered,  in  the  first  place,  into  the  closest  relations  with 
the  Church  of  Gaul,  on  account  of  lands  which  the  Roman 
Church  possessed  in  Provence,  and  which  had  been  long 
deserted,  like  all  the  other  vast  territories  which  already 
„,.         ,      constituted   the   patrimony  of  St.  Peter.     A   holy 

The  monk  /.       ,  •    i  i^    t        •  vr-        -i-  i 

viigiiius      monk  oi    tlie    isle  or    Lerins,   Virgihus,  was    tlien 
bishop    of    Aries,  and    metropolitan    of  Provence. 
Gregory   gave   him   the    pallium,  without   prejudice  to    the 
rights  of  the   metropolitan,  and  made  him  his  vicar 
'     '      in  the   domains  of  King   Ciiildebert,  enjoining  him 
specially  to  devote    himself  to   the  work  of  rooting  out  the 
radical  vices  of  the    Gallo-Frank  Church,  which  was  simony, 
Letters  of     '^^'^  *^^®  election  of  laymen  to  bishoprics.^'^     He  took 
Gregory  to    occasiou  from  this  to  address  himself  directly  to  the 
and  Brune-    youug  king,   Childebcrt  II.,  who    reigned  in   Bur- 
haut.  gundy  and    Austrasia,   and  to  his  mother   Brune- 

haut,  as  much  to  recommend  Virgilius  to  their  suppoi't  in 
the  execution  of  the  apostolical  decrees,  as  to  ask  their  pro- 
tection for  the  priest  Candidus,  whom  he  had  charged  with 
the  administration  of  the  pontifical  possessions  in  Gaul.  It 
is  in  one  of  these  letters  to  Brunehaut  that  we  find,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  education  which  she  had  given  to  her  descend- 
ants, and  other  virtues  supposed  to  belong  to  her,  those 
emphatic  compliments  with  which  he  has  been  so  often 
reproached,  and  which  agree  so  little  with  all  that  we  know  of 
the  life  of  that  too  notorious  princess.  But  it  cannot  be 
denied,  that  along  with  these  praises,  borrowed  from  the 
adulatory  style  of  the  Byzantine  court,  the  forms  of  which  he 
had  too  much  accustomed  himself  to  imitate,  Gregory  ad- 
dressed to  the  young  king  Childebert  the  noblest  language 
which  had  ever  been  addressed  by  a  pontiff  to  a  king.  He 
began,  in  the  words  which  follow,  to  make  audible  that  great 

^*  In  580,  589,  and  590.  »«  Epist.,  iv.  50. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  381 

papal  voice  which,  for  a  thousand  years,  was  to  be  the 
supreme  organ  of  justice  and  humanity  to  princes  and 
nations:  — "  As  much  as  the  royal  dignity  is  above  common 
men,  your  throne  elevates  you  above  the  other  thrones  of 
nations.  It  is  a  small  thing  to  be  a  king  when  others  are  so, 
but  it  is  a  great  thing  to  be  a  Catholic,  when  others  do 
not  share  the  same  honor.  As  a  great  lamp  shines  with  all 
the  brilliancy  of  its  light  in  the  deepest  darkness  of  night,  so 
the  splendor  of  your  faith  shines  amid  the  voluntary  obscurity 
of  other  nations.  ...  In  order,  then,  to  surpass  other  men  in 
works  as  well  as  in  faith,  let  not  your  Excellency  cease  to 
show  yourself  merciful  to  your  subjects.  If  there  are  things 
which  offend  you,  punish  none  without  discussion.  You  shall 
please  the  King  of  kings  best  when,  restraining  your  author- 
ity, you  believe  3"ourself  to  have  less  privilege  than  power."  ^^ 

After  the  premature  death  of  Childebert   II.  in      ^tinued 
596,  and  during  the  minority  of  his  heirs,  Brunehaut,  intercourse 
who  was  regent  of  his  two  kingdoms,  the  east  and   Jregory 
south-east  of  Gaul,  continued  an  increasingly  close  ^"ut^""*^"^ 
and  frequent  intercourse  with  Gregory.     She  asked 
the  pallium  for  the  Bishop  of  Autun,  and  he  accorded  that 
envied  distinction  to  the  Burgundiau  prelate,  only  while  in- 
sisting anew  upon  the  necessity  of  extirpating  simony,  de- 
stroying the  remnants  of  idolatry,  which  still  mingled  with 
the  Christianity  of  the  Franks  and  Burgondes,  reforming  the 
scandalous  life  of  some  priests  who  lived  with  women,  and, 
lastly,  putting  an  end  to  that  invasion  of  unprepared  laymen 
into  the  priesthood,  and  even  into  the  episcopate,  which  he 
energetically  called  the  heresy  of  neophytes. ^^ 

He  sent  to  her,  in  the  quality  of  legate,  and  in  order  to 
hold  a  council  for  the  cure  of  these  irregularities,  Cyriac,  the 
abbot  of  his  own  monastery  of  St.  Andrea  at  Rome.  This 
council  was  never  assembled  ;  but  Brunehaut,  and  her  grand- 
son Thierry,  king  of  Burgundy,  sent  an  embassy  to  Gregory 
in  602,  to  negotiate,  by  his  mediation,  a  treaty  of  alliance, 
offensive  and  defensive,  with  the  Byzantine  emperor,  against 
the  Avars,  who  threatened  the  empire  and  the  Frank  king- 
doms equally.  The  political  and  social  part  played  by  the 
Papacy  developed  itself  thus  gradually  and  naturally  under 

"  "  Si  qua  sunt  quae  ejus  animum  ofFendere  valeant,  ea  indiscussa  non 
sinat.  Tunc  enim  vere  Regi  regum  .  .  .  amplius  placebit,  si,  potestatem 
suam  restringens,  minus  sibi  crediderit  licere  quam  potest."  —  Epist.,  vi.  6. 
Do  not  these  words  anticipate  the  fine  maxim  of  our  old  jurisconsult  Bidin 
"Universal  power  does  not  give  universal  right"? 

»«  Epist.,  vii.  5.     Compare  x.  33,  xi.  63,  69. 


382  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

tho  pontificate  of  tlie  first  monk  who  had  occupied  the  chai? 
of  St.  Peter.  The  murder  of  Maurice,  it  is  true,  prevented 
the  success  of  this  negotiation  :  but  the  Burgundian  ambassa- 
dor was  charged,  besides,  to  obtain  from  the  pope  the  con- 
firmation of  two  monasteries  and  a  hospital,  which  Brunohaut 
had  founded  at  Autun.^^ 

Charter  of  It  was  theu,  and  at  the  express  request  of  the 
whichpro  Frankish  crown,  that  Gregory  issued  that  famous 
ciiiinistiie     charter,  in  which,  for  the  first  time,  the  direct  sub- 

teniponil  ,.;  p   ,  ^  ••i-ii 

supremacy  orciination  ot  temporal  power  to  spiritual  is  clearly 
plicvover  ^et  forth  and  recognized.  The  inviolability  of  per- 
tho  Crown,  ^^^^j^  ^^^^  property,  and  the  electoral  freedom  of  the 
three  new  monastic  communities  of  Autiin,  were  placed  under 
the  safeguard  of  papal  authority,  and  of  a  penalty  which  is 
thus  declared  :  "  If  any  king,  bishop,  judge,  or  other  secular 
person,  knowing  this  constitution,  shall  venture  to  infringe 
it,  let  him  be  deprived  of  the  dignity  of  his  power  and  honor, 
and  let  him  know  that  he  has  rendered  himself  guilty  before 
the  tribunal  of  God.  And  if  he  does  not  restore  that  which 
he  has  wickedly  taken  away,  or  lament  with  fit  penitence  the 
unlawful  acts  he  has  done,  let  him  be  debarred  from  the  holy 
body  and  blood  of  our  God  and  Saviour,  and  remain  subject 
in  the  eternal  judgment  to  a  severe  retribution."  ^^'^ 

Thus  the  hand  of  the  Church  began  to  write,  but  with  the 
consent  of  the  elective  and  limited  royalty  of  conquering 
races,  that  new  law  of  the  West  which,  five  centuries  later 
than  the  monk  Gregory  1.,  was  to  be  appealed  to  and  applied 
in  its  full  extent  by  the  monk  Gregory  YIT.  and  his  succes- 
sors.  Nothing  can  better  depict  the  difference  of  sentiment 
and  attitude  displayed  by  the  Papac}'  towards  the  kings  of 
the  Germanic  nations  and  the  Byzantine  emperors,  than  the 
contrast  between  this  document  and  the  almost  passive  obe- 

'*  Tlie  one  for  women,  dedicated  to  our  Lady  and  St.  John ;  the  other  for 
men,  dedicated  to  St.  Martin  :  the  hospital  in  lionor  of  St.  Andochius  was  also 
a  monastery  for  monks. 

'*'*'  "  Si  quis  vcro  regum,  sacerdotum,  judicum,  personarumqne  secularium 
banc  constitutionis  nostras  paginam  agnoscens,  contra  earn  venire  tentaverit, 
potestatis  honorisque  sui  dignitate  careat  reumque  se  divino  judicio  de  per- 
petrata  iniquitate  cognoseat.  Et  nisi  vel  ea  quffi  ab  illo  male  ablata  sunt  res- 
tituerit,  vel  digna  poenitentia  illicite  acta  delleverit,  a  sacratissimo  corpore  ac 
sanguine  Dei  et  Domini  nostri  Rcdemptoris  J.  C.  alienus  fiat  atque  in  aeterno 
examine  districtas  ultioni  subjaceat." — Epist.,  xiii.  8,  9,  10.  Oudin  and 
Launoy  have  disputed  the  authenticity  of  this  clause,  but  it  has  been  put  be- 
yond a  doubt  by  Mabillon  and  the  Benedictine  editors  of  St.  Gregory  the 
Great.  Tliere  are  three  similar  charters  for  the  throe  monasteries.  Yepes 
gives  a  fourth,  not  unlike  them  in  the  main,  in  favor  of  tlie  monastery  of  St 
Medard,  at  Soissons,  but  it  is  unanimously  regarded  as  false. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  383 

dience  which  St.  Gregory  professed  to  the  iruperial  court, 
even  in  his  most  energetic  protests  against  certain  of  its 
acts.  And  nothing  contradicts  more  entirely  the  chimerical 
distinction  between  the  Roman  emperors  and  the  Barbarian 
kings,  which  he  attempts  to  establish  in  his  letter  to  Phocas. 

Gregory  did  not  confine  himself  to  these  relations  with  the 
princes  and  bishops  of  Anstrasia  and  Burgundy.  He  wrote 
to  Clotharius  IT.,  king  of  Neustria,  and  to  the  principal 
bishops  of  that  portion  of  Gaul,  recommending  them  to  under- 
take the  work  of  converting  the  Anglo-Saxons,  the  object  of 
h  s  special  predilection,  which  he  had  never  lost  sight  of  amid 
the  most  sei'ious  troubles,  and  in  which  Brunehaut  co-oper- 
ated zealously.  On  this  account  he  also  entered  in-  Rpiations 
to  correspondence  with  the  principal  bishops  of  the  bTsiiops^of 
north  and  Avest  of  Gaul :  he  enjoined  them,  as  he  had  Neustria. 
urged  the  bishops  of  Burgundy  and  Austrasia,  with  the  most 
earnest  entreaties,  to  combat  tlie  various  ecclesiastical  abuses, 
unlawful  ordinations,  and  especially  simon}^  which  he  every- 
where calls  heresy,  and  which  made  frightful  progress  every 
day,  disguising  itself  under  a  thousand  different  forms,  in- 
fecting already  all  the  grades  of  the  ecclesiastical  hierarchy 
in  all  Christian  countries,  and  threatening  to  consume  like  a 
cancer  the  vigor  and  beauty  of  the  Church,  thanks  to  the 
connivance  and  complicity  of  too  many  bishops. ^"^^ 

In  all  his  relations  with  the  bishops,  not  only  of  His  respect 
Gaul,  but  of  entire  Christendom,  he  always  mani-  Episco- 
fested  the  affectionate  respect  with  which  the  epis-  p-'^*''- 
copal  character  and  form  inspired  him,  and  which  he  had  so 
sloo^uently  expressed  in  the  contest  touching  the  title  of 
universal  patriarch.  "  God  forbid,"  he  wrote,  '•  that  I  should 
desire  to  infringe  the  decrees  of  our  ancestors  in  an}'  Church, 
to  the  prejudice  of  my  colleagues  in  the  priesthood  ;  for  I 
should  thus  injure  myself  by  interfering  with  the  rights  of 
my  brethren."  And,  elsewhere,  "  Receive  this  as  certain  in 
matters  of  ecclesiastical  privilege,  that  we  will  preserve  its 
rights  to  each  individual  Church,  as  we  defend  our  own.  .  .  . 
I  desire  to  honor  by  every  means  my  brethren  in  the  episco- 
pate." ^^^     At  the  same  time  he  gave  to  the  jurisdiction  of 

^*"  "  Has  pestiferas  hasreses  cernens  per  sacerdotura  conniventiam  sive 
taciturnitatem  magis  magisque  difFusis  muneribus  raasi  pestifer  cancer  .  .  . 
corrodere  .  .  .  ac  corrurapere." — Joan.  Diac,    V'it.  S.  Greg.,  iii.  4. 

loa  "  Mihi  injuriara  facio,  si  patrum  meorum  ;ura  perturbo."  —  Epist.Ai. 
25.  "  Sicut  nostra  defendimus,  ita  singulis  quibusque  Ecclesiis  sua  jura 
servamus.  .  .  .  Fratres  itieos  per  omnia  honorare  cupio."  —  Epist.,  ii.  47 
Compare  i.  23,  iii.  29. 


384  ST.  GEEGORY  THE  GREAT. 

the  Holy  See  a  range  and  authority  whicli  had  never  been 
better  established.  He  extended  it  even  to  Jerusalem,  and 
beyond  the  extremities  of  the  Roman  world,  to  Ireland  and 
Iberia.  He  replied  to  applications  for  advice  from  Caucasus^ 
and  encouraged  the  attempts  made  to  convert  Persia.  Ha 
reduced  to  due  limits  the  power  of  the  metropolitans,  who 
seemed  disposed  to  assume  an  authority  superior  to  that  of  the 
other  bishops,  and  independent  of  the  Holy  See  ;  he  settled 
that  none  of  them  should  be  ordained  without  the  confirma- 
tion of  the  pope.  His  struggles  with  the  metropolitans  of 
Cagliari,  of  Ravenna,  and,  above  all,  of  Salona,  were  among 
the  greatest  trials  of  his  pontificate  ;  but  he  overcame  al. 
resistance.  His  vigilant  eye  and  eloquent  voice  everywhere 
stimulated  the  re-establishment  and  exact  observance  of  the 
And  for  cauons,  and  especially  the  freedom  of  episcopal  elec- 
freedomof  tious,  which  Were  then  in  the  hands  of  the  clergy 
and  people  of  each  diocese.  Very  urgent  motives? 
were  necessary  to  induce  him  to  limit  that  liberty,  or  even 
indirectly  to  interfere  in  that  choice.  During  the  vacancy 
of  the  see  of  Milan,  when  it  was  announced  to  him  that  one 
of  his  most  intimate  friends  would  be  elected,  he  answered, 
"I  have  long  resolved  never  to  meddle,  for  the  advantage  of 
any  one  whatsoever,  in  the  collation  of  spiritual  charges  ;  I 
shall  confine  myself  to  following  with  my  prayers  the  elec- 
tion which  you  are  about  to  make,  in  order  that  God  may 
grant  you  a  pastor  who  will  lead  you  in  the  pastures  of  the 
divine  word."  ^^^ 

Hi8vi<^i-  -^^^^  ^^^  ^^^^  ^®  ^^'^^  disposed  to  interfere  in  the 

lant  solid-  designation  of  thoso  elected,  the  more  he  required 
theobser-  that  they  should  rigidly  fulfil  the  conditions  of  ca- 
oanonicai  uonical  laws.^^  He  did  not  simply  refuse  to  recog- 
laws.  i-)i2;e  a  pcrsou  elected   contrary  to  the   canons ;  he 

excluded  him  from  all  ecclesiastical  dignities,  and  sometimes 
went  so  far  as  to  subject  him  to  a  penitentiary  detention  in 
some  monastery,  in  company  with  the  bishops  who  had  con- 
secrated him.io^  He  did  not  hesitate  to  depose  the  bishops 
who  showed  themselves  unworthy  of  their  charge. ^^^  Upon 
those  whom  he  judged  worthy  he  exercised  an  attentive  and 
indefatigable  watchfulness,  to  constrain  them  to  residence, 

103  u  Quia  antiquae  me.is  deliberationis  intentio  est  ad  suscipienda  pasioraii* 
curae  onera  pro  nullius  unquam  luisceri  persona,  orationibus  prosequor  elec- 
tionem  vestrara."  —  Episi.,  iii.  29. 

*"*  Lau.,  op.  cit.,  p.  115. 

'°*  Epist.,  xiii.  45. 

>o6  Yov  example,  Demetrius,  bishop  of  Naples. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  385 

to  pab^toral  visits,  and  to  that  great  art  of  preachinjj^  which  he 
himself  practised  with  so  much  eloquence  and  assiduity  even 
amid  the  harassments  of  the  supreme  pontificate.  He  recom- 
mended them  to  m;tke  their  internal  life  in  harmony  with  the 
external  solemnity  of  their  functions  and  pious  demonstra- 
tions;  for,  said  he,  pra^'er  is  vain  if  conduct  is  evW}^''  He 
♦vas  not  content  with  regular  morals  and  irreproachable  faith  ; 
he  would  have  them  besides  sufficiently  endowed  with  en- 
ergy and  capacity;  for,  "in  our  times,"  he  said,  "we  must 
confide  power  into  the  hands  of  those  who  will  not  be  solely 
engrossed  by  the  salvation  of  souls,  but  will  also  be  mindful 
of  the  defence  and  temporal  interests  of  their  inferiors."  ^^^ 
His  truly  paternal  uuthorit}^  disdained  puerile  and  trouble- 
some homage.  He  turned  away  with  repugnance  from  the 
exaggerated  demonstrations  of  respect  towards  himself  in 
which  certain  bishops  took  pleasure.  "  I  love  not,"  he  said, 
''these  vain  and  foolish  exaggerations."  ^^^  He  fixed  for 
every  five  years,  instead  oC  every  three,  the  term  of  the  peri- 
odical and  obligatory  visit  of  the  bishops  to  Rome.  The 
priests  and  all  the  oiders  of  the  ecclesiastical  hierarchy  were 
objects  of  the  same  solicitude  and  severe  vigilance. 

His  vast  correspondence  testifies  at  once  to  the  Hiscorre- 
unwearied  activity  of  his  administration,  his  ardent  spo^dence. 
zeal  for  justice  and  discipline,  and  the  increasing  develop- 
ment of  questions  of  canonical  law  and  discipline  which  b(?- 
gan  to  replace,  especially  in  the  West,  the  dogmatic  questions 
which  had  been  sufficiently  elaborated  in  the  five  general 
councils  held  up  to  that  time. 

Those   argus    eyes    which    incessantly    superin-  order  re- 
tended  the  Christian  world  ^^^  did   not  pass  over  the   f^*;\^J,'^'j^^* 
vast  domains  of  the  Church  which,  under  the  name   rimonyof 
of  the  patrimony  of  St.  Peter,  were  already  formed, 
not  only  in  Gaul,  as   has  been  already  seen,  but  in  Africa,, 
Corsica,  Dalmatia,  Sicily,  and  especially  in  the  south  of  Italy. 
Before  Gregory,  negligence    and    confusion  reigned  every- 
v^  here  in  these  lands.     He  neglected  no  means  of  re-estab- 
lishing order  and   restoring   them   to  their  just  value.     His 
letters  show  that  he  considered  no  detail  beneath  him  to  at- 

'"''  "Nam  inauis  fit  oratio,  ubi  prava  est  actio."  —  Upist  ,  xi.  51,  to  the 
bishops  of  Sicily. 

108  t.  Xalis  hoc  tempore  in  arce  regiminis  .  .  .  qui  .  .  .  de  extrinseca 
subjectorura  utilitate  et  cautela  sciat  esse  soUicitus."  —  Upist.,  x.  62. 

'"'  "  Quia  vana  et  stulta  superfluitas  non  delectat."  —  Epist.,  i.  .S6. 

no  ('Velut  argus  quidera  luminosissimus  per  totius  mundi  latitudinem 
.  .  .  oculos  eircuQitulcrit." — Joan.  Diac,  ii.  55. 

VOL.  I.  33 


386  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

tain  that  end,  and  that  it  was  his  special  endeavor  to  rule 
them  with  the  most  exact  justice.  The  spirit  of  the  disciple 
of  St.  Benedict,  the  monk  who,  careful,  attentive,  and  just, 
appreciated  so  highly  the  rights  of  labor,  is  evident  at  every 
step.  He  wrote  to  Peter,  the  administrator  of  the  Roman 
Church  in  Sicily,  that  letter  which  deserves  to  be  inscribed 
by  the  side  of  the  noblest  titles  of  the  papacy :  "  We  under- 
stand that  the  price  paid  for  corn  to  the  peasant  subjects  of 
the  Church  is  lowered  in  times  of  abundance  ;  we  desire  that 
they  shall  always  be  paid  according  to  the  current  price.  .  .  . 
We  forbid  that  the  farmers  shall  pay  more  than  the  rate  fixed 
in  their  lease ;  and  we  shall  withdraw  all  the  disgraceful  ex- 
actions which  shall  exceed  the  sums  prescribed  in  proportion 
to  their  ability.  And  in  order  that  no  one  after  our  death 
may  be  able  to  impose  these  burdens  anew,  let  them  be  in- 
vested in  their  lands  by  a  written  form  which  shall  state  the 
sum  which  each  one  has  to  pa3^  .  .  .  We  would  not  have  the 
coffers  of  the  Church  soiled  with  sordid  gains."  ^^^ 

The  devoted  friend  of  the  peasants,  who  had 
tectsthp  scarcel}'  escaped  from  the  deadly  pressure  of  Roman 
peasau  s.  taxation  when  they  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Bar- 
barian conquerors,  less  skilfully  rapacious  but  more  brutal, 
he  especially  employed  his  power  in  reducing  their  burdens, 
guaranteeing  the  freedom  of  their  marriages,  the  security  of 
their  possessions,  and  the  inviolability  of  their  inheritances. 
He  placed  at  the  head  of  his  domains,  in  each  province,  no 
longer  laymen,  but  ecclesiastics  imbued  with  his  own  spirit, 
from  whom  he  exacted  a  promise  before  the  tomb  of  St.  Peter, 
that  they  would  manage  the  patrimony  of  the  Church  as  the 
treasury  of  laborers  and  the  poor.  He  extended  this  solici- 
tude even  beyond  the  limits  of  his  own  possessions  ;  and  it  is 
pleasant  to  see  the  head  of  the  universal  Church  turn  from 
his  struggles  with  Byzantium  and  the  Lombards  to  take  in. 
hand  tlie  interests  of  some  obscure  husbandmen  of  the  island 
of  Sardinia.  *'  I  have  learned,"  he  wrote  to  the  bishop  of 
Cagliari,  "  that  certain  laymen,  charged  with  the  administra- 
tion of  your  patrimony,  have  committed  depredations  to  the 
detriment  of  your  peasants,  and  refused  to  render  an  account : 

"*  '•  Quia  nos  sacculum  Ecclesiasex  lucris  turpibus  nolunius  inqainari."  — 
Epist.,  i.  44.  Compare  ii.  32.  In  the  last  we  find  this  often-quoted  passage^ 
wliich  indicates  at  once  the  simplicity  and  modesty  of  the  great  man  :  — 
"  You  have  sent  me  a  bad  horse  and  five  good  asses.  I  cannot  mount  the 
horse  because  it  is  bad,  nor  the  asses  because  they  are  asses;  if  you  would 
help  to  support  us,  send  us  things  wliich  are  suitable  to  us.''  The  ecclesiastical 
domains  in  Sicilv  maintained  four  hundred  stallions. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  387 

it  becomes  you,  after  having  exauiined  into  this  with  the 
utmost  rigor,  to  decide,  according  to  the  justice  of  the  case, 
between  your  peasants  and  these  men,  in  order  to  make  thera 
if  possible  disgorge  their  prey."  ^^'^ 

He  was  everywhere  the  man  of  justice  and  freedom.  It 
was  not  alone  the  interests  of  the  Cliurch,  its  possessions  and 
vassals,  which  inspired  his  zeal.  He  endeavored  to  defend 
the  rights  and  liberty  of  all,  by  the  influence  of  his  The  tree- 
spiritual  authority  and  the  freedom  of  his  pontifical  "^™- 
language,  against  the  exactions,  the  arbitrary  violence,  and 
cruelty  of  the  imperial  magistrates  ;  ^^^  and,  addressing  him- 
self to  the  ex-consul  Leontius,  the  envoy  of  the  Emperor 
Maurice,  he  sat  down  this  great  principle  of  Christian  policy, 
always  ignored,  but  always  undeniable  :  "You  should  watch 
over  the  liberty  of  those  whom  you  judge  as  over  your  own; 
and  if  you  would  hinder  your  superiors  from  trampling  your 
freedom  under  foot,  know  how  to  honor  and  guard  that  of 
your  inferiors."  ^1*^ 

All  who  were  oppressed,  all  the  victims  of  power 
or  wickedness,  found  in  him  a  champion.^^^  He  in- 
terfered indignantly  concerning  "  the  atrocious  and  unheard- 
of  crime  "  committed  by  a  vassal  of  the  diocese  of  Messina, 
in  carrying  away  his  godson's  young  wife  to  sell  her  to 
another:  and  threatened  with  canonical  punishment  not  the 
guilty  person  only,  but  the  bishop  of  the  diocese  who  left 
such  attempts  unpunished. ^^^ 

It  might  be  said  that  he  anticipated  the  abolition  of  slavery 
in  this  preamble  to  an  act  of  enfranchisement.  "  ISince  the 
Redeemer  and  Creator  of  the  world  made  himself  incarnate 
in  the  form  of  humanity,  in  order  to  break  the  chain  of  our 
slavery  by  the  grace  of  freedom,  and  to  restore  us  to  our 
pristine  liberty,  it  is  well  and  wise  to  restore  the  benefit  of 
original  liberty  to  men  whom  nature  has  made  free,  and 
whom  the  laws  of  men  have  bowed  under  the  yoke  of  servi- 
tude.    For  this  reason  we  make  you,  Montanus  and  Thomas, 

"*  "In  rustieorum  vestrorura  depraedationibus  .  .  .  deprehensi.  .  .  . 
Convenit  inter  eos  Eoclesiaeque  vestrae  rustieos  causam  examinari  subtilius." 
—  Episi.,  ix.  65. 

"^  •' Libertatera  uniuscujusque  liominis  contra  judicuni  insolentias  liberis 
vocibus  defendebat  .  .  .  cunctorum  judicum  cupiditates  vel  scelera  quasi 
cuneo  frenoque  pontificii  sui  .  .  .  restringebat."  —  Joan.  Diac,  ii.  47,  48. 

■'■'  "  Libertatem  eorum  .  .  .  ut  vestram  specialiter  attendere  debetis  .  .  . 
subjectoruni  vestrorum  honorando  libertatem  custodite." —  Epist.,  x.  51. 

lis  ..  Ab  arlversis  potestatibus  prsegravatos  fortissimus  miles  ChrisliGrego 
rius  viriliter  defendebat."  — Joan.  1)iac.,  iv.  21. 

"8  Episi.,  vi.  13. 


388  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

servants  of  the  holy  Roman  Church,  which  we  alfio  serve 
with  the  help  of  God,  free  from  this  da}^,  and  Roman  citizens, 
and  we  make  over  to  you  all  your  stock  of  money."  ^i"  Even 
in  his  theological  expositions,  in  his  commentaries  on  Job, 
this  imag-e  of  slavery  still  pursues  him  :  "  The  penitent  sin- 
ner here  below,"  says  he,  "  is  like  a  slave  who  has  fled  from 
his  master,  but  who  is  not  yet  free  :  he  has  deserted  his  sina 
by  contrition,  but  he  must  still  fear  the  chastisement.  He 
will  be  truly  enfranchised,  truly  free,  only  in  heaven,  where 
he  can  no  longer  doubt  his  pardon,  where  he  shall  lose  even 
the  recollection  of  liis  fault,  and  where  he  shall  taste  the 
serenity  and  joy  of  freedom."  ^^^ 

Until  this  terrible  stain  of  slavery  could  be  entirely  effaced 
in  the  full  light  of  Christianity,  Gregory  ordained  that  every 
})agan  or  Jewish  slave  who  desired  to  become  a  Christian 
should  be  freed  at  the  cost  of  tlie  Church:  above  all,  he 
would  not  suffer  Christians  to  I'emain  the  slaves  of  Jews. 
When  he  could  not  free  them  otherwise  by  legal  means,  he 
caused  them  to  be  redeemed  out  of  the  ecclesiastical  treas- 
Andthe  ury.^^^  Howcver,  he  checked  energetically  the 
Jews.  rigorous  measures  and  popular  violence  to  which  the 

Jews,  in  the  midst  of  new-born  Christendom,  were  already 
exposed.  His  conduct  and  precepts  on  this  subject  formed  a 
striking  contrast  to  the  odious  persecution  then  inflicted  by 
the  intolerant  zeal  of  the  new  Christians  in  Gaul  and  Spain 
upon  the  children  of  Israel.^^o  jj^  strictly  interdicted  the 
bishops  of  Aries  and  Marseilles  from  baptizing  them  by  force. 
He  obliged  the  bishops  of  Terracina,  of  Palermo,  and  Cagliari 
to  restore  to  them  the  synagogues  from  which  they  had  been 
expelled.  "  It  is  by  gentleness,"  he  wrote  to  these  prelates, 
"  by  benevolence  and  exhortations  that  we  must  lead  the  un- 
believers back  to  unity,  lest  we  alienate  by  terrors  and 
menaces  those  whom  charitable  preaching  and  thefear  of  the 
last  judgment  shall  not  have  established  in  the  faith.     We 

117  41  Dirupto  quo  tenebamur  capti  vinculo  servitutis  .  .  .  salubriter  agi- 
tur,  si  homines,  quos  ab  initio  natura  liberos  protulit,  et  jus  gentium  jugo 
substituit  servitutis,  in  ea  qua  nati  fuerant  raanuiuittentis  libertate  reddan- 
lur." — Episi.,  vi.  12. 

118  u  gervus  ergo  liic  jam  fugit  dominum,  sed  liber  non  est.  .  .  .  Ibi  ergo 
.  .   .  ubi  jam  .  .   .  de  ejus  indulgentia  liL)er  exsultet."  —  Moral.,  i.  iv.  c.  36. 

""  "  Si  quos  Clniftianonini  pro  longitudino  itineris  per  provincias  ab  He- 
brffioruni  servitio  per  hgalem  violtniiam  liberare  non  poterat,  suis  pretiia 
redumendos  esse  oensi'liat." — Joan.  Diac.,  iv.  44.     Compare  46. 

'*"  Cliilperic,  king  of  lS\-u»iiia,  iiad  tliem  baptized  by  force  in  582.  Sigi- 
bcrt.  king  of  tlie  Visigoiiis.  made  a  law  in  613  to  scourge  and  exile  frooi 
Spain  all  Jews  who  would  not  consent  to  Le  baptized. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  389 

raiist  use  such  moderation  with  theni  that  they  will  not  resist 
us ;  but  we  must  never  constrain  them  against  tlicir  will, 
since  it  is  written,  'Offer  yourselves  a  willing-  sacrifice.' '"  ^^' 

It  maybe  affirmed  that  tl'is  sentiment  of  intel-  uiscon- 
ligcnt  and  liberal  charity  was  the  leading  principle  w'lnil"' 
of  his  generous  efforts  to  root  out  the  remains  of  P«S'^ns- 
paganism,  as  well  as  those  of  heresy  and  schism,  from  the 
countries  where  his  authority  transcended  every  other.  And 
if  he  sometimes  appears  to  derogate  from  this  by  rigorous 
measures,  which  we  lament  to  find  in  the  history  of  so  noble 
a  life,  it  must  be  acknowledge  that  tliese  fell  always  far  short 
of  the  severity  authorized  by  the  laws  and  manners  of  his 
time.  Thus  it  is  lamentable  to  see  him  lend  his  authority  to 
the  corporal  punisliment  of  the  Barbaricians,!^^  a  pagan  tribe 
from  Africa,  whom  the  Vandals  had  left  in  the  island  of  Sar- 
dinia ;  and  elsewhere  to  enjoin,  now  that  a  higher  rate  of 
taxes  should  be  exacted  from  the  pagans  who  refused  to  be 
converted,^^^  and  now  that  the  Jews  should  be  allured  to  bap- 
tism by  the  bait  of  taking  off  a  third  from  the  rent  of  their 
farms. 

For  this  proceeding  he  gave  the  melancholy  reason  which 
has  since  served  other  proselytizers :  "  If  they  are  not  sin- 
cerely converted  themselves,  their  children  at  least  will 
be  baptized  with  better  will.''^^*  But  even  this  was  an  im- 
provement upon  the  custom  of  judges  and  even  bishops,  who 
made  the  peasants  pay  for  permission  to  worship  their  gods, 
and  even  continued  to  extort  that  tribute  after  these  pagans 
had  been  converted.  He  was  careful  to  interdict  all  vexa- 
tious taxes  imposed  upon  old  or  now  Catholics  under  pretence 
of  heresy,  and  every  kind  of  violence  against  schismatics, 
however  obstinate.^2^  He  succeeded,  notwithstand-  And  the 
ing,  in  destroying  in  Africa  the  heresy  of  the  Dona-  conatists 

"'  Epist.,  i.  35;  vii.  5,  2. 

'^-  "Jam  Barbaricinos,  Sardos  et  Campaniae  rusticos,  tarn  praBdicationibus 
quam  verberibus  emendates  a  paganizandi  vanitate  removerat."  —  Joan. 
IJiAC,  iii.  1. 

'^'  Epist.,  iv.  26.  I  cannot  but  recall  here  that,  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
the  Puritans  of  Maryland  employed  precisely  the  same  means,  when  thej- 
had  the  majority,  to  pervert  the  Catholics  whom  they  had  received  into  that 
colony,  wliich  was  founded  on  tlie  express  stipulation  of  religious  liberty  for 
all.  —  See  Ed.  Laboulaye,  Ilistoire  des  Elats-Vnis,  t.  i. 

'^^  Epist.,  V.  8.  This  was  repeated  by  Mme.  de  Maintenon  after  the  rev- 
ocation of  the  edict  of  Nantes. 

'*'*  "  Sub  prsetextu  hasresis  affligi  quempiam  veraciter  profitentem  fidem 
catholicam  non  sinamus."  —  Episi.,  v.  15.  "  Schismaticos  ad  recipiendam 
satisfactinneni  venire  invitabat,  quibus  etiam,  si  nusquam  ad  unitateui  Ec- 

33* 


390  ST.  grii:gory  the  great. 

tists,  which  had  lasted  nearly  two  centuries,  and  which  had 
consumed  the  strength  of  St.  Augustine  :  he  proceeded  in 
this  matter  with  as  much  prudence  as  energy,  respecting  the 
ancient  customs  which  were  not  contrary  to  the  Catholic 
faith,  and  refusing  to  approve  of  the  too  rigorous  measures 
decreed  by  the  Council  of  Carthage  against  all  bishops  who 
did  not  pursue  the  heretics  with  sufficient  ardor.^^^  After 
this  council,  held  in  594,  the  Donatists  disappear  from  history. 
He  puts  an  ^^  ^^^  ^^^^  ^'^®  good  fortune  to  terminate  the 
eiiiitotiie  schism  of  Aquileia,  which  had  for  hulf  a  century  sep- 
tTir'nuee  arated  from  the  body  of  the  Church  the  bishops  of 
Chapters.  Vcuetia  and  Istria,  obstinate  defenders  of  the  three 
chapters  condemned  at  the  fifth  general  council ;  and  although 
tliis  schism  was  founded  upon  a  sort  of  insurrection  of  Latin 
or  Italian  feeling  against  the  intemperate  interference  of  the 
Eastern  emperors  on  theological  questions,  Gregory  had 
specially  to  contend  with  the  artifices  used  by  Byzantine 
agents  to  keep  up  that  division. 

Services  The  scrvices  which  he  rendered  to  the  Liturgy 

rendered       ^^^  ^^g||   ]^jjQ^y,;,_     jjj   that  particuh\r,  no   pope  has 

Liturt^T-  equalled  him.  Completing  and  putting  in  order  the 
work  of  his  predecessors,  he  gave  its  definitive  form  to  the 
holy  sacrifice  of  the  mass,  and  the  worship  of  the  Roman 
Church,  in  that  celebrated  Sacramentary,  which,  retouched 
and  added  to  during  following  ages,  remains  the  most  august 
And  to  monument  of  liturgical  science.  It  may  also  be  said 
Christian  that  he  Created,  and  by  anticipation  saved,  Christian 
art,  by  fixing,  long  before  the  persecution  of  the 
iconoclasts  made  that  the  duty  of  the  Churcli,  the  true  doc- 
trine respecting  the  worship  of  images,  in  that  fine  letter 
to  the  bishop  of  Marseilles,  in  which  he  reproves  him  for 
having,  in  the  excess  of  his  zeal  against  idolatry,  broken 
the  statues  of  the  saints,  and  reminds  him  that  through  all 
antiquity  the  history  of  the  saints  has  been  represented  in 
pictures  ;  that  painting  is  to  the  ignorant  what  writing  is 
to  those  who  can  read,  and  that  images  are  principally  use- 
ful to  the  poor.12' 

But  his  name  is  specially  associated,   iu'  the    history  of 
Catholic  worship,  with  that    branch  of  religious  art  which 

clesise  redire  voluissent,  niiJlam  se  facturtim  violentiam  promittehat."  — 
Joan.  Diac,  v.  37;  Epist.,  iv.  49.  Let  us  observe  also  his  extreme  gentle- 
ness towards  certain  Christians  of  the  island  of  Corsica  who  had  relapsed 
into  paganism.  —  Epist.,  viii.  i. 

'"«  Epist.,  V.  5.  '*^  Epist..,  xi.  13. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  391 

is  ideritified  with  worship  itself,  and  which  is  of  tho  utmost 
moment  to  the  piety  as  to  the  innocent  joy  of  the  Chris- 
tian people.i-^ 

Tlie  name  of  the  Gregorian  Chant  reminds  us  of  Gregorian 
his  solicitude  for  collecting  the  ancient  melodies  of  "^'i'"**- 
the  Church,  in  order  to  subject  them  to  the  rules  of  har- 
mony, and  to  arrange  them  according  to  the  requirements 
of  divine  worship.  He  had  the  glory  of  giving  to  ecclesi- 
astical music  that  sweet  and  solemn,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
popular  and  durable  character,  which  has  descended  through 
ages,  and  to  which  we  must  always  return  after  the  most 
prolonged  aberrations  of  frivolity  and  innovation.  He  made 
out  himself,  in  his  Antiphonary,  the  collection  of  ancient 
and  new  chants;  he  composed  the  text  and  music  of  several 
hymns  which  are  still  used  by  the  Church;  he  established 
at  Rome  the  celebrated  school  of  religious  music,  to  which 
Graul,  Germany,  England,  all  the  Christian  nations,  came  in 
turn,  trying  with  more  or  less  success  to  assimilate  their 
voices  to  the  purit}^  of  Italian  modulations.^^^  A  pleasant 
legend,  much  esteemed  in  the  middle  ages,  shows  the  great 
etJect  which  the  services  of  Gregory  had  produced  on  all 
nations.  According  to  this  tale,  it  was  in  considering  the 
fascination  exercised  by  profane  music,  that  he  was  led  to 
inquire  whether  he  could  not,  like  David,  consecrate  music 
to  the  service  of  God.  And  as  he  dreamt  of  this  subject 
one  night,  he  had  a  vision  in  which  the  Church  appeared 
to  him  under  the  form  of  a  muse,  magnificently  adorned, 
who,  while  she  wrote  her  songs,  gathered  all  her  children 
under  the  folds  of  her  mantle  ;  and  upon  this  mantle  was 
written  the  whole  art  of  music,  with  all  the  forms  of  ita 
tones,  notes,  and  neumes,  and  various  measures  and  sympho- 
nies.    The  pope  prayed  God  to  give  him  the  power  of  recol- 

'^^  In  several  churches,  and  during  several  centuries,  a  prose,  in  honor  of 
St.  Gre.^ory,  was  sung  before  the  introit  of  the  first  Sunday  of  Advent,  in 
which  occur  the  following  verses  :  — 

"  Tradidit  hie  cantum  populis  normamque  canendi, 
Q.iod  Domino  laudes  referant  noctuque  dieque." 
--  Gerbeut,  De  Cant,  et  Mas.  Sacrii,  t.  i.  lib.  2,  ap.  Lau.  245. 

'^^  All  musical  historians  have  quoted  the  grotesque  description  which  the 
Itali.m  niograplier  of  St.  Gregory  gives  of  the  efforts  of  the  Germans  and 
French  of  the  ninth  century,  to  harmonize  the  songs  of  the  Gregorian  school: 
''  Aljiina  siquidem  corpora  vocum  suarum  tonitruis  altisone  perrepentia,  sus- 
cepta)  modulationis  dulcedinem,  proprie  non  resultant:  quia  bibuli  gutturis 
barbara  levitas,  dum  in  flexionibus  et  repercussionibus  mitem  nititur  edere 
cantilcnam,  natural!  quodani  fragore,  quasi  plaustra  per  gradus  confuse  so- 
nantia  rigidas  voces  jactat."  —  Joan.  Diac,  ii.  7. 


392  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

« 

lecting  all  that  be  saw  ;  and  after  he  awoke,  a  dove  appeared, 
who  dictated  to  him  the  musical  compositions  with  which  he 
has  enriched  the  Church.^s'^ 

A  more  authentic  memorial  is  that  of  the  little  chamber 
which  he  occupied  in  the  school  of  music,  which  he  bad  es- 
tablished near  the  Lateran,  and  where,  three  centuries  after 
his  death,  the  bed  upon  which  he  reclined  while  singing  was 
still  to  be  seen,  and  the  whip  with  which  he  corrected  the 
children,  whose  musical  education  he  thus  watched  over.^^^ 
His  assura-  Must  we  now  condesccud  to  refute,  after  the  ex- 
ath""to^  ample  of  many  other  writers,  the  calumnious  accu- 
ciassicai  sations  brought  against  Gregory  by  blind  enemies, 
and  sometimes  by  imprudent  admirers,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  his  supposed  contempt  for  literature  and  science? 
He  is  accused  of  having  destroyed  the  ancient  monuments  of 
Rome,  burnt  the  Palatine  library,  destroyed  the  writings  of 
Cicero  and  Titus  Livius,  expelled  the  mathematicians  from 
Rome,  and  reprimanded  Bishop  Didier  of  Vienne  for  teach- 
ing grammar  to  children.  None  of  these  imputations,  ex- 
cept the  last,  is  founded  upon  any  authority  earlier  than  the 
twelfth  century.132  The  most  authentic  evidence,  on  the 
contrar}',  exhibits  him  to  us  as  educated  in  the  schools,  aa 
nourished  by  the  wise  discipline  of  ancient  Rome,  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  most  learned  priests  and  monks  of  his  time, 
making  the  seven  liberal  arts,  as  his  biographer  says,  noble 
pillars  of  the  portico  of  the  apostolical  chair.^^^ 

His  contemporary,  Gregory  of  Tours,  who  visited  him  in 
Rome,  says  of  him,  that  he  was  unequalled  for  grammar,  dia- 
letics,  and  rhetoric. i'^*  He  had,  doubtless,  made  many  efforts 
to  root  out  paganism,  which  perpetuated  itself  in  the  literary 
tastes  and  popular  habits  of  that  Italy,  where  a  short  time 

J30  u  Vidit  sanctan)  Ecclesiam  ornatam  et  compositam  quae  quasi  musa 
cantum  suum  componit  .  .  .  quasi  gallina  pullos  .  .  .  et  quasi  sub  uno 
dragnise  tegmine  tabclluliB,  ubi  scripla  erat  ars  nmsica,  nomina  tonorum  et 
neumatum  numeri." — Joann.  Presbyt.,  De  Musica  quomodo  per  B.  Grego- 
rum  perinventa,  lib.  3,  ap.  Gerbert,  op.  cit.,  lib.  ii.,  par.  ii.  c.  i. 

*^'  "Ubi  usque  hudie  lectus  ejus  in  quo  recubans  modulabatur,  et 
flagellum  ipsius  ,  .  .  cum  authentico  antiphonario  reservatur."  —  Joan. 
DiAC,  1.  c. 

'^^  The  first  author  who  has  mentioned  this,  and  with  praise,  is  John  of 
Salisbury;  who  died  in  1183. 

^•^■^  "  Septemplicibus  artibus  veluti  columnis  nobilissimorum  totidem  lapi- 
dum  apostolicae  sedis  atrium  fulciebat."  —  Joan.  Diac,  ii.  13.  Compare 
ibid.,  c.  14. 

'^■'  "Litteris  grammaticis  dialecticisque  ac  rhetoricis  ita  erat  institutr? 
ut  nulli  in  urbe  ipsa  putaretur  esse  secundus."  —  Greg.  Turon.,  Jfist- 
Franc,  x.  1. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  393 

before  St.  Benedict  had  found  a  temple  of  Apollo  upon  the 
summit  of  Monte  Cassino.  Ho  disapproved  of  bestowing  ex- 
clusive attention  upon  mythological  subjects,  but  never  either 
wrote  or  commanded  ans'thing  against  the  study  of  humane 
or  classical  literature.  He  has,  on  the  contrary,  proved  at 
length  that  this  study  was  a  useful  preparation  and  indispen- 
sable help  to  the  understanding  of  sacred  literature.  He 
regarded  the  disgust  of  certain  Christians  for  literary  studies 
aft  a  temptation  of  the  devil,  and  added:  "  The  devils  know 
well  that  the  knowledge  of  profane  literature  helps  us  to 
understand  sacred  literature.  In  dissuading  us  from  this 
study,  they  act  as  the  Philistines  did,  when  they  interdicted 
the  Israelites  from  making  swords  or  lances,  and  obliged  that 
nation  to  come  to  them  i'or  the  sharpening  of  their  axes  and 
ploughshares."  ^^ 

He  reproved  the  bishop  of  Vienne  only  for  devoting  him- 
self to  reading  and  teaching  the  profane  poets,  to  the  prejudice 
of  the  dignity  of  his  charge,  and  represented  to  him  that  the 
praises  of  Jupiter  did  not  come  fitly  from  the  same  lips  which 
uttered  those  of  Jesus  Christ.^36  j^  is  by  an  exaggeration  of 
humility  that,  in  the  dedication  of  his  book  upon  Job,  he 
shows  a  scorn  of  grammar  and  barbarity  of  language  which 
is  nowhere  to  be  found  in  his  writings.  He  certainly  did  not 
write  the  Latin  of  Cicero  or  even  of  Tacitus,  but  he  contrib- 
uted as  much  as  St.  Augustine  to  form  the  new  Latin,  the 
Christian  Latin,  destined  to  become  the  language  of  the  pul- 
pit and  the  school,  and  from  which  all  our  modern  languages 
have  proceeded. ^^^ 

It  cannot  be  expected   that  we  should  examine,  His  writ- 
even   passingly,   the   writings   of  St.    Gregory   the   '""*• 
Great.     They   largely  contributed  to  procure  him  this  sur- 
name ;  which  implies  that  they  are  equal  to  his  glory,  and 
have  largely  contributed  to  the  happy  influence  of  his  genius 
upon  the  destinies  of  the  Church. 

In  an  age  when  everything  seemed  giving  way,  and  in 
which   it  was  necessary  to   struggle,  not  only  against  the 

ijb  u  ^(j  j^Q^j  tivntum  liberales  artes  discendffi  sunt  ut  per  instructionem  ilia- 
rum  divina  eloquentia  subtilius  intelligatur.  ...  A  nonnullorum  cordibua 
discendi  desideriuin  maligni  spiritus  tollunt,  ut  et  saecularia  nesciant  et  ad 
subliniitalein  spiritualium  non  pertingant.  Aperte  quidera  dismones  sciunl 
quia,  dum  ssecularibus  litteris  instruimur,  in  spiritualibus  adjuvamur.  .  .  . 
Cum  nos  ea  discere  dissuadent,  quid  aliud  quain  ne  lanceam  ut  gladium  fa- 
eiamus  praecavent?  "  — Liv.  v.  in  Frimicm  Regiim,  c.  xxx.  §  30. 

'^^  "Quia  in  uno  se  ore  cum  Jovis  laudibus  laudes  Christ!  non  capiunt  '  — 
Epist.,  xi.  54. 

'^'  OzANAM,  fragment  already  quoted. 


394  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

quibbles  of  heresy,  but  especially  against  exhausted  courage, 
the  despair  of  the  vanquished,  and  the  savage  pride  of  the 
conquerors,  he  concerns  himself  less  with  the  necessities  of  the 
intellect  than  with  the  purification  and  elevation  of  the  hu- 
man will.  Many  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Church  have  surpassed 
him  in  style  and  eloquence  ;  his  style  is  too  redundant,  too 
evidentl}^  marked  by  the  rhetorical  habits  of  a  declining 
age  ;  but  no  man  ever  understood  the  human  soul  better,  ana- 
lyzed more  closely  its  miseries  and  necessities,  or  indicated 
with  greater  clearness  and  energy  the  remedy  for  these  evils. 
No  one  has  spoken  or  written  with  an  austerity  greater  or 
better  acknowledged  by  posterity ;  no  one  has  so  completely 
set  forth  the  constitution  and  doctrine  of  the  Church.  We 
have  already  spoken  of  his  Sacrameiitary ,  which  determined 
the  chants,  the  language  and  the  form  of  the  liturgy,  and  also 
of  his  Dialogues,  which  have  been  the  model  of  the  hagiog- 
raphy  of  the  middle  ages.  Let  us  further  refer  to  his  Pas- 
toral, in  which  he  has  collected  the  rules  which  should  regu- 
late the  vocation,  life,  and  doctrine  of  pastors,  and  where  he 
mingles  his  instructions  with  touching  and  noble  reflections 
upon  his  own  infirmity.  Tt  has  been  said  with  justice  that 
this  book  gave  form  and  life  to  the  entire  hierarchical  body, 
and  made  tlie  bishops  who  have  made  modern  nations.^^^ 
Then  came  his  admirable  works  upon  H0I3"  Scripture ;  and 
The  Mo-  above  all,  the  thirty-five  books  of  Uoralia,  or  com- 
raiia.  mentaries  on  the  book  of  Job,  begun  at  Constantino- 

ple before  his  election,  and  continued  during  his  pontificate, 
which  popularized  the  secrets  of  asceticism  by  developing  the 
loftiest  traditions  of  Biblical  interpretation,  and  were  worthy 
of  becoming,  through  all  the  middle  ages,  the  text-book, of 
moral  theology.  In  our  own  days,  the  portion  of  his  works 
which  is  read  with  greatest  interest  are  his  thirteen  volumes 
His  oi Epistles,  the  collection  of  that  immense  correspond- 

episties.  •  euco  by  which  he  conducted,  day  b}'  day,  and  ac- 
cording to  the  necessities  of  the  time,  the  usual  legislation 
of  the  Church,  in  which  his  unwearied  eye  visited  from 
Ireland  to  Caucasus  the  furthest  corners  of  the  Christian 
world,  and  in  which  he  has  traced  at  the  same  time  a  living 
picture  of  his  own  age,  and  the  annals  of  that  great  govern- 
ment of  souls,  and  even  of  temporal  interests,  which  he  exer- 
cised with  so  much  justice,  prudence,  activity,  wisdom,  and 
compassion. 

'•**  OzANAM,  unpublished  fragment. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  395 

He  was,  besides,  an  eloquent  and  unwearied  Hisser- 
preacher,  and  esteemed  it  of  the  highest  importance  ™°°^- 
that  this  duty  should  be  fulfilled  by  other  bishops  as  it  was 
by  hiraself.^2^  He  devoted  himself  to  this  without  intermis- 
sion, even  in  the  most  serious  difficulties  of  his  charge.  He 
was  prone  to  deride  those  sacred  orators  who  sometimes  did 
not  speak  enough,  and  sometimes  spoke  too  much  ;  wordy  in 
superfluous  matters,  mute  in  things  necessary .i**^  His  twenty- 
two  homilies  on  Ezekiel  were  dehvered  by  him  before  the 
people,  as  has  been  formerly  mentioned,  during  the  siege  of 
Rome  by  the  Lombards.  Of  his  forty  homilies  upon  the 
Gospel,  twenty  were  preached  by  himself,  and  the  other 
twenty  were  read  to  the  people  by  a  notary,  in  consequence 
of  the  personal  sufferings  which  prevented  him  from  ascend- 
ing the  pulpit. 

A  theologian,  a  philosopher,  and  an  orator,  he  is   He  was  the 
worthy  of  taking  his  place  by  that  triple  title,  in  the   ^j^r'^'g^'^joc- 
veneration  of  Christendom,  beside  Augustine,  Am-  tor  of  the 
brose,  and  Jerome,  to  be  ranked  with  them  among 
the  four  great  doctors  of  the  Western  Church,  and  to  take 
his  place  thus  in  the  first  rank  of  that  order  of  which  he  him- 
self has  said  :  ''  In  Ecclesia  ordo  doctorum  quasi  rex  praesidet, 
quern  fidelium  suorum  turba  circumstat."  ^^^ 

He  would  never  have  judged  himself  worthy  of    jjigp^- 
such  an  honor,  for  he  despised  his  own  works.     He   |'"'^"'.e 
composed   his  Morals  only  at  the  entreaty  of  his    ^"""'^' 
friend  St.  Leander,  and  before  sending  him  the  work  which 
was  dedicated  to  him,  desired  to  submit  it  to  the  judgment  of 
the  various  monasteries  in  Rome.     He  did  not  suppose  it 
adapted  to  become  a  means  of  instruction  to  the  Christian 
world,  aijd  was  distressed  that,  in  his  lifetime,  a  bishop  had 
read  it  in  public.     "  So  long  as  I  live,  I  desire,  if  I  succeed 
in  saying  something  that  is  good,  that  men  should  not  know 
of  it."  1"^^     We  recognize  the  humility  of  the  pontiff  in  the 
tale  which  informs  us  how,  seeing  a  Persian  abbot  prostrate 
himself  at  his  feet,  he  himself  knelt  before  the  Oriental  to 
prevent  such  a  homage. ^^^  Hecon- 

His  humiUty  as  a  monk  should  be  also  acknowl-  tinuesai- 
edged  here  ;  which  reminds  us  that  it  is  our  special   monL* 


'^*  Reg  Ilia  Pastoralis,  part  iii.  c.  25. 

140  u  Verbosus  in  supertluis,  mutus  in  necessariis." 


'■"  Moral.,  lib.  xx.  c.  5. 
142  u  Necque  enim  volo,  dum  in  hac  carne  sum,  si  qua  dixisse  me  contigi^ 
ea  facile  honiinibus  innotesci."  —  Epist-,  xii.  24. 

*■*'  SoPHRONius.      Praium  Spirituale,  ap.  Yepes,  t.  i.  p.  424. 


396  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

business  to  show  the  monk  in  the  great  pope,  of  whom 
we  have,  perhaps,  spoken  at  too  great  length.  In  his 
public  life,  in  his  immortal  reign,  and  especially  in  his  writ- 
ings, everything  bears  the  ineffaceable  impression  of  his 
monastic  education  and  spirit.  It  only  remains  lor  us  to  tell 
what  he  did  to  regulate  and  increase  the  progress  oi'  the  order 
of  which  he  was,  after  St.  Benedict,  the  principal  ornament, 
the  second  legislator,  and,  according  to  some,  the  true  found- 
er in  the  West. 

Services  ^^  ^'^®  scrvices  rendered  to  his  order  by  the  first 

rendered  mouk  who  was  raisod  to  the  papacy,  that  biography 
moiiiistic  of  the  holy  patriarch  which  is  contained  in  the  sec- 
ordor.  ^^^  book  of  the  Dialogues,  and  which  no  one  since 

then  has  ever  undertaken  to  do  over  again,  must  hold  the 
Hecon-  highest  place.  But  he  did  still  more  in  completing 
fui'eom.  am^  sanctioning  the  rule  of  Benedict  by  the  supreme 
Benedict.  authority  of  the  apostolical  see.  In  the  Council  of 
Rome  in  595,  he  solemnly  approved  and  confirmed  this  rule.^^^ 
He  o-uaran-  In  tlio  Couucil  of  601,  lie  gavc  a  constitutioD  des- 
teeslhe        tiucd  to  establish  and  2'uarantee  the  freedom  of  the 

liberty  and  ,       ,,-  „,,   .         ,  °  j^i  //  mi 

property  of  mouks.^^^  i liis  dccree  commences  thus:  "Ihe 
the  monks,  charge  whicli  we  formerly  filled  as  head  of  a  monas- 
tery, has  tauglit  us  how  necessary  it  is  to  provide  for  the 
tranquillity  and  security  of  the  monks  ;  and  as  we  know  that 
most  of  them  have  had  to  suffer  much  oppression  and  injus- 
tice at  the  hands  of  the  bishops,  it  concerns  our  fraternal 
feeling  to  provide  for  their  future  repose."  Then,  in  the 
name  of  Jesus  Christ  and  St.  Peter,  he  interdicts  bishops  as 
well  as  secular  persons  from  diminishing  the  property,  rev- 
enues,  or  titles  of  monasteries.  He  ordains  that  disputes 
relative  to  the  land  claimed  in  the  name  of  episcopal  churches 
should  be  decided  by  the  abbots  or  other  arbitrators  fearing 
God.  Ho  arranges  that  after  the  death  of  every  abbot,  his 
successor  should  be  chosen  by  the  free  and  unanimous  con- 
sent of  the  community,  and  drawn  from  its  own  bosom ; 
that  once  elected  and  ordained  without  fraud  or  bribery,  the 

'■•*  Raronius,  Annal.,  ad  an.  595,  ex  MS.  Sublacensi.  The  authenticity 
of  this  charter  has  been  disputed,  but  it  is  evident  that  Gregory  sanctioned  tlie 
rule  of  St.  Benedict  eitlier  tlien,  or  afterwards,  by  Canon  VIT.  of  the  yecond 
Council  of  Douzy,  near  Sedan,  in  874.  wliich  says :  "  Eadeni  regula  S. 
Spiritu  promulgata  et  hiudis  auctoritate  B.  papas  Gregorii  inter  canonicas 
scripturas  et  catholicorum  doctorum  scripta  teneri  decreta  est." 

145  i' Decretum  Constituti  nomine  appellari  solituna.  .  .  .  Decretum  Gre- 
gorii papae  de  libertate  nionachoruni."  —  Aot.  ad.  Concil  ,  ed.  Coletti,  t.  \i 
p.  1343. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  397 

abbot  could  only  be  deprived  of  the  government  of  the  mon- 
aster}'-  for  crimes  provided  for  by  the  canons.  No  monk 
could  be  taken  from  his  monastery  to  be  employed  in  the  du- 
ties of  the  secular  clergy.  Monks  ordained  priests  by  the 
consent  of  the  abbot  must  leave  the  monaster}'.  The  bishops 
are  further  forbidden  to  proceed  with  inventories  of  monastic 
goods  after  the  death  of  the  abbot,  to  celebrate  public  masses 
in  the  churches  of  the  monks,  drawing  the  crowd  and  women 
there,  as  also  from  erecting  their  own  pulpit,  or  exercising 
the  slightest  authority  there,  except  at  the  desire  of  the  ab- 
bot.^^  We  desire,  said  the  pope  in  concluding  the  procla- 
mation of  his  decree,  that  this  passage  written  by  us  should 
be  always  and  inviolably  observed  by  the  bishops,  in  order 
that  the  monks  may  not  be  turned  aside  from  divine  service 
by  any  trouble  or  vexation  on  the  part  of  ecclesiastics  or 
secular  persons.  All  the  bishops  present  at  the  council  an- 
swered :  **  We  rejoice  in  the  freedom  of  the  monks,  and  con- 
firm all  that  your  holiness  ordains."  ^^^  And  all  signed,  to  the 
number  of  twenty,  with  fourteen  cardinal  priests,  and  four 
deacons  of  the  Roman  Church. 

Amid  the  disorders  and  conflicts  which  agitated  the  Church 
and  wasted  Christendom,  the  work  of  St.  Benedict  was  thus 
invested  with  the  highest  sanction  existing  upon  earth.  The 
free  choice  of  its  chiefs,  and  the  inviolability  of  its  property, 
the  two  fundamental  principles  of  every  independent  and 
regular  society,  were  guaranteed  to  the  monastic  order  by 
the  most  solemn  act,  emanating  from  a  pope  who  remembered, 
and  considered  himself  honored  in  remembering,  that  he  had 
been  a  monk. 

Along  with  this   general   liberty  assured  to  the  privileges 
entire  order,  Gregory  had  conceded  analogous  and  aceorrie'd 

.,.'.,  o      ./  .  c'  to  various 

special  privileges  to  several  monasteries,     rle  may  monaster- 
be  regarded  as   the  principal  author  of  what  has  "^^* 
since  been  called  exemptions }^^     In  releasing  the  great  com- 

'•"•'  "  Quam  sit  necessariuin  nionachorum  qnieti  prospicere  .  .  .  anteacturu 
nos  offltuum  quod  in  reginiine  coenobii  exhibuimus  infonnat,  et  quia  in  plerisque 
nionasteriis  muita  a  prajsulibus  prsejudicia  et  gravamina  monaclios  pertulisse 
cognovimus,  uportet  ut  nostra  fraternitatis  provisio  de  futura  eoruni  quiete 
salubri  rlisponat  ordinatione.  .  .  .  Ut  nullus  episcoporum  seu  saecularium 
ultra  priesumat  .  .  .  non  extraneus  eligatur,  nisi  de  eadem  congregatione, 
quern  sibi  propria  voluntate  concors  fratrum  societas  elegerit.  .  .  .  Hanc 
seriptorum  nostrorum  paginarn  omni  futuro  tempore  ab  episcopis  tirmam 
statuimus  illibatamque  servari."  —  Concil.,  1.  c. 

'■•^  '•  Libertati  monachorum  congaudemus,  et  quae  nunc  de  liis  statuit  Beau* 
tudo  Vestra  firmamus."  — Ibid. 

^*^  Several  examples  of  these  are  instanced  prior  to  bis  pontificate,  and  aa 

VOL.  I.  34 


398  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

munities  of  Gaul  and  Italy  in  various  essential  points  from 
episcopal  jurisdiction,  he  evidently  had  in  view  only  to  fortify 
them  in  spiritual  life,  and  to  form  so  many  centres  of  ener- 
getic resistance  against  the  disorders  which  the  different 
invasions  and  struggles  of  diverse  races  among  tliemselves 
had  made  frequent  in  the  ranks  of  the  secular  clergy.  Ho 
said  expressly  to  a  community  at  Rimini,  in  conferring  upon 
it  the  exemption  it  solicited  :  ''  You  must  now  all  the  muro 
be  occupied  with  the  work  of  God,  all  the  more  assiduous  in 
prayer,  for  otherwise  you  should  appear  not  to  have  sought 
gi  eater  security  for  your  orisons,  but  only,  which  God  for- 
bid !  to  secure  your  laxness  from  episcopal  severity."  ^^^ 
Distinciion  ^^  ^^'^^  ^'^0  with  this  aim  that  he  endeavored  to 
between       enforcc  a  rigorous  distinction  between  the  ecclesias- 

monastic  .,  ■,-    ■  -,  •      t  n  i-      •         •  i-i 

and  clerical  ticai  couditiou  and  monastic  liie,  a  distinction  which 
completely  disappeared  in  after  times.  He  would 
not  suffer  either  a  priest  or  a  deacon  to  becom.e  an  abbot,  or 
even  a  mere  monk,  unless  he  gave  up  his  clerical  functions: 
for,  said  he,  ''  There  are  some  who,  feigning  to  live  as  monks, 
are  ambitious  of  being  placed  at  the  head  of  monasteries, 
which  they  destroy  by  their  manner  of  life."  ^^^  He  was 
very  willing  that  there  should  be  monks  in  the  priesthood  to 
celebrate  mass  in  the  communities;  i°i  above  all,  he  had  no 
intention  of  interdicting  the  elevation  of  monks  to  sacerdotal 
or  episcopal  dignity,  of  which  there  were  several  instances 
under  his  pontificate.  But  every  monk  called  to  an  ecclesi- 
astical office  or  benefice  was  to  leave  his  monastery,  never  to 
return.152  They  had  to  choose  between  the  clerical  office 
and  monastic  life;  for,  according  to  Gregory,  each  of  these 
vocations  is  so  great  in  itself,  that  no  man  can  acquit  himself 

far  back  as  the  first  years  of  the  sixtli  century,  but  they  are  not  of  a  sufficient- 
ly authentic  character.  Some  authors,  however,  among  others  Thomassin 
(^Vetus  ei  Nova  Disciplina,  pars  i.  lib.  iii.  c.  30),  liave  maintained  that,  by  his 
concessions,  Gregory  did  not  lessen  the  spiritual  jurisdiction  of  the  bishops 
over  the  communities.  This  appears  difficult  to  prove  in  presence  of  the  text, 
which  is  of  a  very  different  tenor.  The  tirst  exemption  given  to  a  monastery 
in  Gaul  was  by  St.  Gregory  to  a  community  of  women  founded  in  honor  of 
John  Cassianus,  at  Marseilles.  —  Epist.,  vii.  12. 

'■**  Epist.,  ii.  42,  ad  Luminosum  abbatem. 

loo  14  Dqqi  hi  fingunt  se  religiose  vivere  monasteriis  prfeponi  appetunt,  et 
per  eorum  vitani  monasteria  destruuntur."  — Epist.,  v.  1. 

'^'  Epist.,  vi.  42. 

"^  Concil.  de  601,  p.  1343,  ex.  Cod.  Flaviniac.  Compare  Epist.,  vii.  43. 
He  would  not  consent  tiiat  Urbicus,  abbot  of  St.  Hermes  and  general  superior 
of  the  Sicilian  monasteries,  should  be  elected  archbishop  of  Palermo,  "  ne 
eum  ad  altiora  producendo,  minorem  se  ipso  fieri  missum  in  fluctibue  com- 
pellerat. 


ST.  GKEGORY  THE  GREAT.  390 

in  it  \i^orthily ;  and  far  from  being  able  to  exercise  tbcra  to- 
getiier,  they  mutually  injui'e  each  otlier.^-^^  'pj^Q  experience 
of  Catholic  ages  has  corrected  upon  that  point  the  pious  fore- 
sight of  Gregory  :  and  even  in  his  own  lifetime  the  new  sees 
established  in  England  by  his  disciples  were  filled  only  by 
monks. 

If  the   experience  of  mon;i«tic  life  which  he  tiad    „  ^ 

t^  .        .  Reform  and 

acquired  as  an  abbot  helpeu  nnn  to  use  his  author-  consoiida- 
ity  as  pope  to  proniote  the  peace  and  freedom  of  the  mon°stio 
monks —  if  he  everywhere  displaj'ed  a  constant  and  ^'^'"p'"^^- 
efficient  solicitude  for  the  consolidation  of  the  order  —  he  al- 
ways insisted  at  the  same  time  upon  the  maintenance  and 
establishment  of  the  strictest  discipline.  At  the  time  of  his 
advent  to  the  Holy  See  that  discipline  was  already  much  re- 
laxed. Monks  wandered  here  and  there,  some  expelled  from 
their  asylums  by  the  Lombards,  some  voluntary  deserters 
from  a  retirement  which  they  had  left  in  consequence  of  the 
too  severe  authority  of  one  abbot,  or  the  contagious  laxnesa 
of  another.  The  spirit  of  the  world,  the  desire  of  property, 
the.  habit  of  rebellion  or  license,  penetrated  into  the  cloisters 
which  still  remained  st;mding  and  inhabited.  Gregory  de- 
voted himself  to  the  work  of  monastic  reform,  and  succeeded 
in  it.  He  invited  the  assistance  sometimes  of  the  abbots 
themselves,  sometimes  of  the  bishops,  and  still  more  frequent- 
ly of  the  c?p/ensores,  procurators  or  sj'ndicts  of  the  Roman 
Church,  whom  he  maintained  in  every  province.  He  deposed 
without  pity  all  the  abbots  who  lived  an  irregular  life.^^*  He 
forbade  the  bishops  to  atford  shelter  to  rebellious  or  vaga- 
bond monks,  or  those  who  were  excommunicated  by  their 
abbots.i^^  He  would  not  have  the  Heligious  wander  over  the 
country  or  from  one  house  to  another.^^e  ^o  deprive  both 
abbots  and  monks  of  all  pretext  for  leaving  their  monastery, 
he  ordained  that  each  should  have  a  secular  and  paid  procu- 

'^^  "  Satis  enini  incongruum  est,  ut  cum  unum  ex  his  pro  sui  magnitudine 
diligenter  quis  non  possit  explei'C,  ad  utrumque  judicetur  idoneus :  sicque 
invicem  et  ecclesiasticus  oi'do  Yitaj  monacliicae  et  ecclesiasiicis  utilitatibus 
regula  monachatus  impediut."  —  ^^i»;^.,  iv.  21.  This  did  not  prevent  many 
writers  of  liis  time  from  calling  tiie  monks  indiscriminately  monachiov  clerici  : 
see  espscially  Gregory  of  Tours,  I)e  Gloria  Mart.,  lib.  i.  c.  75.  Compare 
Mabillon,  FrcBf.  in  so.c.  Bened.  See  also  in  book  iv.,  a  reference  to  cap.  52 
of  the  rule  of  St.  Beneiict,  upon  tlie  originally  lax  character  of  the  monastic 
order. 

'^'»  Epist.,  iii.  23,  v.  3,  6. 

'**  Epist.,  vii.  35.  An  African  abbot,  called  Cum  quo  Detts,  had  complained 
to  him  that  his  monks  Hed  when  he  enforced  a  strict  observance  of  the  rule. 

>°8  Epist,  i.  41.  42,  &c. 


400  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

rator.  Ho  watched  especially  over  the  strict  observance  of 
monastic  continence,  to  sucli  an  extent  that  monasteries  of 
the  two  soxes  were  withdrawn  to  a  distance  from  each  other, 
and  women  were  rigorously  forbidden  to  enter,  upon  any 
pretext  whatever,  into  communities  of  men.  In  the  islands 
of  the  Italian  coast,  alread}"  peopled  with  monks,^*^^  and  to 
which  the  inhabitants  of  Campania  fleeing  from  the  Barba- 
rians had  found  a  refuge,  he  commanded  the  rector  of  the 
pontifical  patrimony  to  remove  all  the  women. 

He  was  specially  desirous  to  seek  out  and  shut  up  those 
monks  who  had  left  their  con'mumcies  in  order  to  marry,  and 
against  whom  the  Council  ol  Chalcedon  had  pronounced  ex- 
cominunication.i^^  But  even  in  applying  these  austere  laws, 
the  tender  charity  and  amiable  cordiality  which  distinguished 
his  character  always  reappeared.  A  patrician  of 
the  married  Syracusc,  named  Venantius,  a  great  friend  of  Greg- 
monk.  ^^,y^  became  a  monk   like   him  ;  but  was  afterwards 

disgusted  with  monastic  life,  and  married.  When  Gregory 
became  pope,  one  of  his  first  cares  was  to  recall  himself  to 
the  recollection  of  his  old  friend,  in  order  to  enlighten  him 
upon  the  seriousness  of  his  condition.  '•  Many  fools  be- 
lieved," he  wrote  to  him,  "  that  when  I  became  a  bishop  I 
should  cease  to  see  you  or  address  j^ou  by  letter  ;  but  it  shall 
not  be  so,  for  my  charge  itself  forbids  me  to  be  silent.  ...  I 
will  speak  to  you  whether  it  pleases  you  or  not,  .  .  .  be- 
cause I  desjre  above  all  either  to  save  you,  or  at  least  not  to 
be  responsible  for  your  loss.  You  know  what  habit  you  havo 
worn,'and  into  what  an  abyss  you  have  fallen.  .  .  .  If  Ananias 
merited  the  death  you  know  of,  for  having  stolen  from  God 
the  pieces  of  money  which  he  had  offered  to  Him,  think  what 
you  should  merit  who  have  stolen  away  from  God  not  money, 
but  yourself,  after  having  dedicated  yourself  to  Him  under 
the  monastic  habit.  I  know  well  that  as  soon  as  my  letter 
arrives,  you  will  assemble  your  friends  and  literary  clients, 
and  consult  upon  this  vital  question  those  who  have  abetted 
your  death.  These  people,  like  those  who  led  you  to  crime, 
tell  you  only  what  will  please  you,  because  they  love  not 
yourself  but  what  you  have.  If  you  need  a  counsellor  take 
me,  I  beseech  you.     No  one  could  be  more  faithful,  for  it  is 

"'  Especially  in  the  islands  of  Monte  Christo  and  Gorgone.  The  life  in 
these  island  monasteries  was  so  diflSeult  that  Gregory  forbade  the  reception 
of  young  people  under  eighteen,  and  ordered  that  all  who  were  below  that 
age  should  be  sent  back  to  Rome. 

*""  JEpist.,  i.  42. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  401 

you  I  love  and  not  your  fortune.  May  Almighty  God  teach 
your  heart  to  understand  how  much  my  heart  loves  and  em- 
braces you  in  everything-  that  does  not  offend  divine  grace. 
And  if  you  believe  that  1  love  you,  come  to  the  threshold  of 
the  apostles,  and  make  use  of  me  as  your  adviser.  If  you 
distrust  the  excess  of  my  zeal,  I  offer  you  the  advice  of  the 
whole  Church,  and  I  will  wiHinglj^  subscribe  to  whatever 
they  decide  by  common  accord."  ^^^ 

Venantius  was  deaf  to  the  voice  of  the  pontiff.  Gregory 
notwithstanding  remained  his  friend ;  he  continued  to  write 
to  him  and  also  to  his  wife.^^'^  Ten  years  later,  when  they 
were  both  old  and  sick,  he  returned  to  the  affectionate  elo- 
quence of  his  first  exhortations.  He  entreated  the  bishop  of 
Syracuse  to  neglect  no  means  of  leading  Venantius,  now  a 
widower,  to  take  again,  if  only  on  his  deathbed,  the  monastic 
habit;  and  after  the  death  of  his  friend  he  took  under  hia 
special  protection  the  two  daughters  whom  he  had  left  ex- 
posed to  all  kinds  of  dangers.  The  pope  interested  himself 
with  his  usual  zeal  in  their  fate  and  fortune ;  he  wrote  to 
them  himself,  engaged  them  to  come  to  Rome  to  be  near  him, 
and  was  as  a  father  to  these  orphans,  whom  he  always  called 
his  dearest  daughters}^^ 

He  took  an  equal  interest  in  the  discipline  and  p^^^^  .^ 
prosperity  of  female  convents. ^^^     The  three  sisters  monas- 
of  bis  father  had  been  nuns,  and  this  domestic  tie  **^"^^' 
naturally  increased  his  interest  and  enlightened  his  vigilance 
in  respect  to  communities  of  virgins  consecrated  to  God.     A 
decree  of  his  predecessor,  Leo  I.,  in  conformity  with  several 

159  '«  Multi  hominum  stulti  .  .  .  putaverunt  .  .  .  te  alloqui  etperepistolas 
frequentare  recusarem.  ...  In  quo  habitu  fueris  recolis  ...  ad  quid  sia 
delapsus  agnoscis.  .  .  .  Seio  quia  cum  epistola  mea  suscipitur,  protinus 
amici  conveniuut,  literati  clientes  vocantur.  .  .  .  Consiliarium,  rogo,  me 
suscipe.  .  .  .  Quidquid  omnibus  fieri  salubriter  placet,  ego  in  nuUo  contra- 
dico."  —  Epist.,  i.  34. 

'^^  Epist.,  ix.  123. 

'«'  "  DulcissimEe  filiae."  —  Epist.,  xi.  35,  36,  78. 

'®^  Epist.,  iv.  9;  V.  6,  24.  There  were  from  the  first  nuns  of  several 
kinds ;  most  of  them  lived  in  communities,  but  others  were  solitary  recluses, 
or,  indeed,  lived  in  their  families,  wearing  the  veil :  various  errors  resulted 
from  these  two  last  methods,  to  which  the  popes  and  councils  put  an  end.  la 
his  Dialogues  St.  Gregory  speaks  of  several  holy  nuns,  entitling  them  ^wci7Za. 
Christi,  Deo  devota,  confessa,  reclusa ;  he  gives  them  also  the  name  of 
monialis,  which  was  afterwards  the  term  generally  used. 

The  three  aunts  of  St.  Gregory  were  nuns  of  some  domestic  order;  he 
speaks  of  them  thus  :  "  Tres  pater  mens  sorores  habuit,  quae  cunctae  tres 
sacrae  virgines  fuerunt  .  .  .  uno  omnes  ardore  conversae,  uno  eodemque 
tempore  sacratae,  sub  districtione  regular!  degentes,  in  domo  propria  socialem 
vitam  ducebant."  —  Horn.  38,  in  Evang. 

34* 


402  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

ancient  councils,  and  confirmed  by  a  law  of  the  Emperor 
Majorian  in  458.  had  ordained  that  nuns  should  not  receive 
the  veil  and  the  solemn  benediction  without  a  novitiate  which 
lasted  up  to  their  fortieth  year.^^^  Gregory  ordained  that 
the  abbesses,  chosen  by  the  communities,  should  be  at  least 
sixty,  and  should  possess  an  irreproachable  reputation.!'^'* 
His  paternal  generosity  provided  for  the  necessities  of  the 
nuns  who  had  taken  refuge  at  Rome  from  the  ruined  monas- 
teries of  Italy,  to  the  number  of  three  thousand,  and  who 
sulFered  much  from  the  cold  during  the  hard  winter  of  597, 
leading  all  the  while  a  most  edifying  life.  ''  Rome  owes  to 
their  prayers,  their  tears,  and  fasts,"  he  wrote  to  the  sister 
of  the  Emperor  Maurice,  "  its  deliverance  from  the  swords 
of  the  Lombards."  !^^ 

He  pro-  ^^  ^^^^  been  already  seen  with  what  rigor  he  pur- 

scribes  the  sued,  as  abbot  among  the  Religious,  that  offence 
pecuiaiiy.  ^j^j^j^  jjionf^stic  phraseology  called  peculiarite,  or 
the  vice  of  personal  property.  As  pope,  he  displayed  the 
same  severity.  He  refused  to  confirm  the  election  of  an 
abbot  whom  he  knew  to  be  stained  with  this  vice.  "  I  know 
that  he  loves  property,"  he  wrote,  '*  which  shows  that  he  has 
not  the  heart  of  a  monk.  ...  If  this  love  existed  among  us, 
there  vv^ould  be  neither  concord  nor  charity.  What  is  monas- 
tic life,  if  not  contempt  of  the  world  ?  and  how  can  we  say 
that  we  depise  the  world  if  we  seek  its  gain?"!*^^-  The 
monks  were  debarred  from  making  wills,  as  well  as  from  pos- 
sessing property  of  their  own.  In  a  council  held  at  Rome  in 
600,  the  abbot  Probus,  who  had  succeeded  Gregory  as 
superior  of  the  monastery  of  St.  Andrea,  obtained,  by  special 
grace,  the  power  of  making  his  will  in  favor  of  his  son,  and 
that  only  in  consequence  of  the  pope's  declaration  that,  being 
a  mere  recluse,  he  had  been,  in  spite  of  himself,  made  abbot 
of  a  monastery  in  which  he  was  not  even  a  monk,  without 
time  being  given  him  to  dispose  of  his  possessions  before 
entering. 

He  watches  The  legitimacy  and  sincerity  of  religious  vocations 
sin'ceHty  of  ^^^  ^^^^^  further  the  object  of  Gregory's  special 
vociuions.     vigilance.     It  is  evident  irom  his  writings  that  he 

'**  Tliese  decrees  only  applied  to  the  benediction  or  solemn  profession,  and 
did  not  prevent  young  girls  from  consecrating  their  virginity  to  God  from  in- 
fancy, as  lias  been  proved  by  a  multitude  of  examples.  This  question  has 
been  thoroughly  discussed  by  Tuomassin,  Vetus  et  Nova  Ecclesice  Disciplina, 
pars  i.  lib.  3,  c.  68. 

^^^  Epist  ,  iv.  11.  '6*  Ibid.,  vii.  26. 

'66  14  Cognovi  quod  peculiaritati  studeat,  quae  res  maxime  testatur  eum  coi 
monachi  non  habere."  —  Epist.  xii.  21:. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  403 

had  particularly  studied  the  condilions  proper  to  enlighten 
and  decide  Christians  upon  their  spiritual  vocation.  In 
religious  life  itself,  he  would  have  none  give  himself  up  to  a 
life  of  contemplation  tmtil  he  had  been  long  and  seriously 
tried  in  active  life.  '*  In  order,"  he  said,  "  to  attain  the  citadel 
of  contemplation,  you  must  begin  by  exercising  yourself  in 
the  field  of  labor."  He  insists  at  length  upon  the  dangers  of 
contemplative  life  for  unquiet  and  presumptuous  minds,  who 
run  the  risk,  by  pride,  of  aspiring  to  surpass  the  powers  of 
intellect,  and  of  leading  the  weak  astray,  while  they  wan- 
dered astray  themselves.  "Whoever,"  he  adds,  "would 
devote  himself  to  contemplation  ouglit  necessarily  to  exam- 
ine himself  thoroughly,  to  ascertain  to  what  point  he  can 
love.  For  it  is  love  which  is  the  lever  of  the  soul.  This 
alone  can  raise  it  up,  and,  snatching  it  from  the  world,  give 
it  full  power  of  'vving,  and  make  it  soar  into  the  skies."  ^'°'' 

This  intelligent  study  of  the  moral  and  internal  life  of  the 
Religious  rendered  him  only  more  attentive  to  the  means  by 
which  the  always  increasing  population  of  the  monasteries 
was  kept  up.  He  enjoined  a  married  man,  who  had  become 
a  monk  in  a  Sicilian  convent  without  the  consent  and  simul- 
taneous conversion  of  his  wife,  to  return  to  her,  marking 
thus,  in  his  letter,  the  difference  between  divine  and  human 
laws  concerning  the  indissolubility  of  marriage. ^^^  He  doubles 
He  forbade  the  superiors  to  give  the  monks  the  ton-  ot'the"no-^ 
sure — that  is,  to  receive  them  tinally  into  the  mo-  vitiate. 
nastic  order — before  they  had  proved  their  conversion  by  a 
two  3'ears'  novitiate  :  this  was  a  year  more  than  St.  Benedict 
had  iixed.^''^  He  was  especially  desirous  that  this  serious 
novitiate,  during  which  the  lay  dress  was  still  worn,  should 
try  the  disposition  of  the  multitude  of  laymen,  and  above  all, 
of  slaves,  belonging  either  to  the  Church  or  to  secular  mas- 
ters, who  sought  an  asylum  in  the  monasteries,  in  order  to 
change  human  servitude  for  the  service  of  God.  In  the  pre- 
amble  of  the  decree  which  dealt  with  this  matter  in  the 
Council  at  Rome  in  595,  it  is  said,  "  If  we  allow  this  to  go 
on,  all  the  lands  of  the  Church  will  be  abandoned  ;  and  if  we 
repulse  them  without  examination,  we  take  away  something 
from  God  who  has  given  us  all.     It  is  necessary,  then,  that 

167  44  j[ecesse  est  ut  quisquis  ad  contemplationem  studia  properat  se  nie- 
tipsum  subtiliter  interroget,  quantum  amat.  Machina  quippe  mentis  est  vis 
amoris  :  quae  banc  dum  a  mundo  extrahit,  in  alta  sustoUit." —  Moralia,  liv. 
vi.  e.  37. 

'«*  Epist.,  xi.  60.  '8'  Hid.,  x.  24. 


404  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

he  who  would  give  himself  to  God  should  first  be  tried  in  hia 
secular  dress,  in  order  that,  if  his  conduct  shows  the  sincerity 
of  his  desire,  he  may  be  freed  from  the  servitude  of  man  to 
embrace  a  more  rigorous  service."  ^'^  Slaves  could  become 
monks,  according  to  a  law  of  Justinian,  without  the  consent 
of  their  masters,  but  had  to  be  enfranchised  by  payment  of 
their  value  :  the  slave  who  had  become  a  monk,  and  showed 
himself  unfaithful  to  his  new  vocation,  ran  the  risk  of  being 
Bent  back  to  his  former  master.^'i 

In  all  this  vast  correspondence,  by  which  Gregory  in  a 
nsanner  took  possession  of  the  West  for  the  papacy,  I  know 
not  a  more  touching  letter  than  one  which  he  addressed  to 
the  sub-deacon  of  the  Roman  Church  in  Campania,  on  the 
subject  of  a  young  slave  who  was  desirous  of  becoming  a 
Theyounn-  ^^"'  "I  Understand  that  the  defensor  Felix  pos- 
piaveca-"  sosscs  a  youug  woman  called  Catella,  who  seeks 
with  tears  and  vehement  desire  to  take  the  veil,  but 
whose  master  will  not  permit  her  to  assume  it.  Now,  I  de- 
sire that  you  go  to  Felix  and  demand  of  him  the  soul  of  this 
girl :  you  shall  pay  him  the  price  he  wants,  and  send  hei 
here  under  the  charge  of  competent  persons,  who  will  con- 
duct her  to  a  monasteiw.  And  do  it  speedily,  that  your  delay 
may  not  put  this  soul  in  danger."  ^'^ 

His  exertions  for  the  propagation  of  the  Benedic- 
iounda-  tine  Order  were  powerful  and  perpetual.  He  de- 
^'°"®"        voted  a  portion  of  the  patrimony  of  the  Church  to 

170  u  Cum  ad  clericalem  professioneni  tam  ex  ecclesiastiea  quam  ex  saecu- 
lari  militia  quotidie  poeno  innumtTabilis  multitudo  conflueret,  nequaquam  eos 
ad  ecL'lesiastici  decoris  officium,  sed  ad  capieiulum  soluinmodo  monachicum 
propositum  .  .  .  suscipiendos  censebat."  —  Joax.  Diac,  ii.  16.  "  Multos 
de  ecclesiastiea  familia  seu  sasculari  militia  novimus  ad  omnipotentisDei  ser- 
vitium  festinare  ut  ab  liumana  scrvitute  liberi  in  divino  servitio  valoant  fa- 
miliarius  in  monasteriis  conversari.  .  .  .  Necesse  est  ut  quisquis  ex  juris 
ecclesiastici  vel  saecularis  militia3  servitute  Dei  ad  servitium  converti  desid- 
erat,  probetur  prius  in  laico  habitu,  et  si  mores  ejus  ...  in  monasterio,  ser- 
vire  permittatur,  ut  ab  luimano  servitio  liber  recedat  qui  in  divino  amore 
districtiorem  subire  appetit  servitutein." —  Epist.,  iv.  44,  ed.  Coletti  Append. 
V.  ed.  Bened.  Mabillon  {Ann.  Bened.,  lib.  viii.  c.  Gl),  Fleury  (lib.  35,  c. 
43),  and  Lau  (p.  236),  are  all  agreed  in  appl^^ing  the  terms  of  this  decree  to 
slaves.  Such  grave  authorities  must  be  respected :  yet.  in  recurring  to  the 
expressions  of  John  the  Deacon,  which  we  quote  above,  we  should  be 
tempted  to  believe  that  it  did  not  refer  to  those  who  fled  from  slavery  prop- 
erly so  called,  but  only  the  ordinary  service  of  the  Church  and  State,  or  of 
secular  life. 

'"  Epist.,  V.  c.  34. 

172  "  Volumus  ut  experientia  tua  prsefatum  Felicem  adeat,  atque  puellse 
ejusdem  animam  sollicite  requirat  .  .  .  pretium  ejusdem  puellas  suas  dom- 
ino praebeat.  .  .  .  Ita  vero  age,  ut  non  per  lentam  actionem  tuam."  —  Epist., 
iii.  40. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  405 

Found  new  monasteries  in  Italy.  He  erected  the  earliest  re 
ligibus  houses  in  the  island  of  Corsica.  He  confided  to  the 
monks  the  guardianship  and  service  of  several  ancient 
churches,  like  that  of  St.  Pancratius  at  Rome,  and  especially 
that  of  St.  Apollinaris  or  Classe,  near  Ravenna,  a  Abbey  of 
celebrated  and  sumptuous  basilica,  built  by  Justinian  ciasse.^ 
at  the  capital  of  the  Byzantine  and  Ostrogoth  government  in 
Italy,  upon  the  site  chosen  b}  Augustus  as  a  port  for  his 
fleets  in  the  Adriatic^'^  This  new  monastery,  destined  to 
become  one  of  the  principal  centres  of  monastic  life  in  Italy, 
received  from  Gregory  the  most  extended  privileges,  to  pro- 
tect it  against  the  encroachments  of  the  clergy  of  Ravenna, 
who  were  noted  for  their  readiness  to  invade  the  neighboring 
monasteries.  The  archbishop  of  Ravenna,  Marinian,  although 
he  had  himself  been  a  monk  with  Gregory,  and  was  his  old 
friend,  saw  with  displeasure  that  great  community  exempted 
from  liis  full  jurisdiction,  and  this  was  the  occasion  of  one 
of  the  disputes  which  disturbed  their  old  friendship.!'^ 

These  new  foundations  did  not  make  him  forget  Kei^jtiona 
the  old  homes  of  monastic  fervor.  He  congratulated  with  Le- 
the abbot  of  Lerins  on  the  satisflictory  account 
which  he  had  transmitted  by  his  legate  Augustine,  of  the 
regularity  and  unanimity  which  still  reigned  in  that  famous 
isle.  It  is  touching  to  see  the  apostle  of  England  acting  thus 
as  intermediary  between  the  great  pope  who  had  issued  from 
the  new  Benedictine  order,  and  the  most  illustrious  monastery 
of  ancient  Gaul ;  and  we  love  to  learn,  by  the  letter  of  St. 
Gregory,  that  his  paternal  heart  appreciated  the  alms  which 
came  from  Lerins  in  the  shape  of  dishes  and  spoons,  sent  by 
the  abbot  for  the  service  of  the  poor  in  Rome.^'^ 

He   extended  his  protection  to  the  monks  in  the     ^^j^,^  ^^^^ 
East  as  well  as  in  the  West.     In  the  beginning  of     monks  of 

. ,.  1         •     ,       (•         T        • ,  1  1  Isauna, 

his  pontihcate,  he  interfered  with  energy  and  per- 
severance between  the  patriarch  of  Constantinople  and  an 
abbot  of  the  mountains  of  Isauria,  in  Asia  Minor,  who  was 
accused  of  heresy,  and  whom  the  patriarch  had  caused  to  be 
beaten  in  one  of  the  churches  of  the  imperial  city.  Through 
this  prolonged  contest,  he  maintained,  with  his  u-ual  con- 
stancy, the  observance  of  canons  and  the  rights  of  innocence, 
which  were  equally  outraged  by  the  haughty  rival  of  Roman 
supremacy .i^*^     He  gave  to  another  abbot  of  Isauria  a  grant 

'"  Fabbri,  Memor.  di  Ravenna,  pp,  103,  IIB,  339. 
"■»  Epist.,  vi   29. 

'''*  "  Cochleares  et  ciroulos."  —  Epist.,  vi.  56. 
'"  Epist.,  hi.  53;  vi.  (JG;  vii.  34. 


406  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

from  the  revenues  of  the  Roman  Church  more  considerable 
than  he  asked,  to  reheve  the  necessities  of  his  distant  mon- 
astery .i'"'  He  sent  beds  and  clotliing  to  St.  John  CHmachus, 
abbot  of  Mount  Sinai,  for  the  pilgrims  who  sought  that  sanc- 
tuaiy.i^^  He  sent  monks  from  his  own  convent  in  Rome  to 
(Vniiof  Jerusalem,  to  found  a  hospital  there.  The  rule  of 
Jerusalem,  g^^  Benedict,  carried  thus  upon  the  wings  of  charity, 
penetrated  into  the  East,  and  established  itself  amid  the  sons 
of  Basil  to  await  the  Crusaders. ^'^ 

In  his  great  correspondence  he  never  ceased  to  extol  and 
iij always  isgi'st  mouastic  life.  Overwhelmed  with  cares,  la- 
rcg-rctted  bors,  and  struggles,  his  thoughts  always  returned  to 
monastic  the  happy  da^'S  which  he  had  passed  under  the  Ben- 
''*'^'  edictine  frock.     "I  sailed  before  the  wind,"  he  wrote 

to  his  friend  St.  Leander,  bishop  of  Seville,  "  when  I  led  a 
tranquil  life  in  the  cloister  :  now  the  tempest  has  seized  me  ; 
I  have  lost  my  course  ;  my  mind  has  made  shipwreck. 
Beaten  by  the  waves,  I  seek  the  plank  of  your  intercession 
for  me,  in  order  that,  not  being  worthy  to  return  rich  with 
my  ship  safe  and  sound  into  port,  1  may  at  least  struggle  to 
And  sur-  shorc  by  that  plank."  ^^^  He  indemnified  himself  as 
roimrted  he  best  could,  by  surrounding  himself  with  his  former 
with  bretliren  ;  and   procured  a  decree  for  that  purpose 

monks.  f^om  the  council  held  at  Rome  in  595,  that  the  lay 
and  secular  officers  who  rendered  private  service  to  the  popes 
should  be  replaced  by  clerical  attendants,  and  even  by  monks, 
chosen  with  care,  to  be  witnesses  of  his  entire  life.  With 
those  whom  he  had  thus  procured  to  be  the  familiar  compan- 
ions of  his  privacy,  he  applied  himself  to  follow  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, in  his  studies,  occupations,  and  daily  and  nightly 
prayers,  the  customs  of  a  monastery  ;  so  that  the  pontifical 
palace  ofi'ered  a  picture  of  that  church  of  the  apostolical 
times  of  wliich  monastic  life  was  the  most  faithful  image.^^^ 

Most  of  the  monks  whom  he  thus  associated  with  his 
daily  labors  were  drawn  from  his  old  monastery  of  St.  An- 

'"  Epist.,  V.  3S.  '"  Ibid.,  xi.  1. 

'"  Joan.  Diac,  ii.  52. 

'^"  '•  Quasi  pruspc'i-u  vento  navigabixm.  .  .  .  Saltern  post  damna  ad  littus 
per  tabulani  rcducar."  —  Epist.,  ix.  121. 

181  I.  i^iyjfiotis  a  suo  cuhicuio  ssecuhiribus,  clericos  ibi  prudentissimos  con- 
eiliaros  faniiliaresquf  de-icgit,  .  .  .  monaclioruni  vero  sanctissinios  sibi  faniil- 
iures  elegit.  .  .  .  Cum  quibus  die  noctuque  versatus  nihil  nioiiasticas 
p'Tieoti  mis  in  palatio,  nihil  pontificalis  institutionis  in  Ecclesia  dereliquit. 
.  .  .  Cum  eruditistiiiiiis  olericis  religiosi.-isimi  inonachi.  .  .  .  Talem  eccle- 
siani  Komanam  exhibuii  qualis  prima  sub  Apustolis  fuit."  —  Joan.  Diac, 
ii.  12. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  407 

drea,  in  the  inhabitants  of  whicli  he  had  always  an  affection- 
ate  confidence.     He  promoted  several  to  the  epiaco-  Hemr.de 
pate,  the  most  notable  of  whom  were  Maximin   and   ^°^|'^'°^ 
Marinian,^^^  whom    he    made    archbishops  —  one    in   bishops 


S 


and  k'i'atcs. 


Mcily,  the  other  at  Ravenna  ;  and  afterwards  Au- 
gustine, who  was  the  apostle  and  first  metropolitan  of  Eng- 
land. He  loved  to  employ  them  as  his.legates,  and  to  make 
them  his  representatives  with  princes  whose  alliance  he 
sought  in  the  interests  of  the  Church.  Probus,  whom  we 
have  already  mentioned,  and  who  succeeded  him  as  abbot  of 
St.  Andrea,  established  peace  between  the  King  of  the  Lom- 
bards and  the  exarch  of  Ravenna  ;  and  Cyriac,  who  suc- 
(ieeded  Probus  in  the  government  of  the  same  abbey,  was 
successively  sent,  as  legate  in  Sardinia,  to  preach  the  faith  to 
the  unbelievers,  and  to  Queen  Brunehaut  in  Burgundy,  and 
King  Reoarede  in  Spain,  to  root  out  simony,  and  the  intru- 
sion of  laymen  into  the  episcopate.  The  pope  was  not  always 
equally  fortunate  in  the  bestowal  of  his  confidence:  witness 
that  Greek  monk,  Andrew,  who  served  as  his  interpreter  in 
his  correspondence  with  the  Eastern  bishops  (for  Gregory 
knew  no  Greek),  and  who  bad  to  be  punished  for  falsifying 
his  translations,  and  attributing  to  the  pontiff  expressions 
which  he  had  never  used.^^^ 

Surrounded  and  assisted  by  his  dear  companions    His  aims 
of  old,  Gregory   brought   from   his   monastery   into  ^^'i^J^-'P'- 
the  exercise  of  the  sovereign  pontificate  that  prodi-  worthy  of 
galit}'  of  alms  and  unwearied  solicitude  for  the  poor   mouastic 
which  he  had  learned  and  long  practised  at  St.  An-  '''^• 
drea.     He  invited  twelve  poor  pilgrims  to  his  table  e\^ery 
day,  and   served    them,  after  having  washed   their  hands  or 
their  feet,  as  he   was  accustomed   to  do  while   an   abbot.^^* 
Every  month  he  distributed  to  his  poor,  according  to  the  sea- 
son, corn,  wine,  cheese,  vegetables,  fish,  and  oil ;  adding  per- 
fumes and  other  more  delicate  presents  for  the  considerable 
people  of  the  town,  so  as  to  make  them  regard  the  Church  as 
the   storehouse  of  the  world.^so     jj^  organized  the   regular 

•**  Marinian,  who  had  long  lived  in  the  same  monastery  with  Gregory,  was 
elected,  in  spite  of  his  own  reluctaure,  and  despairing  of  success,  by  the 
people  of  Ravenna,  whose  two  previous  elections  the  pope  had  refused  to 
confirm.  Gregory  had,  in  the  end,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  to  reprimand 
and  oppose  his  old  friend. 

>«3  Epist.,  vii.  32;  xi.  74. 

»8*  Joan.  Diac,  ii.  22.  23. 

1"**  "  Ita  ut  nihil  aliud  quam  communia  qusedam  horrea  communis  puta^ 
retur  Ecclesia."  —  Ibid.,  26. 


4:08  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

service  of  charity  in  Rome  with  wise  zeal ;  and  carriages 
traversed  the  various  quarters  and  streets  daily,  carrying 
help  to  the  sick  poor  and  those  who  were  ashamed  to  beg ;  ^^^ 
to  the  latter  he  t^ent  dishes  from  his  own  table,  which  he 
blessed  for  the  use  of  his  poor  friends,  before  he  touched  his 
own  repast.  Two  centuries  after  his  death,  the  voluminous 
list  of  the  poor  who  shared  his  alms  in  Rome,  and  also  in  the 
surj-ounding  towns  and  on  the  coast,  was  still  preserved.^^' 
A  beggar  having  been  found  dead,  in  a  distant  quarter  of 
the  town,  he  feared  that  the  unfortunate  man  had  died  of 
famine,  and,  reproaching  himself  with  having  been  his  mur- 
derer, he  abstained  for  several  days  from  celebrating  mass.^ss 
His  great  This  Spirit,  SO  Sensitive  to  the   griefs  of  others, 

Buffenu^'s.  ^jjg  itself  a  prey  to  the  most  painful  infirmities.  The 
gout  made  the  last  years  of  his  life  a  kind  of  martyrdom.  The 
Last  letters  cry  of  pain  appears  in  m.any  of  his  letters.  "  For 
ship  and'  nearly  two  3^ears,"  he  wrote  to  the  patriarch  of  Alex- 
sadness,  andria,  "I  have  been  in)prisoned  to  my  bed  by  such 
pangs  of  gout  that  I  can  scarcely  rise  for  two  or  three 
hours  on  great  holidays  to  celebrate  solemn  mass.  And  the 
intensity  of  the  pain  compels  me  immediately  to  lie  down 
again,  that  I  may  be  able  to  endure  my  torture,  by  giving 
free  course  to  my  groans.  .  .  .  My  illness  will  neither  leave 
me  nor  kill  me.  I  entreat  your  holiness  to  pray  for  me,  that 
I  may  be  soon  delivered,  and  receive  that  freedom  which  you 
know,  and  which  is  the  glory  of  the  children  of  God."  1^9  t^q 
a  pious  patrician  lady,  whom  he  forbade  to  call  herself  his 
servant,  and  who  suffered  from  the  same  malady :  "  My 
bod}',"  he  said,  "■  is  wasted  as  if  it  was  already  in  the  coffin  ; 
I  cannot  leave  my  bed.  If  gout  can  reduce  to  such  a  point 
the  corpulent  mass  you  have  known  me,  how  shall  it  fare 
with  3^our  always  attenuated  frame?  "  ^^^  And  finall}',  to  his 
former  brother,  the  archbishop  of  Ravenna :  *'  For  a  long 
time  I  have  ceased  to  get  up;  sometimes  I  am  tortured 
by  the   gout,  sometimes   a  kind   of  burning   pain    spreads 

'^^  "  Quotidianis  dicbus  per  omnes  regionum  vicos,  vel  compita  .  .  .  per 
constitutos  veredarios.  .  .  .  Verecundionbus  .  .  ostiatim  dirigere  curabat 
scutellam."  —  Joan.  Diac,  ii.  28. 

187  i.  i^i-jegrande  volumen." —  Ibid. 

'"«  Ibid. 

'^'  "  Ut  cruciatum  meuin  possim  interrumpente  geraitu  tolerare.  ...  In 
illam  quam  bene  nostis  libertatem  glorias  filiorum  Dei."  —  Epist.,  xi.  32. 

'^'^  "  Quern  qualis  fuerim  nostis.  ...  Si  ergo  mei  moleai  corporis,  .  .  . 
quid  de  vestro  corpore  sentiam,  quod  nimis  siccum  ante  dolores  fuit  ?  " — 
Epist.,  xi.  44. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  409 

over  all  my  body,  and  takes  all  courage  from  me.  .  ,  . 
I  say,  in  a  word,  I  am  infected  with  this  pernicious  liumor  to 
sucli  an  extent,  that  life  is  a  burden  to  me,  and  that  I  wait 
for  and  desire  death  as  the  sole  remedy.  Provided  only  that 
my  sins,  which  these  pano-s  ought  to  purify,  be  not  aggra- 
vated by  my  murmurs  !  "  ^'-^^ 

His  own  sutfering  did  not  render  him  less  attentive  to  the 
misery  of  his  neighbor.  From  his  bed  of  pain  he  wrote  to 
the  same  Marinian,  his  old  friend  and  companion  in  monastic 
life  :  "  A  man  from  Ravenna  has  plunged  me  into  grief  by 
telhng  me  that  you  were  attacked  by  blood-spitting.  We 
have  consulted  all  the  physicians  with  the  greatest  care  upon 
your  case,  and  transmit  to  you  what  they  say.  Silence  and 
repose  are  necessary  to  you  above  everything ;  you  will 
scarcely  find  them  in  your  metropolis.  .  .  .  You  must  come 
to  me  before  the  summer,  in  order  that  I,  helpless  though  I 
am,  ma}'  specially  watch  your  illness,  and  be  the  guardian  of 
your  repose,  for  the  doctors  say  that  the  danger  is  specially 
great  in  summer.  ...  It  is  very  important  that  you  should 
return  to  your  church  cured.  And  then  for  myself,  who  am 
so  near  death,  if  God  call  me  before  thee,  I  would  die  in 
thine  arms.  ...  If  thou  comest,  come  with  few  servants,  for 
thou  shalt  lodge  in  ray  palace,  and  the  people  of  this  Church 
will  serve  thee."  ^°^ 

^'Itis  fine,"  says  one  of  our  contemporaries  who  knows 
the  secrets  of  sanctity  and  charity,  "  to  see  an  existence  so 
short  and  troubled  suffice  for  such  works.  We  love  to  find 
human  weakness  in  great  men.  Antique  heroism  is  made  of 
marble  and  bronze  ;  we  admire,  but  we  do  not  imitate  it.  But 
Christianity  has  put  the  souls  of  heroes  in  hearts  of  flesh.  It 
destroys  nothing  of  the  innocent  weakness  of  nature;  it  finds 
its  strength  there.     Wo  are  not  made  of  stone."  ^^^ 

Amid  these  insupportable  sufferings,  and  up  to  his  last 
moments,  he  continued  with  unwearied  activity  to  dictate  his 
correspondence,  and  to  concern  himself  with  the  interests  of 
the  Church  and  of  monasteries.  One  of  his  last  epistles  was 
to  solicit  the  punishment  of  a  soldier  who  had  seduced  a 

'3'  Bpist.,  xi.  32. 

192  4  1  Vcnieiite  quodam  Ravennate  lioiiiine.  .  .  .  Sollicite  et  singillatim  eos 
quos  hie  doctus  leclione  novinius  medicos  tcnuimus  inquiri  .  .  .  ut  .  .  .  ego 
.  .  .  in  quantum  valco,  quietem  tuam  custodiam.  .  .  .  Ipse  valde  sum  de- 
bills.  .  .  .  Inter  tuas  manus  transire  debeam  .  .  .  cum  paucis  tibi  venien- 
dum  est,  quia  mcciun  in  episcopio  manens."  —  Epist.,  xi.  33. 

'^^  OzANAM,  unpublished  fragment. 

VOL.  I.  35 


410  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

nun.^^'^  He  died  on  the  12th  March  604,  a<rod  near 
\y  fifty-five,  in  the  thirteenth  j'ear  of  his  pontificate. 
He  was  buried  in  St.  Peter's ;  and  in  the  epitaph  engraved 
on  his  tomb,  it  is  said,  that "  after  having  conformed  all  his 
actions  to  his  doctrine,  the  consul  of  God  went  to  enjoy  eter- 
nal triumph."  195 

lao-rati-  ^^  had,  like  so  many  other  great  hearts,  to  strug- 

tuleotthe  gle  with  ingratitude,  not  only  during  his  life,  but 
"*'  ■  after  his  death.  If  we  may, believe  his  biographer, 
Rome  was  afllicted  with  a  great  famine  under  his  successor 
Sal)inian,  who  put  an  end  to  the  charities  which  Gregory  had 
granted  to  the  poor,  on  the  plea  that  there  was  nothing  re- 
maining in  the  treasury  of  the  Church.  The  enemies  of  the 
deceased  pope  then  excited  the  people  against  him,  calling 
him  the  prodigal  and  waster  of  Roman  patrimony  ;  and  that 
ungrateful  people,  whom  he  had  loved  and  helped  so  much, 
began  to  burn  his  writings,  as  if  to  annihilate  or  dishonor  his 
memory.  But  one  of  the  monks  who  had  followed  liirn  from 
the  monastery  to  the  pontifical  palace,  his  friend,  the  deacon 
Peter,  interposed.  He  represented  to  the  incendiaries  that 
these  writings  were  already  spread  through  the  entire  world, 
and  that  it  was,  besides,  sacrilege  to  burn  the  work  of  a  holy 
doctor,  upon  whom  he  swore  he  had  himself  seen  the  Holy 
Spirit  hovering  under  the  form  of  a  dove.^^''  And  as  if  to 
confirm  his  oath,  after  having  ended  his  address,  he  breathed 
forth  his  last  sigh,  a  valiant  witness  of  truth  and  friendship.^^^ 
jjgjg  Prosperity  has   sufficiently  avenged   Gregory   of 

avenged  by  that  wroug.  In  him  it  has  recognized  a  man  whose 
pos  en  y.  ^.^^^^q  gta^^dg  Qut  like  a  pharos  in  the  night  of  the 
past.  The  highest  personification  of  that  papac}'  which 
neglected  no  exertions  to  save  the  East,  and  which  vivified 
the  West  by  delivering  it  from  the  Byzantine  yoke,  is  found 
in  him.  The  judgment  of  St.  lldefonso,  who  was  almost  his 
contemporary,  and  who  declared  that  he  was  greater  than 
Anthony  in  sanctity,  Cyprian  in  eloquence,  and  Augustine  in 
knowledge,  has  been  repeated  by  posterity.^^^ 

Bossuet  has  summed  up  his  life  with  that  terseness  which 

"*  Spist.,  xiv.  10. 

195  a  implebatque  actu  quidquid  sennone  docebat.  ... 
His^ue,  Dei  consul  factus,  lastare  triumphis, 
Nam  niereedein  openiin  jam  sine  fine  tenes." 
'^'  Thence  the  custom,  in  art,  during  the  middle  ages,  of  always  repre- 
eenting  St.  Gregory  with  a  dove  wliispering  to  liim. 

'*''  "Confessor  veritatis   meruit  sepeliri." — Joan.  Diac,  vl.  69.      Com- 
pare Paul.  Diac,    Vit.  Greg.,  c.  2'1.  ***  Be  Vir.  lllustr.,  c.  I. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  411 

includes  everything,  and  which  belongs  only  to  himself, 
"  This  great  pope  .  .  .  subdued  the  Lombards  ;  saved  Rome 
and  Italy,  though  the  emperors  could  give  him  no  assistance ; 
repressed  the  new-born  pride  of  the  patriarchs  of  Constan- 
tinople ;  enlightened  the  whole  Church  by  his  doctrine ; 
governed  the  East  and  the  West  with  as  much  vigor  as 
humility;  and  gave  to  the  world  a  perfect  model  of  ecclesias- 
tical government." 

Let  us,  however,  add  and  repeat,  to  justify  ourselves  for 
lingering  thus  upon  his  pontificate,  that  he  was  the  restorer 
of  monastic  discipline,  the  protector,  propagator,  and  legis- 
lator of  the  monks  of  the  West;  that  he  had  nothing  more  at 
heart  than  the  mterests  of  monastic  life;  hnally,  that  it  was 
the  Benedictine  order  which  gave  to  the  Clmrch  him  whom 
no  one  would  have  hesitated  to  call  the  greatest  of  the  popes, 
had  not  the  same  order,  five  centuries  later,  produced  St. 
Gregory  VII, 

The  human  race,  in  its  weakness  and  folly,  has  His  true 
always  decreed  the  highest  place  in  its  admiration  grandeur. 
to  conquerors,  governors  of  nations,  and  masters  of  the  world, 
who  have  done  great  things,  but  who  have  done  them  only 
by  great  means,  with  a  fi-ightful  expense  of  men,  money,  and 
falsehood,  trampling  laws,  morality,  and  sworn  faith  under 
foot.  A  detestable  error,  which  renders  the  ignorant  and 
innocent  involuntary  accomplices  of  all  these  startling  crimes, 
the  applauses  of  which  tliey  echo  from  one  to  the  other.  The 
merit  of  success  is  small  when  the  conqueror  shrinks  at  noth- 
ing, and  recoils  from  no  sacrifice  of  life,  virtue,  or  truth. 
Even  in  its  human  aspect,  supreme  greatness  is  not  there. 
That  consists  in  working  great  results  by  small  means,  in 
triumphing  over  strength  by  weakness,  and  especially  in  sur- 
mounting obstacles  and  vanquishing  adversaiies  with  a 
respect  for  law,  virtue,  and  truth.  This  is  what  Gregory 
desired  and  what  he  accomplished.  He  is  truly  Gregory 
the  Great,  because  he  issued  irreproachable  from  numberless 
and  boundless  difficulties;  because  he  gave  as  a  foundation 
to  the  increasing  grandeur  of  the  Holy  See,  renown  of  his 
virtue,  the  candor  of  his  innocence,  the  humble  and  inex- 
haustible tenderness  of  his  heart. 


III. —  THE   MONKS  IN  SPAIN. 

We  shall  shortly  be  calkd  upon  to  exhibit  the  all-powerful 
influence  of  St.  Gregory,  as  pope  and  monk,  upon  the  great 


412  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

and  celebrated  island  which  owes  to  him  its  final  conversion 
to  the  Christian  faith  ;  but  at  present  it  is  fit  that  we  should 
cast  a  glance  upon  another  country,  the  destinies  of  the 
Church  and  monastic  order  in  which  are  also  connected, 
though  less  directly,  with  his  memory.  Let  us  cross  Spain 
before  we  reach  England. 

During  the  time  of  his  residence  as  nuncio  at  Constanti- 
nople, towards  the  year  580,  Gregory,  as  has  been  seen,  met 
with  a  Spanish  monk  called  Leander,  who  was  honored  by  the 
double  consecration  of  the  bishopric  and  exile. 
Spain  con-  Spain,  from  the  time  of  the  great  invasion  of  the 
uie  Ariau  Roman  empire  by  the  Germanic  races,  had  been 
Visigoths,  shared  among  the  Sueves,  Alans,  and  Vandals,  and 
had  finally  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Visigoths,  who  had  foi 
two  centuries  established  themselves  there,  and  who  were 
now,  by  union  with  the  kingdom  of  the  Sueves  in  585,  its 
sole  masters.  These  Visigoths  Avere  considered  the  least 
barbarous  of  the  Bai'barians.  They  certainl}^  conld  appreciate 
and  respect  better  than  the  others  the  work  of  Roman  and 
Christian  civilization,  in  those  regions  from  whence  Seneca 
and  Lucan,  Quintillian  and  Silius,  had  thrown  so  much  lustre 
on  the  decline  of  Roman  literature,  and  from  whence,  suc- 
ceeding many  illustrious  martyrs,  the  Fathers  of  the  Council 
of  Elvira,  such  as  the  great  bishop  Osius,  who  presided  at  the 
Council  of  Nica3a,  had  honored  and  consoled  the  Church  in  her 
decisive  struggles  against  imperial  persecution.  But  like  all 
the  Gothic  race,  like  Theodoric  and  the  other  successors  of 
Alaric,  the  Visigoths  had  received  Christianity  only  through 
the  channel  of  Arianisra  ;  through  their  means  Spain  was  now 
overrun  by  it.  This  was  the  scourge  from  which  she  was 
delivered  by  the  monk  of  Seville,  the  friend  of  Gregory. 
Monastic  Howovcr,  bcforc  the  time  of  Gregory  and  Lean- 

iiegiiiniiigs    dcr,  and  even  before  St.  Benedict,  Christian  Spain 

pam.  j_^^^_j  already  become  acquainted  with  the  monastic 
order,  and  found  in  it  a  precious  succor  against  the  Arianism 
of  her  conquerors.  Authorities  are  not  agreed  upon  the  pre- 
cise date  of  its  introduction  into  the  Iberian  peninsula. ^^^ 
According  to  some,  it  was  the  African  St.  Donatus  who,  fly- 
ing with  seventy  monks  from  the  Barbarians,  was  received 
in  Valentia  by  a  noble  lady  called  Minicea,  and  founded,  with 

'**  The  work  entitled,  Vindicice  Antiquitatum  Monasticarmn  Hispamce 
adv.  Caiet.  Cenniiim,  Opera.  D.  Gabr.  Mar.  Scarmallii,  Abbat.  SS-  Flor.  et 
Liicill,  Arrettii,  1752,  nniy  be  consulted  on  this  subject.  Scarmaglio  even 
quotes  a  decree  of  the  Council  of  Saragossa.  in  381,  w.'^ich  already  made 
mention  of  tlie  monks.  — Dissert,  ii.  c.  1,  No.  5. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  413 

her  help,  the  monastery  of  Servitanum,  the  most  ancient  in 
Spain.200  It  is  certain  that  every  province  and  canton  had 
soon  its  monastery.  The  mountains  which  stretched  from 
the  Pyrenees  towards  the  Ebro,  in  Biscay  and  Navarre,  were 
peopled  with  hermits  who  gradually  adopted  a  life  in  common, 
conforming  generally  to  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict.  It  st.Emiiian. 
was  professed -'^i  by  St.  Emilian,  who  was  one  of  the  — 
most  celebrated  aud  popular  monks  of  Spain.  At 
first  a  shepherd  in  the  mountains  of  La  Rioja,  in  Aragon,  lie 
led  his  flocks  to  the  wildest  gorges,  and,  charming  the  soli- 
tude by  the  sounds  of  his  guitar,  learned  to  open  his  soul  to 
celestial  harmonies.  He  became  a  hermit,  and  lived  thus 
for  forty  years ;  then  he  became  a  monk  and  abbot,  and  died 
a  centenarian  in  574,  after  having  startled  by  his  miracles  and 
austerities  the  two  nations,  the  Sueves  and  Visigoths,  who 
etill  disputed  the  possession  of  the  country .^''^ 

The  Sueves,  who  occupied  the  entire  north-east  of  Spain, 
and   who   were   much  attached  to   Arianism,  had  for  their 
apostle,  at  the   same  period,  a  monk  named  Martin,   st.  Martin 
born  in  Hungary,  like  his  famous  namesake,  St.  Mar-  °    ^es. 
tin  of  Tours.     He  introduced  the  rule  of  St.  Bene-        ^s°- 
diet  into  the  regions  which  are  now  Galicia  and  the  northern 
part  of  Portugal.     He  was  himself  the  abbot  of  Duraes,  at 
the  gates  of  the  metropolitan  city  of  Braga,  of  which  he  be- 
came bishop,  remaining  at  the  same  time  abbot  of  his  mon- 
astery .^*^^     By  his  writings,  his  virtues,  and  his  influence,  he 
led  back  the  greater  part  of  the  Sueve  nation  to  Catholic 
unity,  at  least  for  a  time,  and  until  the  new  persecution  which 
preceded  the  great  defeat  of  Arianism. 

200  jTrom  the  acts  of  the  Councils  of  516  and  524,  it  is  apparent  that  there 
had  been  monks  in  Spain  before  the  middle  of  the  sixth  century,  the  time 
generally  assigned  to  the  coming  of  St  Donatus.  Mabill.,  Prcef.  sac.  1. 
Bened.,  n.  23  and  72;  Ann.  Bened.,  lib.  iii.  c.  2G-37;  Bultead,  t.  i.  pp. 
305,  317.  According  to  others,  the  most  ancient  monastery  of  Spain  waa 
Asane,  near  Huesca,  in  Aragon,  founded  about  506,  and  of  which  St.  Victo- 
rian was  abbot  for  sixty  years.  Fortunatus  says  of  him,  in  his  epitaph  — 
"  Plurima  per  patriam  monachorum  examina  fundens, 
Floribus  asternis  mellificavit  apes." 

*"  Act.  SS.  O.  B-,  Prcef.  in  scec.  1,  §  74,  and  t.  i.  p.  197. 

'"'*  See  his  life  by  St.  Braulio,  bishop  of  Saragossa  in  the  seventh  century, 
ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  B.,  t.  i.  p.  197.  "  Minabat  oves  ad  interiora  montium.  .  .  . 
Citharam  vehebat,  ne  ad  greges  custodiam  torpor  impeditamentum."  —  Ibid., 
p.  200.  Tiie  monastery  founded  over  his  tomb,  and  called  San  Milan  of 
Cogolla,  became  one  of  the  most  important  in  Spain. 

""^  Dumes  was  erected  into  a  bishopric  in  562,  and  this  St.  Martin  died  ia 
680.  Gregory  of  Tours  makes  mention  of  him,  ffisi.,  v.  38,  undBe  Mirae, 
S.  Martini,  i.  11. 

35* 


414  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

But  the  victory  of  ortliodoxy  was  final,  and  the  extension 
of  the  Benedictine  order  became  a  great  fact  for  the  Churcli 
and  Spain,  only  under  the  pontificate  of  Greg;ory.  and  b}'  the 
preponderating  influence  of  an  illustrious  and  holy  family, 
the  first  glory  of  which  was  the  monk-bishop  Leander. 

Born  in  that  Andalusia  where  the  Vandals  had  fortunately 
St.  Leander  left  ouly  their  name,  Leander  was  the  son  of  a  duke, 
bishop'of  probably  of  Greco-Roman  race  2^  but  whose  eldest 
Seville,  daughter  married  Leuvigild,  the  king  of  the  Visi- 
g'lths.  He  embraced  monastic  life  early,  and  drew  from  it 
that  spirit  of  self-devotion  and  discipline,  which  gained  him 
the  honor  of  exercising  supreme  influence  over  the  future 
destiny  of  his  country.  He  was  a  monk  at  Seville  itself, 
which  had  been  up  to  that  time  the  capital  of  the  Visigoth 
kings,  and  of  which  he  became  metropolitan  bishop  in  579.^*^^ 
In  that  city  which  was  considered  the  holy  city,  the  Jerusa- 
lem of  the  south  of  Spain,  he  formed,  under  the  shadow  of 
School  of  liis  see,  a  school,  which  was  designed  to  extend  at 
Seville.  once  the  orthodox  faith  and  the  study  of  all  the  arts 
and  sciences.-'^'^  He  himself  presided  over  the  exercises  of 
the  learned  masters  and  numerous  pupils  whom  he  attracted 
to  it.  Among  these  pupils  were  the  two  sons  gf  the  king, 
his  own  nephews,  Hermenegild  and  Recarede.  He  succeeded 
in  winning  over  from  Arianism  the  elder  of  the  two,  and  his 
example  was  followed  b}''  many  others.  Hermenegijd  was 
confirmed  in  the  faith  of  Niccea  by  his  wife  Ingonde,  a  French 
princess  of  the  orthodox  race  of  Clovis,  the  daughter  of  King 
Sigebert,  and  of  the  celebrated  Brunehaut,  who  was  herself 
the  daughter  of  a  king  of  the  Visigoths.  The  young  Ingonde 
resisted  heroicall}^  the  brutal  violence  which  her  mother-in- 
law  employed  to  make  her  embrace  Arianism,  and  gave  thus 
to  her  husband  an  example  of  that  constancy  which  was 
afterwards  to  lead  him  to  martyrdom. 

Leuvigild,  in  transferring  the  capital  of  the  kingdom  of  the 
Persecu-  Visigoths  from  Seville  to  Toledo,  had  associated 
tionof  the  his  eldest  son  with  himself  in  the  government,  and 
unricrLcu-  assigucd  him  Seville  for  his  residence.  But  soon 
v»g»w-  persecution  arose,  and  Avith  it  civil  war.     Leuvigild 

""*  This  is  implied  in  his  name,  Severianus,  and  those  of  all  his  children : 
Leander,  Isidore,  Fulgentius,  Theodora,  Florentine.  The  Byzantine  em- 
perors had  still  some  possessions  in  Spain. 

^"^  He  was  also  bishop  for  some  time  of  St.  Claude  of  Leon,  in  the  north 
of  Spain.  — Yepes,  Cent.  Secund.     Compare  Act.  SS.  O.  B.,  t.  i.  p.  372. 

^"^  M.  I'Abbe  Bourret  published  in  1855  a  remarkable  thesis,  entitled 
L'Ecole  Chretienne  ds  Seville  sous  la  Monarchie  des  Visigoths, 


ST.  GIIEGORY  THE  GREAT.  415 

i&hrank  from  no  means  of  extending  heresy  ;  he  gained  over 
even  some  bishops,  and  condemned  to  prison  or  exile  those 
who,  like  Leander,  resisted  his  violence.  He  won  about  the 
same  time  the  crown  of  the  Sueves,  a  nation  then  scarcely 
restored  to  the  orthodox  faith,  and  carried  persecution  and 
all  its  terrors  among  them.  The  holy  abbot  Vincent  was  sac- 
rificed, with  twelve  of  his  monks,  before  the  door  of  his  own 
monastery  at  Leon,  for  refusing  to  deny  the  divinity  of  the 
Son  of  God,  as  set  forth  in  the  Nicaean  creed.^o^  His  tyranny 
respected  civil  liberty  no  more  than  liberty  of  conscience, 
and  the  Visigoth  nobility  no  more  than  the  conquered  na- 
tions ;  he  attacked  by  persecution,  exile,  and  torture,  all  the 
most  considerable  persons  in  his  kingdom.^^^  Leander,  de- 
scribing the  state  of  his  country  under  the  yoke  of  the  per- 
secutor, says,  that  a  man  truly  free  was  no  longer  to  be  seen, 
and  that,  by  a  just  judgment  of  God,  the  soil  itself,  taken 
from  its  lawful  proprietors,  had  lost  its  former  fertility .^^^ 
The  unnatural  father  ended  by  besieging  his  son  in  Martyrdom 
Seville.     The   young  king,  made  prisoner  alter  a   "f  Her- 

,  .  ■^         1      1  1  •         J  •  1  menegild. 

long  resistance,  and  obliged  to  receive  the  comraun-        — 
ion  from  the  hands  of  an  Arian  bisliop,  preferred  to 
die,  and  was  slain  in  his  prison,  on  Easter  eve  of  the  year  586. 
The  monasteries  which  already  existed  in  Spain  naturally 
suffered  much  in  that  war.     In  one  of  these,  dedi-  ^jj^ njonas- 
cated  to  St.  Martin,  and  situated  between  Sagonte  t^ryp^^t. 
and  Carthagena,  the  monks,  on  the  approach  of  the 
royal  army,  abandoned  their  old  abbot  and  took  flight,  with 
the  intention  of  concealing  themselves  in  an  island  of  the  sea. 
The   Goths  arrived,  and  sacked  the  defenceless  monastery, 
where  they  found  the  abbot  alone,  bowed  down  by  age,  but 
kejA  erect  by  virtue,  as  says  Gregory  of  Tours,  to  whom  we 
owe  the  tale.     One  of  them  drew  his  sword  to  kill  the  abbot, 

''"^  Yepes  attributes  this  martyrdom  to  a  king  of  the  Sueves,  and  places  it 
in  the  year  554 ;  but  Mabillon  agrees  with  Baronius  in  fixing  the  date  584, 
and  under  the  reign  of  Leuvigild.  Compare  Act.  SS.  O.  B.,  t.  i.  p.  287,  and 
Ann.  Bened..  lib.  vii.  c.  27. 

408  II  Exstitit  et  quibusdam  suarum  perniciosus.  Nam  vi  eupiditatis  et 
livoris,  quoscumque  pottntes  ac  nobiles  vidit,  aut  capita  damnavit,  aut  opibus 
ablatis  proscripsit."  —  S.  Isidori,  Chronic,  era  608.  Tlie  holy  historian 
adds  that  he  was  the  first  among  the  Visigoth  kings  who  affected  to  sit  on  a 
throne,  and  to  wear  a  royal  mantle.  "  Nam  ante  eum  et  habitus  et  consessus 
omnis  ut  genti,  ita  et  regibus  erat."  —  Ibid. 

209  "Ego  expertus  loquor,  sic  perdidisset  statura  et  speciem  illam  patriam, 
ut  nee  liber  quisquam  circa  supersit,  nee  terra  ipsa  solita  sit  ubertate  fecunda, 
et  non  sine  Dei  judicio.  Terra  enim  cui  eives  erepti  sunt  et  concessa  ex- 
traneo,  mox  ut  dignitatem  perdidit,  caruit  et  feconditate."  —  S.  Leandr.  ,  Di 
Instit.  Virgin.,  c.  ult. 


416  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

but,  as  he  was  about  to  strike,  fell  back  and  died.  At  this 
sight  the  others  fled.  Lenvigild  himself,  when  informed  of 
the  fact,  was  touched  by  it,  and  ordered  the  restitution  of 
everything  that  had  been  taken  from  the  monaster}^,  thus 
saved  by  the  courage  and  sanctity  of  the  old  abbot.^i^ 

It  was  during  this  struggle  between  father  and  son,  which 
lasted  several  years,  and  before  he  was  himself  exiled,  that 
Leander,  Loandcr  was  sent  by  Hermenegild  to  Constantinople 
constau*  ^^  ^laim  the  aid  of  tiie  Byzantine  emperors,  who 
tinopie,  had  still  retained  some  possessions  in  Spain,  with 
Gregory'  their  garrisous.  It  was  there  that  the  monk-bishop, 
there.  ^j^g   envoy  of  a  princely  martyr  to  orthodoxy,  met 

that  other  monk  set  apart  for  the  highest  destinj',  and  that 
Their  ten-  '^^^  *^^  thcsc  tender  and  strong  friendships  of  which 
der  friend-  it  is  plcasaut  to  find  SO  many  examples  in  the  lives 
of  the  saints,  was  formed  between  Gregory  and 
Leander.  The  brotherly  entreaties  of  Leander  induced  the 
holy  doctor  to  undertake  the  greatest  of  his  works,  the  Com- 
mentary upon  Job,  which  is  also  called  the  Moralia  of  St. 
Gregory.  The  intimate  and  lasting  tenderness  which  united 
these  two  great  men,  and  which  continued  through  the  pre- 
mature infirmities  of  which  both  were  victims.^^^  shines 
through  various  portions  of  the  correspondence  of  Gregoiw, 
and  dictated  to  him  those  accents  which  breathe  across  so 
many  intervening  centuries  the  immortal  perfume  of  real 
love.  ''  Absent  in  the  body,"  wrote  the  pope  to  his  friend, 
"you  are  always  present  to  my  eyes,  for  [  bear  your  linea- 
ments graven  on  my  heart.  .  .  .  You  can  read  in  your  own 
heart  what  an  ardent  thirst  I  have  to  see  you,  for  you  love 
me  sufiSciently  for  that.  .  .  .  What  a  cruel  distance  separates 
us  !  I  send  you  my  books.  Read  them  with  care,  and  then 
weep  over  my  sins,  since  I  appear  to  know  so  well  that  which 
I  do  so  ill.  My  letter  is  very  short ;  it  will  show  you  how 
much  I  am  overwhelmed  by  the  business  and  storms  of  my 
Church  since  I  write  so  briefly  to  him  I  love  most  in  the 
world."  212     ^11(1  later,  "  I  have  received  your  letter,  written 

210  i(  Cum  exercitus  .  .  .  ut  assolet,  graviter  loca  sancta  concuteret.  .  .  . 
Abbatem  senio  inourvatum  sed  sanctitate  erectum."  —  Greg.  Tcr.,  De  Glor. 
Confess.,  c.  12. 

*"  "  De  podagrse"  vero  niolcstia  Sanctitas  Vestra  .  .  .  affligetur,  cujua 
dolore  assiduo  et  ipse  vehemcntcr  attritus  sum."  —  S.  Greg.  Ep.,  ix.  121. 

*'*  "  Qiiam  absenteni  corpore,  prsesentem  mihi  te  semper  intueor,  quia 
vultus  tui  imaginem  intra  cordis  viscera  impressam  porto."  —  Epist.,  i.  41, 
"  Quanto  ardore  videre  te  sitiani,  quia  valde  me  dilisxis,  in  tui  tabulis  cordia 
leges  .  .  .  quando  ei  parum  loquor  quern  magis  omnibus  diligo." — lb.,  Y.i9, 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  417 

with  the  pen  of  cliiirity.  It  is  in  your  heart  that  you  have 
dipped  your  pen.  The  wise  and  worthy  men  wlio  have  heard 
it  read,  have  been  at  once  moved  to  the  depth  of  their  hearts. 
Each  of  them  offered  you  the  hand  of  love ;  they  seemed  not 
only  to  have  heard  you,  but  to  see  you  with  the  gentleness 
of  your  soul.  They  were  all  inspired  with  admiration,  and 
that  flame  lighted  in  your  hearers  demonstrated  your  own  ; 
for  no  man  can  light  the  sacred  fire  in  others  without  being 
himself  consumed  by  it.'' '■^i^ 

However,  the  excess  of  evil  hastened  its  end,  and  the 
Church  was  about  to  attain  a  sudden  and  complete  triumph. 
The  tyrant  Leuvigild,  the  parricide-king,^!*  struck  by  a  mor- 
tal sickness,  was  seized  with  remorse;  upon  his  deatlibed  he 
ordained  the  recall  of  Leander,  and  gave  him  as  a  guide  to 
his  son  and  successor  Recarede.  recommending  the  latter  to 
embrace  the  Catholic  faith.  The  new  king,  who  conversion 
had  been,  like  his  brother,  the  pupil  of  Leander,  "^j^'^l^^'''''^^ 
hastened  to  obey.  He  became  a  Catholic  immedi-  Visigoth 
ately,  and  undertook  the  conversion  of  his  people. 
After  long  controversies  with  the  Arian  clergy,  he  succeeded 
in  overcoming  all  resistance,  but  by  discussion,  and  .^^ 
not  by  force.^!^  Four  years  after  his  accessiou  to 
the  throne,  having  confirmed,  his  reign  by  brilliant  victories 
over  the  Franks,  he  proclaimed,  at  the  third  Council  of 
Toledo,  the  abjuration  of  Arianism  b}^  the  united  nation  of 
Ooths  and  Sueves.  The  king  there  declared  that  the  illus- 
trious nation  of  Goths,  separated  up  to  that  time  by  the  per- 
versity of  its  doctors  from  the  universal  Church,  returned  to 
unity,  and  demanded  to  be  instructed  in  orthodox  Catholic 
doctrine.  He  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  bishops  his  profes- 
sion of  faith,  written  by  his  own  hand,  along  with  that  of 
eight  Arian  bishops,  of  his  nobility,  and  of  all  his  people. 

Leander,  in  his  capacity  of  pope's  legate,  naturally  pre- 
sided at  this  great  assembly,  in  which  sat  seventy-eight 
bishops,  and  the  deliberations  of  which  were  eminently  as- 
sisted by  another  monk,  Eutropius,  abbot  of  that  monastery 

-'*  "  Solius  charitatis  calamo  scriptfim.  Ex  corde  enim  lingua  tinxerat 
quod  in  cliartae  pagina  refunr'ebat.  .  .  .  Nisi  enim  prius  in  se  faces  ardeant, 
aiium  non  succendunt."  —  Lijist.,  ix.  121. 

^^*  "Pater  vero  perfidus  et  parricida." —  S.  Greg.,  loc.  cit. 

'^^'  "  Saoerdotes  sectse  Arianae  sapienti  colloquio  aggressus,  ratione  potiua 
quam  imperio  converti  ad  C^atliolicam  fidem  facit,  gentemque  omnium  Gotho- 
ruiu  ac  Suevoruni  ad  unitatem  et  pacem  revocal  Ecclesiae  Ciiristianae." — 
JoANNis  abbatis  Biclakensis  Chronic,  ap.  Hispania  lllustr-,  10G8,  t.  iv 
p.  137. 


418  ST.  GKEGORY  THE  GREAT. 

of  Servitanum,  which  was  considered  the  most  ancient  in 
Spain.216  ^  third  monk,  John,  who  had  been  exiled  like  Le- 
ander,  and  had  consoled  his  exile  by  founding  a  great  monas- 
tery under  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict  in  Catalonia,  recorded  the 
great  transformation  of  which  he  was  witness  in  a  chronicle 
by  which  the  series  of  monastic  historians  was  begun  in 
Spain.2i7 

Th^is  was  accomplished  in  the  Peninsula,  under  the  aus- 
pices of  a  great  pope  and  a  great  bishop,  both  monks  and 
close  friends,  the  triumph  of  that  orthodoxy  which  found 
for  ten  centuries  a  true  champion  in  the  Spanish  nation, 
where,  even  amid  decay  and  downfall,  its  instinct  and  tra- 
dition are  still  preserved. 

Connection  Lcandor  hastened  to  announce  the  triumph  of 
^vlhGrcg-  truth,  and  the  thorough  conversion  of  the  king,  his 
•"■y-  nephew,  to   Gregory,  who   showed   himself  always 

affectionately  interested  in  the  new  conquests  of  the  Church. 
He  recommended  Leander  to  watch  attentively  over  the  soul 
of  the  prince,  lest  pride  and  impurity. should  come  to  stain 
his  young  orthodoxy.  Recarede  entered  into  direct  corre- 
spondence with  the  pope ;  in  order  to  render  himself  more 
agreeable  to  a  pontiff,  who  had  learnt  in  the  cloister  how  to 
govern  the  Church,  he  took  for  his  representatives  abbots 
chosen  with  care  from  the  Spanish  monasteries,^!^  to  whom 
he  intrusted  the  presents  which  he  intended  for  Gregory. 
But  they  were  shipwrecked  and  lost  everything  upon  rocks 
near  Marseilles.  Recarede  was  not  discouraged,  and  after- 
wards sent  a  golden  chalice  to  the  pope,  with  a  letter  in  serai- 
barbarous  Latin,  but  full  of  heart.  He  entreated  the  pope, 
who  wrote  to  so  many,  to  write  to  him  also,  and  added, 
"  Those  who  are  divided  by  earth  and  sea,  the  grace  of 
Jesus  Christ  seems  often  to  attract  to  each  other ;  those  who 
have  never  seen  you  rejoice  in  your  fame.  Never  forget,  to 
recommend  us  to  God,  I  and  m}^  people,  whom  you  have 
seen  in  your  own  time  gained  to  Christ:  the  breadth  of  the 
world  separates  us,  but  may  charity  unite  us  ! '"  ^^^     Like  the 

^'®  "  Summa  tamen  synodalis  nesfotii  penes  sanctum  Leandrum  .  .  .  et 
boatissimura  Eutropium  niunasterii  Servitani  abbatem  fuit."  —  Joannis  a66a- 
iis  BiGLARENSis  Ckronic,  ap.  Hispania  Illustr.,  1608,  t.  iv.  p.  137. 

*''  S.  IsiDORi,  De  Scri2}t.  Eccl.  ;  Mariana,  De  Reh.  Ilispan  ,  lib.  v,  c.  13. 
S'^e  the  letter  from  the  Bishop  of  Barcelona,  respecting  the  site  of  this  mon- 
astery of  Biclara  or  Vilclara,  in  Mabili.on,  Ann.  Bened.,  lib.  iii.  c.  35. 

218  (4  j;^  nionasteriis  abbates  eleginms."  —  Apiid  S.  Greg.,  Epist.,  ix.  61. 

ai9  (I  Nonnunquam  solet  ut  quos  spatia  terrnruni  sive  maria  dividunt,  Christi 
gratia  ceu  visibiliter  glutinare.  .  .  .  Nos  gentesque  nostras  .  .  .  quae  ve.stria 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  419 

Frank  kings,  Recarede  afterwards  desired  the  good  ofHoes  of 
the  pope  with  the  B^'zantine  court,  in  which  all  the  barbarian 
princes  always  saw  a  reflection  of  ancient  Roman  grandeur. 
Gregory  on  his  side  responded  to  him  with  alTection  and  in 
detail:  he  insisted  upon  the  conditions  of  eternal  salvation, 
warned  him  especially  against  temptations  to  pride  and  anger, 
and  proved  that  the  conversion  of  his  people  could  not  have 
a  better  guarantee  than  the  humility  of  his  soul  and  the 
purity  of  his  life.^^o  He  sent  this  answer  by  Lis  friend  the 
abbot  Cyriac,  whom  he  calls  the  "  father  of  our  monas- 
tery,"^^ and  whom  he  made  his  legate  in  Spain,  confiding  to 
him  the  care  of  proceeding  against  simon}^  and  the  intrusion 
of  laymen  into  the  episcopate,  as  he  had  already  done  in 
France.  He  sent  the  pallium  on  the  same  occasion  to  Le- 
ander,  who  preceded  his  friend  to  the  tomb  by  some  years, 
dj^ing  at  the  same  time  as  King  Recarede  in  601.  Spain  has 
always  honored  in  him  her  doctor  and  apostle,  the  principal 
instrument  of  her  return  to  Catholic  unity .^-^ 

Ail  his  family  were  associated  in  this  work.  His  LeaiKier 
father  and  mother  had  been,  like  himself,  exiled  for  mona'stic 
the  faith,  and  died  in  that  exile.  His  brother  Ful-  ^'^'""y- 
gentius,  a  bishop  like  himself,  shared  his  combats  and  his 
victory.  His  sister  Florentine,  embracing  monastic  life,  be- 
came the  superior  of  forty  convents  and  a  thousand  nuns, 
and  by  her  knowledge,  her  virtue,  and  even  b}-  her  sacred 
songs,  was  worthy  of  taking  her  place  at  the  head  of  all  the 
illustrious  nuns  whom  the  country  of  St.  Theresa  has  given 
to  the  Church.2^3  Leander,  who  loved  her  tenderly,  wrote  for 
her  use  a  special  rule.^^* 

*' I  have  considered,"  he  says  to  her  in  the  pre-  ruIo  given 
amble  of  this  rule,  '*  dearest  sister,  what  wealth  or  ^  i,lf  srslol 
patrimony  I  could  leave  to  thee;  many  fallacious  i"'io'-eiitme. 
things  have  occurred  to  my  mind,  which  I  have  driven  away 
as  troublesome  flies  are  brushed  away  by  the  hand.  Of  all 
that  I  have  seen  under  the  sun,  there  is  nothing  worthy  of 
thee.     It  is  above   the   skies  that  we  must  seek  the  true 

Bunt  a  Christi  acquisita  temporibus  .  .  .  ut  .  .  .  quos  orbis  latitude  dissocial 
.  .  .  vera  cliaritas  convalescat." 

^^o  Epist.,  ix.  122. 

221  4.  jvionasterii  nostri  patrem." —  Ibid.,  ix.  120. 

'**  "  Adeo  ut  non  iminerito  cum  colant  Hispani  tanquam  gentis  suae  docto- 
rom  et  apostolum,  cui  potissimum  debet  Hispania  quod  et  rectam  fidem  et 
Catholicos  habeat  reges." — D'Achery,  Act,  SS.  0.  B.,  t.  i.  p.  376. 

''■^^  She  died  in  603. 

"**  De  Instituiione  Virginum  et  Contemptu  Mundi,  divided  into  twenty-  one 
chapters. 


'{•10  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

wealth,  tlie  gift  of  holy  virginity.  ...  I  am  not  capable,  be- 
loved sister,  of  extolling  it  enough.  It  is  an  ineffable  and 
hidden  gift.  What  all  the  saints  hope  one  day  to  be,  what 
the  entire  Church  expects  to  become  after  the  resurrection, 
3^ou  are  already.  .  .  .  You  are  the  fine  flour  of  the  body  of 
the  Church,  and  her  purest  leaven  ;  you  are  the  offering 
already  accepted  by  God,  and  consecrated  upon  his  celestial 
altars.-^^  Christ  is  already  thy  spouse,  thy  father,  thy  friend, 
thy  inheritance,  thy  ransom,  thy  Lord  and  thy  God." 

iTe  warns  her  against  all  intimacy  Avith  lay  women,  whom 
he  calls  sirens  and  instruments  of  Satan.^^^  He  condemns 
the  error  of  those  who  believe  they  could  consecrate  their 
virginity  to  God  without  shutting  themselves  up  in  a  monas- 
tery, by  remaining  in  their  families  or  in  isolated  cells,  in 
the  midst  of  cities,  among  all  the  cares  of  domestic  life.^" 
He  affirms  that  regular  monastic  life  is  identically  conformed 
to  that  which  was  led  by  the  Apostles.  He  reminds  that 
daughter  of  a  n  ble  race,  that  sister  and  aunt  of  Visigoth 
kings,  of  the  obligations  imposed  upon  her  by  Christian 
equaHt}',  and  directs  her  to  regard  as  her  equals  even  the 
slaves  who,  like  her,  had  assumed  the  veil.  "  Their  birth 
made  them  slaves,  their  profession  has  made  them  thy  sisters. 
Let  nothing  remind  them  of  their  ancient  servitude.  She 
who  combats  by  thy  side  for  Christ  under  the  banner  of  vir- 
ginity should  enjoy  a  liberty  equal  to  thine.  In  accepting 
them  for  thy  sisters,  thou  shalt  have  them  so  much  the  more 
for  servants,  that  they  will  obey  thee  not  by  the  obligation 
of  servitude,  but  by  the  freedom  of  charity.  Not  that  your 
humility  should  tempt  them  to  pride.  Charity  tempers 
everything,  and  will  conduct  yon  all  to  the  frontier  of  tho 
same  peace,  without  exalting  her  who  has  sacrificed  power, 
and  without  humiliating  her  who  was  born  poor  or  en- 
slaved." ^^^  It  is  pleasant  to  find  in  that  great  mind  the  in- 
dications of  fraternal  affection  and  domestic  recollections. 
'*  Seek  not."  said  he,  playing  upon  the  name  of  their  mother 
Turtur,  who  had  also  ended  her  days  in  the  cloister,  "  to  steal 
away  from  the  roof  where  the  turtle  lays  her  little  ones. 
Tliou  art  the  daughter  of  innocence  and  candor,  thou  who 
hast  had  the  turtle-dove  i'or  thy  mother.     But  love  still  more 

2i5  "  Perquirenti  mihi,  soror  carissinia,  .  .  .  multae  lerum  fallaciuni  occur- 
rebant  imagines,  quus  turn  ut  iniportunas  niuscas  raanu  mentis  abigerem 
.  .  .  Vos  estis  prima  delibatio  corporis  Ecclesiaa :  vos  ex  tola  corporis  massa 
uhlationes." —  Prcsf.  Regid. 

^*^  Cap.  1.  «'  Cap.  17. 

*2«  Cap.  12  and  13. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  421 

the  Cliurcli,  that  other  mystic  turtle-dove,  who  travails  with 
thee  every  day  for  Jesus  Cl)rist.  Repose  thy  old  n^e  on  her 
bosom,  as  thou  sleptst  of  old  upon  the  heart  of  her  who  cared 
for  thy  infmcy.^^^  .  .  .  Ah,  well-beloved  sister,  understand 
the  ardent  desire  which  inspires  the  heart  of  thy  brother  to 
see  thee  with  Christ.  .  .  .  Thou  art  the  better  part  of  myself. 
Woe  to  me  if  another  take  thy  crown  !  Thou  art  my  bul- 
wark with  Christ,  my  cherished  pledge,  my  holy  Host, 
through  whom  I  shall  be  worthy  to  issue  out  of  the  abj^ss  of 
m}^  sins."  23^ 

Florentine  had  yet  another  brother  younger,  but  not  less 
illustrious  than  Leander.  who  loved  her  as  much,  since  he 
has  dedicated  to  her  one  of  the  greatest  monuments  of  his 
genius.231  Isidore  was  the  last  born  of  that  high-  hjs brother 
destined  family.  Before  succeeding  Leander  upon  Isidore. 
the  metropolitan  see  of  Seville,  he  was  the  pupil  of  his  elder 
brother,  who  loved  him  like  a  son,  but  who  used  him  with  so 
much  severity  that  the  young  Isidore,  fearing  the  energetic 
and  frequent  corrections  of  his  brother,^^^  flg(j  q^^q  ^.^y  from 
the  school  at  Seville.  After  having  wandered  for  some  time 
through  the  country  exhausted  by  thirst  and  fatigue,  the 
child  seated  himself  near  a  well,  and  looked  with  curiosity  at 
the  hollows  worn  in  its  edge.  He  asked  himself  who  had 
done  that,  when  a  woman  who  came  to  draw  water  from  the 
well,  and  who  was  greatly  struck  with  the  beauty  and  hum- 
ble innocence  of  the  scholar,  explained  to  him  that  the  drops 
of  water  falling  incessantly  on  the  same  spot  had  hollowed 
the  stone.  Then  the  child  returned  into  himself,  and  thought, 
that  if  the  hard  stone  was  hollowed  thus  drop  by  drop  by  the 
water,  his  mind  would  also  yield  to  the  print  of  instruction.^s^ 
He  returned  accordingly  to  his  brother,  and  completed  his 
education  so  well,  that  he  was  shortly  master  of  Latin,  G-reek, 

*^^  "  Simplicitatis  filia  es  quse  turture  matre  nata  es.  Turturem  pro  matre 
respice.  Turturem  pro  niagistra  attende,  et  quse  te  Christo  quotidie  affecti- 
bus  general,  cliarioreui  qua  uata  es  matrem  reputa  ...  sit  tibi  dulce  ejus 
gremium  provectae  quod  erat  infantis  grntissimum."  —  Cap.  21. 

-^°  "  Senti  fratris  coneupisceiUiam  velle  te  esse  cum  Christo.  .  .  .  Tu  qufe 
pars  melior  nostri  es  corporis.  .  .  .  Tu  apud  Christum  tutamen  nieum,  tu, 
charissima,  mcura  piy;nus."  —  Prcefat. 

^^'  His  treatise  De  Fide  Ca^holica. 

232  iijvfon  parcebat  virgis,  et  laudatus  est  in  illo.  .  .  .  Puerili  permotus 
timore,  verbera  niagistri  metuens."  —  Lucas  Tudensis,  Vit.  S.  Isid.,  ap. 
BoLLAND.,  t.  i.  Apr.,  p.  331. 

233  41  Aspexit  praegrande  saxum  tortuosis  foraminibus  perforatum.  .  .  . 
Mulier  super  pulchritudine  pucri  adiiiodum  mirata.  .  .  .  Quis  vel  ad  quid 
lapidis  liujus  foramina.  .  .  .  Et  si  liipis  durisiimus  mollis  aquap  frequent) 
instillatioiie  cavatur,  quanto  magis  ego  homo  !  "  —  Ibid. 

VOL.  L  36 


422  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

and  Hebrew,  and  became  the  active  fellow-laborer  of  Loander 
in  the  work  of  Arian  conversion. 

Action  of  tie  lived  long;  in  a  cell  where  his  brother  kept  him 

u'^on  the       ^^^^^  up  to  prevent  him  from  wandering,  giving  him 
orieriu        the  most  learned    masters  of  the  time.     It  is   not 
^'"°'  absolutely  proved  that  he  was  a  monk,  though  many 

liave  maintained  it.  But  it  is  difficult  to  doubt  it  when  we  read 
the  Rule  which  he  wrote,  in  twent3'-three  chapters,  for  the 
use  of  the  Religious  of  his  own  countrj',  and  which  is  little 
more  than  an  extract  of  the  Benedictine  Rule,  with  which  his 
brother  Leander  had  made  him  familiar. 

His  monas-  Curious  details  upon  the  means  by  which  the 
tic  writ-  order  recruited  its  ranks  from  the  most  various 
classes,  and  the  lowest  conditions  of  life,  are  to  be 
found  here,  as  in  another  of  his  works  upon  the  Dat^  of  the 
Bionics.  This  information  is  communicated  to  us  'n\  wise  and 
noble  words,  which  breathe,  with  more  precision  and  elo- 
quence than  anywhere  else,  the  doctrine  of  the  equality  of 
souls  before  God  and  the  Church,  but  where  we  also  perceive 
the  curb  imposed  by  justice  and  reason  on  the  pride  of  the 
Equality  in  newlv  emancipated.  "  Our  holy  army,"  says  Isidore, 
r.;-'; cloister.  '•  fiHg  np  its  rauks  not  only  with  freemen,  but  espe- 
cially with  those  of  servile  condition,  who  come  to  seek  free- 
dom in  the  cloister.  Men  come  also  from  rustic  life,  from  labo- 
rious professions,  from  plebeian  labors,  and  with  so  much  more 
advantage  as  they  are  better  inured  to  labor.  It  would  be  a 
serious  fault  not  to  admit  them."  ''  We  must  not  inquire," 
he  adds,  "  whether  the  novice  be  rich  or  poor,  bond  or  free, 
young  or  old  ;  neither  age  nor  condition  matters  among 
monks  ;  for  God  has  made  no  difference  between  the  soul  of 
the  slave  and  that  of  the  free  man.  .  .  .  Many  plebeians  have 
exhibited  brilliant  virtues,  and  are  worthy  to  be  raised  above 
nobles.  .  .  .  But  let  not  those  who  come  out  of  poverty  to 
enter  the  cloister  swell  with  pride  to  see  themselves  the 
equals  of  those  who  appeared  to  be  something  in  the  world. 
It  would  be  an  unworthy  thing  if,  where  the  rich,  giving  up 
all  worldly  splendor,  descend  to  humilit}^,  the  poor  should 
allow  themselves  to  rise  into  arrogance.  .  .  .  They  ought, 
on  the  contrary,  to  put  aside  all  vanity,  to  understand  lium- 
bly  their  new  position,  and  never  to  forget  their  former 
poverty."  ^^ 

2J4  4i  Veniunt  non  solum  liberi,  seel  plerumqne  ex  conditione  servili  ve\ 
propter  hoc  potius  liberandi.  Veniunt  quoque  ex  vita  rustica,  et  ex  ipificuni 
texercitatione,  .  .  .  et  ex  plebeio  labore,  tanto  utique  felicius,  quanto  fortius 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  423 

Monk  or  not,  Isidore  distinguished  himself  by  his  zeal  for 
monastic  interests  when  on  the  death  of  Leander  he  became 
bishop  of  Seville,  and  the  oracle  of  the  Spanish  Church.^^s 
He  presided  at  that  Council  of  Seville  which,  in  619,  pro- 
nounced the  anathema  against  bishops  or  priests  who  should 
attempt  to  disturb  or  despoil  the  monasteries.^-^^ 
.   During   the    forty   years   of  his    episcopate,  his  serviceR 
knowledge,   zeal,   and    authority    consolidated   the  by  him  to 
happy  revolution  and  religious  and  literary  revival  andS'"'^*''* 
of  which  his  brother  had  been  the  chief  author.    He  Spain. 
completed  the  destruction  of  Arianism,  stifled  the  new  heresy 
of  the  Acephales,  continued,  strengthened,  and  enriched  the 
vast  educational  work  of  which  Seville  was  the  centre,  and 
which,  by  means  of  the  fourth  Council  of  Toledo,  he  extended 
to  all  the  Episcopal  Churches  of  Spain,  prescribing  every- 
where the  study  of  Greek  and  Hebrew.     He  was,  besides, 
the  compiler  of  that  Spanish  liturgy  so  poetic  and  imposing, 
which,  under  the  name  of  Mozarabic,  survived  the  ruin  of  the 
Visigoth  Church,  and  was  worthy  of  being  resuscitated  by 
the  great  Ximenes. 

A  fertile  writer,  unwearied  and  profoundly  learned,  he 
wrote,  among  many  other  works,  a  history  of  the  Goths,  their 
conquests  and  government  in  Spain.  He  made  Aristotle 
known  to  the  new  nations  of  the  West  long  before  the  Arabs 
came  to  bring  him  again  into  fashion.  He  has  preserved  to 
us  a  multitude  of  classical  fragments  which  without  his  care 
would  have  perished  forever,  by  condensing  all  the  know- 
ledge of  antiquity  and  of  his  own  time,  the  seven  liberal  arts, 
philological  tradition,  medicine,  law,  natural  history,  geogra- 
phy, and  even  the  mechanical  arts,  in  that  vast  encyclopedia 
which,  under  the  name  of  a  treatise  on  Etymology  or  on  Tlie 
Origin  of  Things,  was,  with  the  analogous  work  of  the  monk 
Cassiodorus,  the  school  manual  of  the  middle  ages.^^'*'  It  has 
been  said  of  him  with  justice  that  he  was  the  last  philosopher 

educati."  —  S.  Isidoei,  De  Offic.  Fccles.,  c.  15;  De  Monach.,  c.  5.  "Quia 
inter  servl  et  liberi  animam  nulla  est  apud  Deum  differentia.  .  .  .  Non  ex- 
tollantur  in  superbiam,  quia  se  ibi  aequales  aspiciunt  iis  qui  aliquid  in  saeculo 
vidcbantur."  —  Regula,  c.  4.  Finally  Isidore  prohibited,  in  his  rule,  the  re- 
ception into  the  monastery  of  slaves  whom  their  masters  had  not  set  free. 

^^'^  Compare  Bolland.,  loc.  c,  and  Mabillon,  Act.  SS.  0.  B.  scec.  it.  in 
PrcBtermissts.  "  Monastici  quoque  instituti  per  Hispaniam  promoter,  et  am- 
plificator  eximius,  plura  construxit  monasteria." —  Qffic.  Sanctorum  in  Brev, 
Rom.  ad  usum  Hispanics.  Matr.  1678,  die  4  April. 

*^®  Can.  X.;  ap.  Coletti,  Coticil.,  t.  v.  p.  1407. 

^'  OzAKAM,  La  Civilisation  Chretienne  chez  les  Francs,  c.  9. 


424  ST.  GEEGORY  THE  GREAT. 

of  tlio  ancient  world  ^38  and  the  first  Christian  who  arranged 
for  Christians  the  knowledge  of  antiquity. 
He  dies  Isidore  died  in  636  ;  but  the  Hght  which  he  had 

—  '      thrown  in  floods  upon   Spain  and  the  Church  was 
^^^'        not  extinguished  with  him.     He  had  numerous  dis- 
ciples, of  whom   St.   Ildefonso  was  the   most  illustrious,  but 
among  whom  we  must  name,  in  passing,  Braulius,  bishop  of 
Saragossa,  who  has  been  characterized  as  the  most 
eloquent  writer  of  Gothic  Spain  ;  and  King  Sisebut, 
a  learned   prince,  who   had  a  double  merit,  according  to  a 
Benedictine   historian,  in  his  love  for  literature,  as  being  at 
once  a  king  and  a  Goth.^"^ 

Most  of  the  Visigoth  kings  distinguished  themselves  by 
their  liberaHty  towards  monasteries.  The  only  authentic 
charter  which  remains  of  the  Visigothic  period,  is  a  donation 
made  in  646,  bj'  King  Chindaswinde,  to  the  monastery  of 
Compludo.  This  charter  is  signed  by  the  king,  by  the  queen 
Reciberga,  by  St.  Eugene,  archbishop  of  Toledo,  and  two 
other  bishops,  by  five  counts,  and  four  abbots,  among  whom 
we  remark  the  name  of  Ildefonso,  destined  to  the  highest 
visio-othic  honor.240  But  the  great  number  of  similar  donations 
fornffor  Jg  provcd  by  the  general  and  official  formula  on 
fomX-'"  which  these  acts  were  modelled,  and  which  French 
*'°"®*  erudition   has  lately  brought   to  light.     The  king 

who  would  found  or  endow  a  community  addressed  himself 
to  the  saint  whose  relics  were  to  be  placed  in  the  new  church, 
and  spoke  a  language  which  seems  to  make  even  these  legal 
forms  palpitate  with  the  ardent  breath  of  Spanish  faith. 
"  Glorious  lord  and  happy  conqueror,"  he  is  made  to  say, 
"  we  have  decreed  that  henceforth,  in  the  place  where  the 
treasure  of  your  sacred  body  reposes,  there  should  be  a  con- 
gregation of  monks,  destined  to  serve  God  and  honor  your 
memory,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Fathers,  who  have  es- 
tabhshed  the  rule  of  monastic  life.  We  offer  to  your  glorious 
memory  such  and  such  a  portion  of  our  patrimony  to  support 
the  church  and  its  light,  its  incense  and  its  sacrifices,  to 
supply  the  regulated  food  and  clothing  of  the  monks,  the  help 
of  the  poor,  and  that  travellers  may  be  received  there.  .  .  . 
We  x^ill  that  this  donation,  made  to  efface  our  sins,  should  be 

*^*    CCVIER. 

*"'  "  Lo  que  es  mucho  para  aquello  tiempo  que  siendo  Rey  et  Godo,  se 
aplicava  l;is  letras." — Yepes,  Cent.   Secvnd.,  p.  48. 

^"^  Yepes,  Coroinca  General  del  Orden  de  S.  BenoU,  vol.  ii.  p.  174,  ani 
Append.,  Esritura  13. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  42/) 

perpetual ;  that  neither  priest  nor  prelate  may  have  power 
to  alienate  it.  We  warn  future  abbots,  in  centuries  to  come, 
not  to  dissolve,  by  carelessness  or  irregularit}^,  the  bond  which 
we  here  form.  And  you  who  shall  reign  after  us,  we  adjure 
you  by  the  empire  of  the  eternal  God  (and  may  God  deign  to 
preserve  the  nation  and  kingdom  of  the  Goths  to  the  end  of 
the  world  ! )  take  heed  that  nothing  is  taken  away  or  muti- 
lated in  these  oblations,  by  which  we  would  propitiate  God 
for  our  own  salvation,  and  that  of  all  the  Goths  !  Glorious 
martyr,  accept  this  gift,  and  present  it  before  God."2«  In  this 
formula,  as  in  the  charter  of  Compludo,  appear  already  those 
formidable  imprecations  so  universal  during  the  middle  ages, 
against  the  violators  and  robbers  of  holy  things  which  threaten 
them  with  the  fate  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  and  which  assign 
them  a  place  in  hell  beside  Dathan,  Abiram,  and  Judas  Iscariot. 
The  development  of  the  monastic  institution  kept  pace  with 
that  of  literature  and  Christian  piety,  under  the  influence  of 
the  great  doctors  produced  by  monastic  life  in  Spain.  St. 
lidefonso,  who  signed  the  charter  of  Compludo,  in  whom  Le- 
ander  and  Isidore  seemed  to  live  again,  and  who  was  the 
most  popular  of  the  Spanish  saints,  issued  like  them  from  the 
famous  school  of  Seville :  but  he  was  also  connected  with 
another  centre  of  knowledge  and  ecclesiastical  education 
created  by  the  monastic  spirit.  At  the  gates  of  Toledo, 
which,  since  the  union  of  the  whole  territory  of  ^^,^001  of 
Spain  under  the  sceptre  of  the  Visigoth  kings,  had  Toledo, 
replaced  Seville  as  tlie  capital  of  the  Visigoth  king-  Abbey  of 
dom,  rose  the  monastery  of  Agali,  founded  in  the  '^°''''- 
sixth  century.  In  the  following  age,  it  was  a  nursery  of 
saints  and  doctors,  and  the  most  celebrated  abbey  of  tha 
Peninsula,  Six  metropolitan  bishops  of  Toledo  ^42  came  from 
it  in  succession,  and  among  them  Helladius,  a  young  lord  of 

241  a  Formula  qimmfacit  rex  qui  Ecclesiam  esdificans  monasterium  facere 
voluerit.  —  Domino  glorioso  et  triumphatori  beatissiino.  .  .  .  Juxta  Patrum 
more  (sic)  qui  monaohis  normam  vitse  posuerunt.  .  .  .  Per  setates  .succiduas 
futures  prasmonenius  abbates.  .  .  .  Per  aaterni  regis  imperiuin  (sic  Deus 
Gothoruui  gcntem  et  regnum  usque  in  finem  sasculi  conservare  dignetur!) 
.  .  ."  —  E.  DE  Rozi^RE,  Forraules  Visigothiqiies  Inedites,  No.  9,  1854. 

2-«2  Aurasius,  died  in  614;  Helladius.  died  in  632;  St.  Just,  wlio  presided 
with  St.  Isidore  at  the  fourth  Council  of  Toledo,  died  in  635;  Eugene  II.,  a 
monk  from  infancy,  presided  at  the  fifth,  sixth,  and  seventh  Councils  of  To- 
ledo, and  died  in  646;  Eugene  III.,  who  was  the  most  distinguished  poet  of 
Gothic  Spain  (v.  Bourret,  op.  citat.)  presided  at  the  eighth,  ninth,  and 
tenth  Councils  of  Toledo,  and  died"  in  658 ;  lastly,  lidefonso,  nephew  of  the 
preceding,  died  in  667.  The  three  first  and  lidefonso  were  not  only  monks, 
but  abbots  of  Agali. 

36* 


42G  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

the  fir.^t  nobility,  the  friend  and  fellow-student  of  Leander, 
who,  like  him,  early  renounced  the  world,  and  had  lived  long 
at  Agali,  in  companionship  with  the  Religious,  and  was 
pleased  to  be  employed  in  carrying  fagots  to  the  abbatial 
oven,243  before  lie  himself  became  a  monk.  When  he  became 
bishop  after  having  been  abbot  of  the  monastery,  he  insti- 
tuted the  great  school  which  his  successors  vied  with  each 
other  in  developing. 

St  iidefon-  Udefouso,  bom  at  Toledo,  of  a  family  allied  to  the 
8o,  monk      blood  roval,  received  at  first  in  Seville,  for  twelve 

of  A^^rIi  .  .  ■ 

bishop  of  years,  the  instructions  of  Isidore,  and  then,  return- 
Toledo,  jj^g  ^Q  ijjg  ^^^j^  birthplace,  despite  the  violent  oppo- 
sition of  his  family,  became  a  monk  at  Agali.  Another 
kind  of  violence,  that  of  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  people 
and  clergy  of  Toledo,  was  needed  to  draw  him  from  thence, 
and  place  him  upon  the  metropolitan  see.  He  too  cultivated 
historj'  and  poetry  with  success  ;  his  ascetic  writings  take  an 
honorable  place  in  the  religious  literature  of  the  time.  But 
it  was  his  ardent  devotion  to  the  holy  Virgin,  whose  per- 
Themost  petual  virginity  he  defended  against  the  heresy  of 
Spanish"^  the  Hclvidiaus,  which  gained  him  the  first  place  in 
saints.  ^\^q  jgye  and  memory  of  the  Spanish  people.     The 

miraculous  visions  which  testified  the  gratitude  of  Mary  for 
the  efforts  of  his  defending  zeal,^^^  and  the  relics  of  them 
which  he  left  to  the  church  of  Toledo,  after  having  warmed 
the  devotion  of  the  Spaniards  for  their  great  saint  Alonzo,  re- 
ceived, a  thousand  years  after  his  death,  a  new  consecration 
from  the  genius  of  Calderon.^^ 

Leander,  Isidore,  and  lldefonso  were  the  illustrious  repre- 
sentatives of  intellectual  life  in  a  time  from  which  it  had 
almost  ever3Mvhere  disappeared.  These  laborious,  learned, 
and  eloquent  ecclesiastics,  full  of  zeal  for  knowledge  and 
study,  as  well  as  for  religion,  secured  in  Spain  the  future 
existence  of  Christian  literature  and  literary  traditions,  which 

^*^  S.  HiLDEPHONS.,  De  Virih.  Ulustr..  c.  7. 

"*  During  the  night  of  tlie  feast  of  the  Expectatio  Partus  B.  M.  V.,  St. 
Leocadia,  whose  relies  he  had  diseovered,  appeared  to  him  and  said,  "  O  II- 
defonse!  per  te  vivit  Doniina  niea,  quae  coeH  culmina  tenet."  In  order  to 
secure  a  palpable  tolien  of  this  vision,  he  seized  the  sword  of  King  Races- 
winth,  who  accompanied  him,  and  cut  off  a  portion  of  the  veil  of  the  saint, 
which  afterwards  became  a  much  venerated  relic.  —  Breviar.  Roman,  in 
prop.  Clo-i  Romani,  ad  23  Januar.  Another  night,  he  saw  the  holy  Virgin 
herself  seated  on  the  episcopal  throne,  in  the  apse  of  his  cathedral,  which 
was  illuminated  by  that  presence,  and  on'which  he  never  afterwards  ventured 
to  seat  himself. 

^^  See  the  drama,  by  Calderon,  entitled  La  Virgen  del  Sacrario. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  427 

were  everywhere  else  interrupted,  or  threatened  by  the 
storms  of  invasion,  and  the  establishment  of  the  Barbarians. 
They  made  their  country  the  intellectual  light  of  the  Christian 
world  in  the  seventh  century. 

Alter  them   come  all  the  admirable  bishops   and   monks, 
issued  from  the  blood  or  spiritual  famil}^  of  these  three  great 
men,  who  were,  as  they  themselves  had  been,  the  soul  of  the 
famous  Councils  of  Toledo.     It  is  well  known  that  -i.f,eCoun- 
these  councils  were  the  strength  and  elory  of  Gothic  ciisoiTo- 

Ipflo  fnid 

Spain  ;  and  that  out  of  their  bosom  came,  purified   their 
by  the  sacerdotal  spirit,  that  Visigothic  legislation  •='i»°"«- 
which  modern  knowledge  has  nobly  vindicated,^^^  and  placed 
in  the  first  rank  of  the  laws  of  ancient  Christendom,  for  the 
boldness,  depth,  and  equity  of  its  views. 

Leander  and  Isidore,  the  two  illustrious  brothers,  gave  to 
these  assemblies  the  political  and  legislative  character  which 
they  retained  for  a  century,  and  which  has  fixed  upon  them 
the    special    attention    of    historians.^*"     Doubtless,   in    the 

^*^  GuizoT,  Hist,  de  la  Civilisation,  vol.  i. ;  Hist,  des  Origines  du  Gou- 
vernemeni  Representatif.  le^.  2b ;  and  Revue  Frangaise  of  November  1828. 

^"•^  The  following  is  tlie  clironological  list  of  the  Councils  wliich  were  held 
at  Toledo  from  tlie  conversion  of  the  Visigoths  to  the  conquest  of  Spain  by 
the  Moors.  (Those  numbered  First  and  Second  are  previous,  and  date,  the 
first  400,  and  tlie  second  531.) 

The  Third,  in  .o89  composed  of  65  bisliops,  presided  over  by  Leander, 
published  23  decrees  or  canons. 

Two  Councils,  held  in  597  and  610,  the  decrees  of  which  were  first  pub- 
lished by  Garcia  Loasia  in  the  sixteenth  century,  have  not  been  com- 
prised in  the  ordinary  numeration,  so  as  ^not  to  disarrange  the  traditional 
order. 

The  Fourth,  in  633  :  62  bishops ;  75  canons.     St.  Isidore  signs  first. 

The  Fifth,  in  636  :  20  bisliops  ;  9  canons. 

The  Sixth,  in  638  :  52  bisliops;   19  canons. 

The  Seventh,  in  646  :  28  bishops;  6  canons. 

The  Eighth,  in  6";3:  52  bishops;  10  abbots,  among  whom  was  Ildefonso, 
abbot  of  Agali ;  12  canons. 

The  Ninth,  in  655:  16  bishops;  6  abbots,  among  them  Ildefonso;  17 
canons. 

The  Tenth,  in  656 :  20  bisliops,  among  them  the  monk  St.  Fructueux, 
archbishop  of  Braga,  of  whom  we  shall  speak  hereafter;  7  canons. 

The  Eleventh,  in  675 :  19  bishops;  6  abbots;   16  canons. 

The  Twelfth,  in  681 :  35  bishops;  4  abbots;   13  canons. 

The  Thirteenth,  in  683  :  48  bishops;  5  abbots  ;   13  canons. 

Tlie  Fourteenth,  in  684:   17  bishops;  6  abbots;   12  canons. 

The  Fifteentli,  in  688  :  61  bishops ;  8  abbots. 

The  Sixteenth,  in  693:  59  bishops;  5  abbots;  13  canons. 

The  Seventeenth,  in  694  :  8  canons  ;  no  signatures. 

Tlie  Eighteenth,  and  last:  in  701. 

Many  of  these  bishops  proceeded  from  the  monastic  order,  or  ended  their 
days  in  it.  —  Yepes,  Cent.  Secund.  This  collection  includes,  besides,  the 
signatures  of  proxies  of  absent  bishops,  and  those  of  a  crowd  of  counts  and 
lay  proceres. 


428  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

eighteen  assemblies  held  at  Toledo,  from  the  conversion  of 
the  Visigoths  to  the  conquest  of  Spain  by  the  Moors,  I'eli 
gious  matters  always  occupied  the  first  place.  Questions 
touching  doctrine,  ecclesiastical  hierarchy,  and  discipline,  the 
independence  and  regularity  of  monasteries,^48  ^\^q  general 
and  detailed  aspect  of  spiritual  interests,  formed  the  suhject 
of  most  of  the  decisions  issued  by  (hese  Councils.  Doululess, 
also,  the  bishops  played  a  preponderating  part,  by  number  as 
by  authority.  But  lords  and  law  dignitaries  figured  there 
also  :  entering  the  first  time  with  the  king,  who  almost  always 
took  the  initiative  as  regards  questions  whicli  were  to  be 
dealt  witii,  these  laymen  withdrew  with  him  ;  but  after  hav- 
prcnonder  ^^^?  ^^^^  ^'^®  bishops  three  days  to  discuss  spiritual 
atiiig-purt  affairs  alone,  they  returned  to  take  part  in  the  final 
bisiiops,  deliberations.  They  were  there  by  virtue  of  a  recog- 
tllrVinter-  nizsd  right:  the}'  signed  the  decrees  like  the  bish- 
ventioiiof     ops.     Bcsidcs,  the  consent  of  what  was  then  called 

laymen.  ^  ,  '  ,  .  p      n      i  -i-  i   -i- 

the  people  —  that  is,  oi  all  the  military  nobility  oi 
the  Gothic  nation  —  seems  to  have  been  often  asked  and  ex- 
pressed to  give  validity  to  the  decisions  of  the  king,  the 
bishops,  and  the  proceres.^^^ 

Thus  constituted,  these  memorable  assemblies 
and  doc-  exercised  power,  spiritual  and  temporal,  political 
thosubjeot  ^^^  civil,  legislative  and  judiciary,  in  all  its  fulness: 
o( the  all  the  gieat  affairs  of  the  kingdom  were  discussed 

there  ;  and  this  kingdom  embraced  not  only  the 
whole  of  Spain,  which  the  Visigoths  had  succeeded  in  pur- 
ging from  the  last  vestiges  of  Greco-Roman  power,  but  also 
the  Narbonnaise,  the  bishops  of  which  took  their  places  at 
Toledo  with  those  of  the  Peninsula.  They  made  laws  and 
kings.  They  regulated  the  conditions  of  the  elective  mon- 
archy, too  often  ignored  in  practice  b}'  the  sanguinary  vio 
lence  of  pretenders,  or  of  successors  designated  to  the  throne. 
And  although  the  accomplished  acts  which  they  found  it  best 
to  sanction  had  too  often  substituted  violence  for  right,  they 

^*'^  The  Fourth,  held  in  633,  under  the  presidency  of  Isidore,  showed  itself 
especially  zealous  for  the  liberty  of  tlie  monks,  guaranteeing  to  priests  the 
libeity  of  embracing  monastic  life,  int:?rdicting  bishops  from  all  tnoiestation 
or  usurpation  injurious  to  the  monaste;ies,  and  prohibiting  the  return  to  tlie 
world  of  all  professed  monks. 

The  Nintli,  held  in  655,  saw  the  necessity  of  putting  a  curb  on  the  munifi- 
cence of  bishops  towards  monasteries,  by  prohibiting  them  from  disposing  of 
more  than  a  fiftieth  of  the  episcopal  patrimony  in  favor  of  these  foundations. 

*'"*  See  Councils  Eighth,  Fourteenth,  Sixteenth,  but  especially  the  canon 
of  the  Fourtl),  in  633,  wiiich  renders  valid  the  deposition  of  Swinthila,  afte? 
having  taken  the  advice  of  the  nation. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  429 

alwiij's  condemned  in  principle  ever}'  candidate  whose  claims 
were  not  founded  on  an  election  by  the  nobility  and  clergy, 
upon  the  purity  of  his  Gothic  origin,  and  the  uprightness  of 
his  character.^^^ 

After  having  established  that  the  king  was  only  the  repre* 
sentative  and  delegate  of  the  people,  they  seem  to  have  ac- 
corded to  him  a  kind  of  counter-advantage,  by  attributing  to 
his  authority  a  fulness  which  contrasts  with  the  limitations 
imposed  upon  their  princes  by  the  traditional  freedom  of  the 
Germanic  races,  who  were  best  acquainted  with  the  means 
of  recognizing  at  once  the  rights  of  blood,  and  restraining  the 
exercise  of  power.  But  never,  it  must  be  acknowledged, 
has  tlie  sovereign  power  been  addressed  in  language  more 
noble  than  that  of  the  fourth  Council  of  Toledo,  speaking  by 
the  mouth  of  Isidore  and  his  colleagues  to  King  Sisenand 
and  his  successors.  ''You  who  are  actually  king,  and  all 
you,  the  princes  of  the  future,  we  humbly  adjure  you  to  be 
gentle  and  moderate  towards  your  subjects,  to  govern  with 
justice  and  piety  the  nations  which  God  has  confided  to  you, 
and  thus  to  pay  your  debt  to  Christ  who  has  made  you  kings. 
Let  none  among  you  decide  by  himself  in  causes  which  con- 
cern life  or  property,  but  let  the  crime  of  the  accused  be 
proved  in  a  public  sitting  with  the  chiefs  of  the  people,  and 
by  an  open  judgment.  Be  gentle  even  in  your  severity  :  by 
means  of  such  moderation  the  kings  will  be  content  with  the 
people,  the  people  with  the  kings,  and  God  with  both.  As 
for  the  future  knigs,  this  is  the  sentence  we  publish  concern- 
ning  them.  If  an}'  one  among  them,  in  opposition  to  the  laws, 
for  pride  or  royal  pomp,  or  covetousness,  oppresses  or  vexea 
his  people,  may  he  be  accursed  by  the  Lord  Christ,  and  for- 
ever separated  from  God  !  "  ^^^ 

But  the  kings,  who  listened  humbly  to  such  lessons,  prac- 
tised them  little.  The  councils  were  not  the  less  obliged  to 
interfere  energetically  in  order  to  repress  the  rapacity  of  the 
kings  and  the  subaltern  insolence  of  certain  officers  drawn  by 

**"  •'  Defuncto  in  pace  principe,  primates  totius  gentis  cum  sacerdotibus 
succcssore'in  regni  coiiimuiii  concilio  constituant."  —  Cone  iv.  can.  74. 
''  Queiii  ni  c  elcctio  omnium  {jrovehit,  nee  Gothicas  gentis  nobilitas  ad  hunc 
hi  noris  apicem  trahit.  sit  .  .  .  anathemati  condemnatus." —  Cone.  v.  can.  3. 
'*  Nullus  sub  religionis  liubitu  detonsus  .  .  .  servilem  origineiu  trabens,  vel 
extiiuifiB  gentis  bonio   nisi  ginure  et  moribus  dignus." —  Cone.  xvi.  can.  17. 

**'  "  To  qucjque  prffiseiitem  legem  futurosque  t-equentium  ajtatuin  princi- 
pes.  .  .  .  Ne  quisquam  vestrum  solus  in  caiissis  eapitum  aut  rerum  senten- 
tiain  ferat,  sed  consensu  publico  cum  rectoribus.  ...  Si  quis  ex  eis  contra 
reverentiam  legum  superba  doininatione  et  fastu  regie  .  .  .  crudelissimiia 
potestaceui  in  populo  exercuerit." —  Cone.  iv.  can.  75. 


430  ST.  GKEGOKY  THE  GREAT. 

tliem  from  the  servile  classes,  "  When,"  said  the  Fathers  of 
the  eighth  council,  held  in  653,  at  which  the  monk  Eiigenius 
presided  as  bishop  of  Toledo,  and  where  lldefonso  already  sat 
as  abbot  of  Agali,  •'  when  in  time  past  the  frightful  avidity  of 
the  princes  has  thrown  itself  upon  the  goods  of  the  people, 
and  wildly  sought  to  increase  its  wealth  by  the  tears  of  its 
subjects,  we  have  been  inspired  by  a  breath  from  on  high, 
after  having  granted  to  the  subjects  laws  of  respectful  obedi- 
ence, to  pu*  a  check  also  upon  the  excesses  of  the  princes."  ^^^ 
And  the  Fathers  of  the  thirteenth  council,  in  683,  decreed  as 
follows :  '*  We  know  that  many  slaves  and  freedraen,  raised 
b}''  order  of  the  king  to  palatine  offices,  and  affecting  to  ar- 
rogate  to  themselves  a  power  which  the  baseness  of  their 
origin  interdicts,  having  become  by  their  new  dignity  the 
equals  of  their  lords,  have  made  themselves  the  murderers  of 
their  former  masters,  even  of  those  who  gave  them  their 
freedora.  Therefore,  from  this  time,  we  debar  any  serf  or 
freedman  (except  those  of  the  treasury)  from  admission  into  a 
palatine  office."  ^^^ 

Unhappily,  the  efforts  of  these  assemblies  to  restrain  the 
excesses  of  the  princes  and  their  servants  lacked,  like  those 
of  the  nobles  and  clerg}',  a  lasting  guarantee  and  sanction. 
The  Goths  of  Spain,  permitting  the  Roman  spirit  and  man- 
ners to  gain  too  rapid  a  sway  over  them,  gradually  lost  the 
traditions  of  Germanic  institutions  and  liberties.  Unaccus- 
tomed to  those  assemblies  of  free  men  and  that  practise  of 
military  virtue  which  were  always  kept  up  among  the  Franks, 
they  knew  no  way  of  establishing  the  necessary  counterpoise 
to  the  violence  of  the  kings,  which  ended  by  overthrowing 
the  monarchy  of  the  Visigoths  under  the  sword  of  the  Arabs. 
Severities  ^^®  ^^"  ^^^^^  recognize  in  their  ceaseless  but  al- 

a^'ainstthe  ways  impotent  decrees  against  the  Jews,  whom  they 
baptized  by  force,  and  furiously  pursued  even  into 
private  and  domestic  life,  that  implacable  character  of  Spanish 
religion,  which,  two  centuries  before,  had  disgusted  the  great 
soul  of  St.  Martin  against  the  persecutors  of  the  Priscillian- 
ists,25*  and  which  has  almost  always  failed  of  its  aim  by  ex- 
ceeding it,  as  is  proved  by  the  important  part,  more  impor- 

2d2  u  Cum  immoderatior  aviditas  principnm  sese  prona  diffunderet  in  spoliia 
populoruni  .  .  .  nobis  est  divinitus  inspiratum  ut,  quia  subjectis  leges  reve- 
rentiae  dederamus,  principum  quoque  excessus  retinaculum  temperantiae  poa- 
eremus."  —  Concil.  viii.,  ap.  Coletti,  t.  viii.  p.  428. 

"'  Concil.,  iii.  Tolet.,  can.  6,  ap.  Coletti,  t.  vii.  1471. 

^*  See  above,  p.  268. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  431 

tant  here  than  anywhere  elsie,  played  by  Jews,  and  ev^en  b}^ 
Jewesses,  in  the  liifitory  of  the  middle  ages  in  Spain.  By  a 
deplorable  inconsistency,  these  pitiless  measures  had  been 
preceded  by  the  example  of"  the  persuasions  employed  unaided 
by  King  Recarede  in  the  conversion  of  the  Arian  priests,^^^ 
by  the  formal  censure  of  St.  Isidore  against  the  proselytizing 
fanaticism  of  the  Visigoth  kings,  and  by  that  deliverance  of 
(lie  Council  of  633,  which  breathes  the  intelligent  toleration 
of  \ictorious  Christianity:  "'None  can  be  saved  who  do  not 
desire  it.  As  man  fell  by  listening  of  his  own  will  to  the 
serpent,  so,  upon  the  call  of  divine  grace,  man  is  saved,  and 
beli(;ves  only  by  the  voluntary  conversion  of  his  own  soul. 
It  is  not  by  force  but  by  free  will  that  they  can  be  persuaded 
to  conversion."  ^^^ 

It  is  well  known,  besides,  that  most  of  the  laws  passed  by 
the  Council  of  Toledo  concerning  political  affairs  are  em- 
bodied in  that  celebrated  code,  which,  under  the  name  of 
Liber  or  Forum  Judicum  (in  tlie  Castilian  language,  ,y^^^  ^^^^^ 
Fuero  Juezuo),  is    the   principal   basis  of  Spanish  Juezpo 

u     /  f  1  r         _  1  tirst  made 

legislation,  arid  one  of  the  most  curious  monuments  of  out  by  st. 
the  legislative  history  of  Christian  nations.  St.  Isi-  ^"'^*"■^• 
dore  is  believed  to  have  been  the  first  compiler  of  this  record, 
in  which  the  kings  and  bishops  successively  entered,  along 
with  the  decrees  of  the  councils,  the  ancient  Gothic  customs, 
and  some  fragments  of  Roman  law.^^^  It  was  reviewed  and 
arranged  b}'  order  of  King  Egica  in  the  sixteenth  Council  or 
Toledo,  in  693.  This  code  survived  Gothic  Spain  ;  through 
all  the  wretchedness  of  the  Arab  conquest,  and  the  heroic 
struggle  of  the  Spanish  race  against  Islamism,  its  spirit  con- 
tinued to  animate  the  princes  and  assemblies,  and  its  lumi- 
nous trace  through  history  has  always  aided  Spanish  patriot- 
ism in  recalling  its  Christian  origin. 

The  influence  of  the  clergy  is  visible  in  the  didactic  stylo 
of  its  language,  and  still  more  in  the  general  spirit  of  equity 

***  See  above,  p.  417. 

256  it  Y)e  Judaeis  hoc  prsecepit  sancta  synodus  :  neniini  deinceps  ad  creden- 
duin  vim  inferre.  .  .  .  Non  enim  tales  inviti  salvandi  sunt,  sed  volentes : 
sicut  enim  homo,  etc.  .  .  .  Ergo  non  vi,  sed  libera  arb^trii  facultate,  ut  con- 
vertantur  suadendi  sunt,  non  potius  impellendi."  —  Concil.  Toletan.  iv.,  can. 
57.  But  immediately  after,  it  must  be  confessed,  it  is  added  that  those  wlio 
had  been  forced  to  become  Christians  in  the  time  of  King  Sisebut  should  be 
obliged  to  remain  such,  for  this  very  doubtful  reason  :  "  Oportet  ut  fidem 
etiam,  quam  vi  et  necessitate  susceperunt,  tenere  cogantur,  ne  nomen  devi- 
num  hlasphemetur,  et  fides  quam  susceperunt  vilis  ac  contemptibilis  habe- 
atur !  " 

*^'  Arevalo,  Isidoriana,  c.  92. 


432  ST.  GllEGOllY  THE  GREAT. 

which  has  dictated  its  principal  regulations,  in  the  guarantees 
granted  to  slaves,  but  especially  in  the  penalties,  which,  dif 
ferent  from  all  other  Barbarian  codes,  attempt  to  proportion 
punishment,  not  to  the  material  injury  done  or  to  the  rank 
of  the  culprit,  but  to  the  morality  of  the  act.^^^  The  fusion 
of  the  two  races,  conquering  and  conquered,  is  also  made  aj). 
parent  by  the  absence  of  all  those  distinctions  of  right  or 
penally  which,  in  the  laws  of  other  Germanic  nations,  marked 
the  different  origin  of  races  which  inhabited  the  same 
country.  There  is  good  reason  for  regretting  that  this  cele- 
brated code  was  written  during  an  age  in  which  the  primitive 
genius  of  the  Goths  was  vveakened,  and  in  which  Roman 
civilization  had  too  much  effaced  the  strong  individuality  of 
Germanic  institutions  and  national  customs.^^y  But  the  old 
law  of  the  Germans  may  yet  be  found  in  the  theory  of  royal 
rights,  which  recognizes  no  other  legitimate  title  of  power 
than  that  which  results  from  the  morality  and  justice  of  its 
possessors.  We  shall  see  that  theory  retain  all  its  force  amid 
the  great  struggles  between  the  priesthood  and  the  empire, 
and  shall  hear,  even  in  the  times  of  Gregoiy  VII.,  the  voice 
of  the  bishops  and  monks  apply  against  the  emperors  that 
axiom  which  the  Visigothic  code  had  set  forth  so  energetical- 
ly :  ''  Hex  eris,  si  rectefacis  :  si  autemnon/acis,  rex  7ion  eris." 
In  680  the  bishops  made  a  singular  use  of  this 
wmaba  right  of  deposition,  ni  the  case  of  the  old  King 
J^ofi'^'Jn  Wamba,  who,  after  a  glorious  reign,  being  sick  and 
spite  of  poisoned  by  a  Greek,  had  received  the  monastic 
habit  and  tonsure  from  the  hands  of  the  archbishop 
while  he  was  supposed  to  be  in  extremity,  according  to  a 
pious  custom  of  the  time,  habitual  to  those  who  desired  to 
make  a  public  repentance  before  dying.  When  he  came  to 
himself  he  thought  himself  obliged  to  ratify  the  vow  which 
he  had  appeared  to  make,^^'^  and  named  as  his  successoi 
Count  Erwige,  the  son  of  the  man  who  had  poisoned  him. 
He  entered  into  a  monastery,  and  lived  there  seven  years,  in 
holy  obedience  to  his  new  duties  ;  in  the  mean  time,  the 
bishops,  met  in  the  twelfth  Council  of  Toledo,  relieved  his 
subjects  from  their  oaths  of  fidelity,  and  anathematized  the 
enemies  of  the  new  king.     They  afterwards  decreed  a  canon 

^'"^  Albekt  Du  Boys,  Ilistoire  du  Droit  Criminel  des  Peuples  Europcens. 

'^'^  E.  DE  KoziEKE,  Formules   Visigothiques,  Introd. 

*'"*  "Sive,"  says  Mariana  {De  Reb.  Hxsp.,  vi.  14),  "  animi  magnitudine 
rursus  spuinentis,  qua3  alii  per  ignes  t'errumque  petunt;  sive  desperatione 
regiium  recuperandi,  cuiu  Erwigius  reruiu  potiretur." 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  433 

which  took  into  consiclercation  the  case  of  those  who.  having 
desired  the  penitetice  (that  is,  tlie  tonsure  and  monastic  habit) 
while  they  were  in  good  health,  and  having  received  it  with- 
out asking-  it  during  their  illness,  were  desirous  of  returning 
to  military  life  under  pretence  that  they  could  not  be  bound 
by  a  vow  which  they  had  not  made  ;  their  return  is  formally 
interdicted,  because  they  are  regarded  as  pledged,  like  chil- 
dren  who  have  received  baptism  without  being  conscious  of 
it.  But  the  same  canon  forbids  bishops  to  give  the  penitence 
to  those  who  do  not  ask  it,  under  pain  of  a  year's  excommu- 
nication.201  Everything  is  obscure  and  strange  in  this  his- 
tory, which,  nevertheless,  is  too  closely  connected  with 
monastic  annals  to  be  passed  in  silence.  This,  however,  was 
not  the  first  time  that  kings  had  been  obliged  to  become 
monks  in  Spain  ;  a  century  before,  one  of  the  last  kings  of 
the  Sueves  had  been  made  a  monk  against  his  will  by  a  usurp- 
er  :  and  the  latter  had  been  immediately  after  attacked  and 
overcome  by  Leovigild,  w^ho  forced  him,  in  his  turn,  to  enter 
the  cloister,  and  added  the  kingdom  of  the  Sueves  to  that 
of  the  Visigoths.  But  Leovigild  was  an  Arian  persecutor, 
and   an  orthodox  council   might  have    found    belter   exam- 


262 


pie 

In  this  very  country  of  the   Sueves,  during  the  st.Fructuo- 
greater  part  of  the  seventh  century,  the  true  monas-  tic^a^stie*' 
tic  spirit  shed  all  its  lustre  in  the  person  of  St.  '^^^^H^ 
Fructuosus.     "God  created  at  this  time,"  says  a  audot' 
contemporary  monk,  '*  two  great  suns  to  light  these 
western  shores  with  the  rays  of  that   flaming  truth  which 
shone  from  the  Apostolic  See  :  the  one,  Isidore  of  Seville,  re- 
lighted among  us,  by  his  eloquence,  his  writings,  his  wisdom, 
and  active  industry,  the  great  light  of  dogmatic  truth  issued 
by  the  supreme  chair  of  Rome;  the  other,  Fructuosus,  by 
the  immaculate  innocence  of  his  life,  by  the  spiritual  fire  of 
his  contemplations,  made  the  virtues  of  the  first  Fathers  of 
the  desert,  and  the  prodigies  of  the  Thebaid,  shine  into  our 
hearts."  ^3     Issued  from  the  blood  royal,  and  son  of  a  gen- 

""i  Can.  2. 

"•^^  If  a  French  historian  is  to  be  believed,  another  king  of  the  Goths,  the 
young  Tolga,  after  two  years'  reign,  was  deposed  by  an  insurrection  of  the 
nobility,  in  642,  and  forced  to  become  a  monk.  "  Tolganam  degradatum  ad 
honorem  clericati  fecit."  —  Fredegar,  c.  82. 

"^'^  "  Postquam  ...  a  Sede  Romana,  prima  S.  Ecclesiae  Cathedra,  fidei 
cathoUcse  dogmatum  fulgurans  rutilaret  immensitas  .  .  .  atque  ex  ^gypto 
.  .  .  hujus  occiduae  plagae  exigua  perluceret  extremitas.  .  .  .  Divina  pietaa 
duas  inluminavit  lucernas,  etc."  —  Vit.  S.  Fructuosi,  auct.  S.  Valerio,  abb., 
ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  scec.  ii.  p.  657. 
VOL.  I.  37 


434  ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT. 

eral  of  the  Gothic  army,  the  young  Fructuosus,  when  taken 
by  his  father  into  one  of  his  estates  upon  the  frontiers  of 
Galicia  to  take  account  of  his  flocks,  secretly  i.oted  in  hia 
soul  a  site  for  a  future  monastery  in  that  wild  country.  His 
parents  being  dead,  he  withdrew,  after  having  studied  hu- 
mane and  sacred  literature  at  Palencia,  into  the  desert  which 
he  had  chosen  as  a  child,  and  built  a  monastery,  which  he  en- 
dowed with  all  he  had,  and  where  he  was  shortly  joined  b}^  a 
numerous  band  of  monks.^^*  But  he  himself,  flying  from  the 
renown  of  his  virtue,  took  refuge  in  the  woods  and  most  pre- 
cipitous rocks,  that  he  might  be  forgotten  by  all.  One  day 
while  praying  in  a  secluded  spot  in  a  forest,  a  laborer  who 
])assed  by  took  him  for  a  fugitive  slave,  questioned  him,  and, 
dissatisfied  with  his  answers,  overwhelmed  him  with  blows, 
and  led  him  by  a  rope  round  his  neck  to  a  place  where  he 
was  recognized.2^'^  Another  time,  like  St.  Benedict,  he  was 
taken  for  a  wild  beast.  A  hunter,  seeing  him  covered  merely 
with  a  goat-skin,  and  prostrated  upon  the  summit  of  a  rock, 
had  aimed  an  arrow  at  him,  when  he  perceived,  by  seeing 
him  lift  his  hands  to  heaven,  that  it  was  a  man  occupied 
in  prayer.^*^^ 

St  Frucruo-  ^^^  another  occasion,  a  hind,  pursued  by  the  hunts- 
Busandhis  inan  and  almost  hunted  down,  threw  herself  into  the 
folds  of  the  solitary's  tunic.  He  saved  her  and  took 
her  with  him  to  the  monastery  ;  and  the  story  runs  that  the 
monk  and  the  wild  creature  loved  each  other  tenderly.  The 
hind  followed  him  everywhere,  slept  at  the  foot  of  his  bed, 
and  bleated  incessantly  when  he  was  absent.  He  sent  her 
back  more  than  once  into  the  wood  :  but  she  always  again 
found  the  road  to  his  cell,  or  the  footsteps  of  her  liberator. 
One  day  at  last  she  was  killed  by  a  young  man  who  had  no 
goodwill  to  the  monks.  Fructuosus  was  absent  some  days 
on  a  journey;  on  his  return  he  was  astonished  not  to  see  his 
hind  running  to  meet  him,  and  when  he  heard  of  her  death, 
he  was  seized  with  grief,  his  knees  trembled  under  him,  and 
he  threw  himself  upon  the  floor  of  the  church.  Whether  he 
did  this  to  ask  of  God  the  punishment  of  the  cruel  man,  ia 
not  told,  but  the  latter  fell  sick  soon  after,  and  ftegged  the 

^^*  That  of  Compludo  (in  the  diocese  of  Astorga),  wliich  has  been  discussed 
l!<  fore,  on  occasion  of  the  cliarter  of  King  Cyndaswynde,  in  646. 

*''*  "  Eo  traia  con  un  garrote."  —  Yepes,  p.  175. 

'**  "  Loca  nemorosa,  argis  densissinia,  aspera  et  fragosa  .  .  .  capreis  pel- 
libns  indutus.  In  cuju.sdani  rupis  gradibus  .  .  .  quidam  arcistes  .  .  .  cum 
librassel  ictum  ut  dimitteret  sagittam."  —  Yepes,  c.  4. 


ST.  GREGORY  THE  GREAT.  435 

abbot  to  come  to  Iris  aid.  Fruotuosus  avenged  himself  nobl}'', 
and  like  a  Christian  :  he  went  to  heal  the  muiderer  of  his 
hind,  and  restored  him  to  health  of  soul  as  well  as  to  health 
of  body.207 

It  is  pleasant  to  see  such  gracious  and  innocent  tenderness 
in  times  so  rude,  as  well  as  in  those  strong  souls,  born  to 
reign  and  draw  nations  after  their  footsteps.  The  example 
of  tlie  young  Gothic  noble,  whom  love  of  penitence  had 
driven  into  solitude,  became  so  contagious  that  he  had  to 
build  other  monasteries  to  receive  the  immense  choir  of  con- 
veits  who  pressed  upon  his  steps.^"^  The  number  became 
so  great,  that  the  duke  of  one  of  the  provinces  wrote  to  the 
king  to  warn  liim  that  if  some  obstacle  was  not  interposed, 
the  country  would  be  so  entirely  depopulated,  that  there 
w6uld  remain  nobody  to  fill  up  the  ranks  of  the  army.  The 
women  imitated  the  men;  Fruotuosus  received  one  day  a 
letter  from  a  young  girl  of  noble  family,  named  Benedicta, 
betrothed  to  a  garding — that  is,  to  one  of  the  principal  offi- 
cers of,  the  Visigothic  court —  telling  him  that  she  -Yhehe- 
had   escaped   from  her  father's  house,  that  she  was   trothed 

1       •  •       ,1  1  L  V       r  l\  L  bride  of  a 

wandering  ni  the  woods  not  lar  from  tlie  monastery,  ganiing 
and  begging  him  to  have  pity  on  her  as  upon  a  F,ructuo- '''' 
sheep  which  he  must  snatch  from  the  fangs  of  the  *""*• 
wolf.  He  received  her.  and  built  for  her  a  little  cell  in  the 
forest,  which  shortly  became  the  centre  of  a  community  of 
eighty  nuns,  where  mothers  often  came  with  their  daughters 
to  consecrate  themselves  to  God.  The  garding  endeavored 
in  vain  to  recover  his  betrothed  :  he  compelled  the  superior 
of  the  new  monastery  to  bring  to  him  her  who  had  fled  from 
him:  she  came,  but  refused  to  look  at  him,  and  he  remained 
mute  in  her  presence.  Then  the  royal  judge  said,  "  Leave 
her  to  serve  the  Lord,  and  find  for  3^ourself  another  wife."  2*^^ 
We  cannot  record  all  the  marvellous  incidents  in  the  life 
of  the  monastic  patriarch  of  Lusitania.  We  can  only  say  that 
his  austerities  and  endless  journeys  did  not  prevent  him  from 

^'  "  Victa  bestiola  .  .  .  sub  viri  Dei  amphibalum  ingressa  est  ...  si  vel 
paululum  ab  ea  rccederet,  nunquam  balare  cessaret,  quousque  ad  earn  denuo 
re  liret  ...  in  lectulum  ad  pedes  ejus  recubaret.  .  .  .  Sanctissimus  vir  ad 
monasterium  regressus,  sollicite  requisivit  quidnara  causae  esset  cur  caprea 
sua  ei  solito  more  tunc  minime  occurreret.  .  .  .  Qui  mox  genua  sua  sunimo 
cum  dolore  fiectens."  —  Yepes,  c.  10. 

^^'^  "  Ut  catervatim  undique  concurrentium  agmina  conversorum  imraensua 
fieret  chorus."  —  Ibid.,  c.  15. 

269  II  Y)Q  praesentia  regis  levavit  judicem,  qui  inter  eos  examinaret  judicii 
veritatem,  comitem  Angelate  .  .  .  Dimitte  earn  Domino  servire,  et  quaere 
tibi  aliara  uxorem."  —  Yepes,  c.  17. 


436  ST.  GEEGORY  THE  GREAT. 

cultivating  literature,  from  recommending'  its  study  to  hid 
monks,  nor  even  from  giving  himself  to  poetry  ;  for  some  of 
his  verses  are  still  extant.^'O  In  the  regulations  which  he 
composed  for  his  different  houses,  we  find  that  they  kept 
great  flocks  of  sheep,  the  profit  of  which  furnished  them  with 
means  for  the  assistance  of  the  poor,  for  redeeming  captives, 
and  exercising  hospitality.  One  monk  was  specially  charged 
with  the  superintendence  of  the  shepherds. 

Some  years  before  his  death  Fructuosus  was,  against  his 
will,  elevated   to   the   archiepiscopal   see  of   Braga,   by   the 
He  is  made    unanimous  suffrages  of  the  tenth  Council  of  Toledo. 
Arciibishop  But  hc  did  not  cease  to  practise  the  rule  of  monas- 
-ll"      tic  life,  and  to   build  new  monasteries.     And  soon, 
^^'''        thanks  to  his  unwearied  activity,  he   had   covered 
Cantabria  and    Lusitania  with   communities  of  both   sexes. 
He  had  surveyed  all  the  coasts  of  Spain  from  Cape  Finisterre 
to  Cape  St.  Vincent,  crossing  the  embouchure  of  the  rivers 
which  were  to  be  named  Douro  and  Guadalquivir,  reaching 
the  promontories,  the  gulfs,  and  the  islands,  even  to  the  spot 
where  Cadiz  was  to  be,^"^^  and  seeking  everywhere  asylums  for 
prayer  and  solitude.     Thanks  to  him,  the  extreme  frontier  of 
the  West  will  be  guarded  by  a  line  of  monastic  gar- 
oftiie  risons.     The  great  waves  of  the  ocean  rushing  from 

peopled  ^'"^6  shores  of  another  hemisphere,  from  that  half  of 
with  the  world  still  unknown  to  Ciiristians,  will  be  met 

by  the  gaze  and  the  prayers  of  the  monks  from  the 
lofty  cliffs  of  the  Iberian  peninsula.  There  they  shall  stand 
firm,  awaiting  the  Mohammedan  invasion;  there  they  shall 
endure  and  survive  it ;  there  they  shall  preserve  a  nucleus  of 
faith  and  Christian  virtue,  for  those  incomparable  days  when, 
from  those  shores  freed  by  unwearied  heroism,  Spain  and 
Portugal  shall  spring  forth  to  discover  a  new  world,  and  to 
plant  the  cross  in  Africa,  in  Asia,  and  in  America. 

""  S.  Fructuosi  Carmina,  ap.  Florez,  Espana  Sagrada. 

*"  "  Cum  prasfiitam  Gaditanam  ingressus  luisset  insulam  .  .  .  aedificavit 
sanctum  ope  Die  monasterium." — Valerius,  c.  14.  The  particulars  of  the 
numerous  foundations  of  St.  Fructuosus  may  be  seen  in  tlie  great  work  of 
Antonio  de  Yepes,  Coronica  General  de  la  Orden  de  San  Bentto,  folio,  1G09, 
centuria  ii.  pp.  175,  187,  223,  and  following  pages.  This  work,  despite  its 
inaccuracies,  so  often  exposed  by  Mabillon,  is  invaluable  for  everything  con- 
nected with  monastic  Spain 


BOOK    VI. 


THE  MONKS   UNDER  THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS. 


SUMMARY. 

I.  Gaul  Conquered  by  the  Franks.  —  State  of  Gaul  under  the  Eoman 
Empire.  —  Relative  benefits  from  the  invasion  of  the  barbarians.  —  The 
Franks  arrest  and  beat  back  the  other  Barbarians.  —  Character  of  the 
government  of  the  Franks  in  Gaul :  equality  of  the  Gauls  and  Franks.  — 
Fatal  contact  of  Frank  barbarity  and  the  depravity  of  the  Gallo-Romans. 

—  The  nobility  of  tiie  two  races  restrain  the  kings,  wlio  incline  to  au- 
tocracy and  the  Roman  system  of  taxation.  —  Tlie  Franks  alone  escape 
Arianism  :  they  respect  the  liberty  of  religion.  —  Munificence  of  the  Mero- 
vingians towards  the  monasteries,  strangely  mixed  witli  their  vices  and 
crimes.  —  The  monks  secure  the  civilizing  influence  of  the  Church  over 
the  Franks. 

II.  Arrival  of  the  Benedictines  in  Gaul.  —  St.  Maur  at  Glanfeuil  in 
Anjou.  —Propagation  of  the  Benedictine  rule.  —  First  encounter  of  Frank 
royalty  with  the  sons  of  St.  Benedict.  —  Theodebert  and  St.  Maur. 

III.  Previous  Relations  between  the  Merovingians  and  the  Monks. 

—  Clovis  and  his  sons.  — Foundation  of  Micy,  near  Orleans.  —  Cluvis  and 
St.  Maixent.  —  St.  Leobin  tortured  by  the  Franks.  —  Tiie  sister  and 
daughter  of  Clovis  become  nuns :  The  latter  founds  St.  Pierre-le-Vif  at 
Sens.  —  The  monasteries  of  Auvergne,  ransom  of  prisoners  and  refuge  of 
slaves  :  Basolus  and  Porcianus.  —  Thierry  I.  and  St.  Nizier.  —  Clodomir, 
the  Abbot  Avitus,  and  St.  Cloud.  — The  tonsure  and  the  forced  vocations. 

—  Childebert,  the  monastic  king  par  excellence :  his  relations  with  St. 
Eusice  in  Berry,  and  St.  Marculph  in  Neustria.  —  Emigration  of  the  Brit- 
ish monks  into  Armorica  :  continued  existence  of  paganism  in  that  penin- 
sula; poetical  traditions.  —  Conversion  of  Armorica  by  the  British  emi- 
grants.—  Tlie  Christian  bards:  Ysuiio  and  the  blind  Herve.  —  Armorican 
monasteries:  Rhuys;  St.  Matthew  of  the  Land's  End;  Landevenec;  Dol; 
Samson,  Abbot  of  Dol,  and  Archbishop.  —  Tiie  seven  saints  of  Brittany, 
bishops  and  monks.  —  Their  intercourse  with  Childebert.  —  St.  Germain, 
Bisliup  of  Paris ;  Abbey  of  St.  Germain-des-Pres.  —  Clotaire  I.  and  St. 
Medard. — Gregory  of  Tours  and  tlie  sons  of  Clotaire. — Note  on  tlie 
foundations  of  King  Gontran  in  Burgundy.  — The  Abbot  Aredius  protests 

37  *  437 


438  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

against  the  fiscal  system  of  Cliilperic,  and  frees  his  serfs.  — Maternal  love 
and  monastic  song. 

IV.  St.  Radegund.  —  Her  origin  and  her  captivity.  —  Clotaire  makes  her 
his  wife.  —  Note  on  S.  (.' -nsortia. — Radegund  takes  the  veil  from  the 
hands  of  St.  Medard,  establishes  lierself  at  Poitiers,  and  founds  there  the 
monastery  of  St.  Croix.  —  Clotaire  wishes  to  reclaim  her :  St.  Germain 
prevents  him.  —  Cloister  life  of  Radegund.  —  Her  journey  to  Aries.  —  Her 
relations  with  Fortunatus.  —  Her  poetry. —  Her  indifference  to  the  outer 
world;  her  solicitude  for  jieace  among  the  Merovingian  princes. —  Her 
austerities.  —  Her  friendship  for  the  Benedictine  St.  Junian.  — They  both 
died  on  the  same  day.  — Revolt  of  the  nuns  of  St.  Croix  under  Chrodield 
and  Basine,  princesses  of  the  Merovingian  blood. — This  occurs  at  the 
time  of  the  arrival  of  Columba,  the  great  Celtic  missionary,  in  Gaul. 

V.  The  Monks  and  Nature.  —  State  of  the  forests  of  Gaul  from  the  fifth 
to  the  seventh  century.  —  Invasion  of  solitude ;  St.  Liepiiard  at  Meung- 
sur-Loire :  deserts  in  Gaul.  —  The  monks  in  the  forests.  —  St.  Seine  in 
Burgundy. — St.  Imier  in  Jura.  —  St.  Junian  in  Limousin. — The  ancho- 
rites of  tiie  woods  transformed  into  monks  by  the  multitude  which  followed 
tliem.  —  St.  Laumer  in  Perche.  —  St.  Magloire  in  Armorica  and  Jersey. 

—  Donations  of  Frankish  nobles,  some  accepted,  others  refused ;  St.  Lau- 
mer once  more;  popular  discontent.  —  St.  Malo. 

The  monks  and  the  brigands:  St.  Seine  and  St.  Evroul.  — The  monks  and 
the  hunters  :  Brachio  and  the  wild  boar,  at  Menat.  —  Right  of  shelter  for 
game.  —  St.  Calais  and  his  bufl'alo;  Cliildebert  andUltrogotha.  —  St.  Mar- 
culph  and  his  hare.  —  St.  Giles  and  liis  hind.  —  The  Abbess  Ninnok.  — St. 
Desle  and  Clotaire  II.  —  St.  Basle  and  his  wild  boar.  —  St.  Laumer  and 
his  hind.  —  Supernatural  empire  of  the  monks  over  the  animals,  the  con- 
sequence of  man's  return  to  innocence.  —  Miracles  in  History.  — Vives, 
Titus  Livius,  De  Maistre.  —  The  monks  and  the  wild  beasts  in  tlie  Thebaid. 

—  Gerasimus  and  his  lion.  —  St.  Martin  and  his  plungeons.  —  St.  Benedict 
and  his  raven.  —  The  monks  and  the  birds  in  Gaul :  St.  Maxent;  St.  Val- 
ery  ;  St.  Calais;  St.  Malo;  St.  Magloire.  —  Sites  of  monasteries  indicated 
by  animals:  Fecamp.  —  St.  Tiderry ;  St.  Berchaire  at  Hautvilliers. — 
Domestication  of  fallow-deer  by  the  monks :  Celtic  legends  :  the  wolves 
and  stags  :  Herve,  Pol  de  Leon,  Colodocus.  —  St.  Leonor  and  the  stags  at 
the  plough.  —  Agricultural  works  of  the  monks  in  the  forest.  —  Clearing. 

—  St.  Brieuc.  —  Fruit  trees.  —  Various  occupations.  —  Influence  of  their 
example  on  the  rural  population.*.  —  St.  Fiacre  and  his  garden.  —  Karilef 
and  his  treasure.  —  Theodulph  and  his  plough.  ■ —  Solicitude  of  the  monks 
for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  the  peasants.  —  Council  of  Eouen.  — The  for- 
est canticle,  the  monastic  spring  in  tlie  woods. 


THE  FIRST  MEllOVINGIANS.  439 

Si  quid  lioc  in  opere  vobis  praeclarnm  vidchitur,  id  veterum  est,  iis  impcrtiro"  riuam 
merentur  laudein.  At  mo  sicubi  conjectiira  fd'cllit.  si  iioii  sum  scriptorum  sciitLnitJam 
probe  assecutus,  si  adulterinum  aliquod  scriptnm  pro  lofri  iino  susccpi,  si  rcspui  quod 
rectum  erat  et  purum,  date  veniam  et  me  admouete.  —  Bollandus,  Ada  Sanctorum,  t.  i. 
p.  xiiv.  (e). 

I.  —  GAUL  CONQUERED  BY  THE  FRANKS. 

We  have  overstepped  the  course  of  time  to  indicate  all 
that  monastic  institutions  owe  to  the  greatest  of  popes,  and 
what  they  became  in  the  Iberian  peninsula  under  leadei's  im- 
bued with  his  spirit.  We  must  now  go  back  a  century  and 
cross  the  Alps  and  Pyrenees,  to  concentrate  our  narrative  in 
Gaul,  in  that  countiy  where  Marraoutier,  Lerins,  Condat,  and 
other  great  foundations  had  not  exhausted  the  monastic  im- 
pulse, and  where  Pi'ovidence  destined  the  Benedictine  tree 
to  sLoot  out  its  most  vigorous  and  productive   branches. 

In  the  year  of  St.  Benedict's  birth,  Clovis  bef2;an 

-  .  ^  480 

to  reign  over  the  Salian  Franks,  and  during  the 
whole  lifetime  of  the  patriarch,  Gaul,  disputed  by  the  Franks 
against  the  Goths  and  Burgundians,  gradually  yielded  to  the 
powerful  ])ressure  of  the  Merovingians  and  their  conquering 
bands.  The  evils  which  accompanied  that  conquest  are 
known.  But  the  condition  to  Avhich  the  rule  of  condition 
Rome  had  I'educed  Gaul  when  the  Franks,  comine;  ofG'"^"' 
last  alter  so  many  other  Barbarians,  took  it  tor  their  uoman 
prey,  should  not  be  forgotten.  Under  the  emperors,  '^^  '^' 
Rome  had  carried  corruption  into  all  the  provinces  of  the 
world  which  under  the  republic  she  had  conquered.  Tacitus 
shows  us  that  every  seat  of  Roman  administration  was  a  per- 
manent school  of  oppression  and  depravity,  where  avarice 
and  sensuality  reigned  always  insatiable  and  unpunished. ^ 
Of  the  old  Gauls  who  had  overrun  Spain,  Italy,  Greece,  and 
even  Asia  Minor;  who  had  filled  the  V'orld  with  the  din  of 
their  arms  and  the  terror  of  their  name  ;  who  had  conquered 
Rome  ;  whom  Rome  had  afterwards  vanquished  and  enslaved, 
but  whom  she  had  never  surpassed  nor  even  equalled  in 
heroism  and  greatness  of  soul,  —  of  these  men  none  remained. 
The  tyranny  of  the  Caesars  had  annihilated  them.  In  vain 
their  sons  rose  under  Augustus,  Tiberius,  Nero,  and  Ves- 
pasian, protesting  thus  against  the  pretended  amelioration  in 
the  fate  of  the  Roman  provinces  under  the  Empire.  Vainh", 
from  age  to  age,  had  Gaul,  in  despair  of  regaining  her  inde- 
pendence, attelnpted  to  cheat  her  misery  by  imposing  Gaul- 
ish emperors  on  Rome.     In  vain  the  insurgent  and  halt-Chris- 

'  Compare  Dokllingek,  Heidenthum  und  Judenihum,  p.  728. 


440  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

tian  Bagaudes  had  meditated  the  substitution  of  a  kind  of 
Gaulish  empire  in  place  of  the  Roman.  Ground  down  by  the 
merciless  millstone  of  the  imperial  government  and  taxation, 
Gaul  had  1-ost  its  nationality,  its  civil  and  municipal  institu- 
tions, its  territorial  v/ealth,  its  ancient  Celtic  tongue,  and 
even  its  name,  one  after  the  other;  its  inhabitants  were 
known  only  under  the  name  of  Romans,  a  name  which  for 
them  was  the  symbol  of  decrepitude  and  shame.^  In  place 
of  their  ancient  national  worship  —  Druidical  sacrifices,  which 
were  interdicted  under  pain  of  death  —  the  hideous  idolatry 
of  the  Cassars,  whom  a  vile  senate  declared  divine,  was  im- 
posed upon  them.  That  dauntless  courage  which  had  hitherto 
pointed  them  out  to  the  admiration  of  the  world,  had  disap- 
peared with  their  liberty.^  The  ruling  classes  were  en- 
slaved and  degraded,  while  the  lower  ranks  of  the  people  had 
gained  nothing:  on  the  contrary,  in  proportion  to  the  exten- 
sion of  great  estates,  the  husbandmen  found  their  lot  aggra- 
vated, and  the  universal  servitude  weighed  upon  them  with 
a  crushing  yoke.  The  free  clients  of  whom  Ca3sar  speaks 
had  disappeared.  The  Gaulish  chiefs,  transformed  into 
degenerate  patricians,  had  the  vast  estates  on  which  they 
scarcely  ever  lived  cultivated  by  slaves,  like  the  plantations 
of  our  colonies  before  the  emancipation  of  the  negroes.^  It 
has  been  calculated  that  there  scarcely  remained,  in  the  time 
of  Constantine,  a  million  of  freemen  in  all  that  immense 
region.^ 

The  Church  alone  remained  erect,  the  sole  as_ylum  of  hu- 
man dignity  and  freedom,  under  this  frightful  oppression. 
She  alone  putsome  check  upon  injustice  and  tyranny,mitigated 
the  overwhelming  poverty  of  the  people,  encouraged  agri- 
culture in  her  own  lands,  I'etained  in  her  bosom  the  memory 
and  practice  of  popular  election,  and  assured  Defenders,  in 

*  "  Tl>e  state  of  the  Gauls  under  the  imperial  government  was  one  of  the 
most  debasing  and  cruel  political  slavery."  —  Mile,  de  L^SzardiIire,  Theorie 
des  Lois  Politiques  de  la  France.  "The  title  of  Roman  citizens  which  the 
Gauls  bore  had  long  belonged  only  to  slaves."  —  Mablt,  Observations  sur 
Vllistoire  de  France,  t.  i.  p.  '2,^'i. 

^  "  Aniissa  virtute  pariter  et  libertate."  —  Tacitcis  Agric,  ii. ;  Ayin.  xi. 
]8;    Germ.,  2S.     Doellinger,  Ileidenthum  vnd  Judenthum,  pp.  (jll-6l'd. 

*  See  the  excellent  summary  of  the  oppression  and  ruin  of  the  Gauls  under 
Roman  dominion,  wliich  is  given,  after  many  otlier  writers,  by  Sir  James 
Stephen,  Lectures  on  the  History  of  France  (London),  1859,  t.  i.  p.  57.  As 
to  the  details,  M.  Guizot,  in  his  Fssais  sur  V Histoire  de  France,  and  his 
second  lesson  of  tlie  course  for  182-i,  has  been  surpassed  as  yet  by  none, 
except  perhaps  by  Le  Huerou,  in  ciiap.  viii.  of  his  Origines  Merovingiennet 
(Paris),  18i3. 

^   Henri  Martin,  Histoire  de  France,  t.  i.  p.  292,  4th  edition. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  441 

tlie  persons  of  her  bishops,  to  cities  abandoned  or  ransomed 
by  their  magistrates.  But  her  influence,  far  from  being  pre- 
ponderant, could  only  struggle  imperfectly  against  the  uni- 
versal decay,  and  had  no  power  to  reproduce  those  civic  vir- 
tues which  were  stifled  like  the  free  cities  under  the  cosmo- 
politan despotism  of  the  emperors,^  Four  centuries  of 
Roman  government  had  been  enough  to  divest  Gaul  of  all  law 
and  order  in  civil  affairs,  as  well  as  of  all  national  and  personal 
independence.  How  could  such  a  population,  debased  and 
exhausted  by  a  rule,  the  very  weakness  of  which  increased 
its  minute  and  imbecile  tyranny,  resist  the  repeated  inroads 
of  the  Barbarians?  The  Arverne  aristocracy  alone,  which 
seemed  to  be  animated  still  by  the  spirit  of  the  great  Vercin- 
getorix,  and  which  had  retained  popular  sympathy  by  some 
unknown  means,  struggled  with  the  obstinacy  of  despair 
against  the  Visigoths  in  the  first  place,  and  then  against 
the  sons  of  Clovis.  Everywhere  else  the  Barbarian  domina- 
tion was  accepted  as  a  kind  of  deliverance. 

And  indeed  it  actually  was  such,  for  the  German   jiut„^T^i 
nations  brought  with  them  that  manly  eneray  which   advantages 

o  ^  ^/  ^  o./  Q^  ^i^Q  liar- 

the  serfs  of  the  empire  lacked.  Life  had  every-  bariaain- 
where  ebbed  away  ;  the  conquerors  brought  a  new  ^''^'°"- 
life  to  the  soil  which  they  invaded,  as  well  as  to  the  men 
whom  they  incorporated  under  their  victorious  sway.  All 
that  remained  of  the  nobility  of  Gaul  saw  them  appear  with 
terror;  but  what  had  the  rural  colonists  and  humble  towns- 
people to  lose  by  this  change  of  masters?  On  the  contrary, 
they  could  only  gain  by  the  destruction  of  that  Roman  system 
of  taxation,  the  most  rapacious  that  was  ever  dreamed  of. 
To  take  for  themselves  a  portion,  the  half  or  a  third,  of  landed 
property  and  slaves,  as  did  the  Burgundians  and  Visigoths, 
but  at  the  same  time  to  exempt  the  remainder  from  all  those 
exactions  which  under  the  Romans  compelled  the  landowners 
to  abandon  all  they  possessed  to  the  treasury,  was  to  bring 
an  evident  and  real  relief  to  an  insupportable  state  of  things.^ 
As  for  the  Franks,  there  is  no  evidence  that  they  ever 
decreed  general  confiscations.  The  discoveries  of  modern 
study  have  proved,  on  the  contrary,  that  they  generally  re- 
spected the  pi'ivate  property  of  the  Gallo-Romans.  Accord- 
ing to  all  appearance,  they  contented  themselves  with  the 

®  Stephen,  loc.  cit. ;  II.  Mautin,  p   332. 

'  Paul  Roth.,  Geschichte  der  Benrjizialwesens ;  Leo.  Ursprung  des  Deut- 
ichen  Volkes  und  Reiches,  p.  324;  Cantu,  Storia  degV  Italiatii,  ch.  63;  Stet 
phen,  loc.  cit.,  p.  300;  Le  Huekou,  p.  2(J8. 


442  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

lands  which  were  at  first  conceded  to  them  by  the  eraperora, 
and  with  the  vast  stretclies  of  uncultivated  soil,  abandoned 
in  consequence  of  the  universal  impoverishment,  which  they 
shared  among  themselves  by  lot,  and  which  were  called  allodia, 
while  their  kings  appropriated  the  immense  estates  of  the 
imperial  treasury.  Let  us  add,  that  in  expelling  the  Roman 
magistrates,  they  seem  to  have  interfered  little  with  munici- 
pal government,  but  to  have  left  the  principal  part  of  it  in 
the  hands  of  the  bishops,  and  we  shall  be  able  to  conceive 
how,  as  the  latest  of  our  historians  affirms,  the  mass  of  the 
people  had  more  horror  for  the  pedantic  and  systematic  op- 
pression of  the  empire,  than  for  the  brutal  and  capricious  sway 
of  the  Barbarians.^ 

Besides,  the  Romans  of  the  empire,  as  has  been  often  re- 
marked, carried  into  Gaul  a  principle  proper  to  themselves, 
the  fatal  principle  of  the  supremacy  of  cities.  The  Germans, 
on  the  contrary,  in  their  primitive  state,  knew  no  life  but 
that  of  the  fields,  a  rural  and  sylvan  existence.  The  village 
was,  as  it  may  still  be  seen  in  India,  the  foundation  of  their 
national  life.  In  conquering  Gaul,  they  restored  life  to  its 
plains  ;  the}'  created  there  the  village,  the  free  and  rural 
community,  and  emancipated  them  from  the  sway  of  towns ; 
they  constituted  there  the  most  influential  element  in  the  new 
nationality.  This  preponderance  was  only  more  and  more 
manifested  and  consolidated  in  proportion  as  the  feudal  sys- 
tem developed  itself  and  struck  root  in  the  soil. 
The  Franks  '^^0  Franks  Conferred,  besides,  a  crowning  ser- 
arrestaiid  yice  ou  Gaul,  which  slie  had  looked  for  in  vain  from 
tiiootiier  the  last  emperors.  St.  Jerome  has  left  us  a  formi- 
Barbariaus.    ^j^^j^^jg  }j^^  ^f  ^|-jq  barbarian  nations  which  had  invaded 

her  lands  under  imperial  rule.  -'The  countries  that  lie  be- 
tween the  Alps  and  Pyrenees,  between  the  Rhine  and  the 
sea,  have  been  devastated  by  the  Quade,  the  Vandal,  the 
Sarmate,  the  Alain,  the  Gepid,  the  Herule,  the  Burgonde,  the 
Aleman,  and,  oh-supreme  calamity  !  by  the  Hun."^  Coming 
after  all  these  ferocious  predecessors,  each  of  whom,  except 
the  Burgondes,  had  only  passed  through  Gaul  like  a  tempest, 
the  Franks  debarred  from  entrance  the  other  pagan  nations 
who  pressed  upon  their  steps.  They  turned  against  the  cur- 
rent by  which  they  had  themselves  been  brought.  They 
made  vigorous  head  against  the  Alemans,  the  Saxons,  the 

*  Henri  Martin,  p.  354.     Le  Huerou  furnishes  proof  of  this  by  undeni- 
able evidence,  op.  cit.,  p.  251. 

*  Epist.  ad  Ageruchiam,  t.  iv.  p.  748,  edit.  1706. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  443 

Slaves,  and  the  Avars,  who,  but  for  them,  would  have  crossed 
the  Rhine  and  invaded  Gaul.  Becoming  Christians,  not  in  a 
body  or  all  at  on3e  in  the  train  of  Clovis,  as  has  been  errone- 
ously supposed,  but  very  gradually  and  slowly,!*^  they  set 
their  face  against  the  enemies  of  Christendom.  They  re- 
mained, long  after  their  conversion,  as  wild,  fierce,  and  cruel 
as  before.  They  were  not  transformed  in  a  day.  Two  cen- 
turies of  fratricidal  wars  between  the  Merovingian  kings 
demonstrate  this  only  too  clearly,  while  they  also  prove  the 
superstitious  veneration,  the  pagan  idolatry,  which  the  Franks 
entertained  for  that  long-haired  dynasty,  the  scions  of  which 
they  deposed  and  murdered  one  by  one,  but  apart  from  which 
no  one  among  them  had  yet  dreamt  of  seeking  chiefs  of  a 
different  race. 

Their  barbarism  cannot  be  denied ;  we  must  not  character 
only  believe  all  that  historians  have  said  of  thera,   oithe 
but    add    that    here,  as  throughout    all    antiquity, 
these  narratives  are  far  from  reaching  the  full  extent  ''  of 
unknown    tyranny,   unpunished   rapine,  and    unavenged    de- 
struction." ^1    But  we  must  not  believe  that  the  Franks  were, 
as  has  been  assumed,  less  civilized,  less  human,  and  greater 
oppressors  than  the  other  Barbarians.     In  no  point  of  view 
do  they  deserve  a  lower  place  than  ihe  Visigoths  or  Burgun- 
dians.     They  had  evidently  as  much  inclination   and   attrac- 
tion towards  the  cultivation  of  the  mind  and  literature.     The 
chapel  which  the  Merovingian  kings  instituted  in  the  earliest 
times  of  the  J"  conversion,  with  the  school  which  was    pahitjne 
immediately  attached  to  it,  as  an  inseparable  appen-  ^f'^'fig'"" 
dage  to  the  royal  residence,  became  soon  a  nursery  youn-no- 
of  zealous  and  learned    clerks,   where    the    young     '  '*^" 
Frank  and   Gallo-Roman  Lobility  drew  such  instruction  as 
was   best  adapted  to  their  time   and  habits.     The  important 
charges  of  the  Church  and  court  were  given  to  those  who 
had  distinguished  themselves  there.i^     All  the  biographies  of 

'"  More  than  a  century  after  Clovis,  we  still  find  pagans  among  Franks  ot 
the  roost  elevated  rank.  St.  Lupus,  bishop  of  Sens,  exiled  by  Clotaire  II. 
about  615,  was  intrusted  to  the  care  of  a  duke  called  Boson,  who  was  still 
pagan,  and  who  occupied  the  shores  of  the  Oise :  "Ubi  erant  templa  phana- 
tica  a  decurionibus  culta  .  .  .  priedictum  dticera  vitali  tinxit  in  Ihv.uto,  pluri- 
mitmque  Francorum  exercitum,  qui  adhuc  erroris  detinebatur  hiqueis,  illunii- 
nnvit  per  baptismuni."  —  Act.  SS.  Boll.\nd..  t.  1  Sept..  p.  259.  Tlie  second 
successor  of  St.  Colomba  at  Bobliio,  tlie  Abbot  Buriulf,  who  died  in  640,  was 
of  pagan  birth,  although  a  near  relation  of  St.  Arnoul,  bishop  of  Metz.  It  will 
be  seen  hereafter,  that  a  great  proportion  of  the  Franks  established  in  Belgi- 
um remained  idolaters  even  in  the  eighth  century. 

"  OzANAM,  Etudes  German.,  t.  ii.  p.  502. 

'*  i\'umerous  and  precise  details  on  this  subject  are  to  be  found  iu  UHis- 


444  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

tlie  saints  are  unanimous  in  stating- this  fact;  and  Gregory  of 
ToTirs   confirms  it,  by  speaking  of  the  palatine  erudition  aa 
of  a  kind  of  ecclesiastical  and  political  novitiate  which  was 
in  active  operation  under  the  grandsons  of  Clovis.i^ 
„     ...      „       It  is  still  more  certain  that  the  oppression  of  the 

Equality  of  i  i        t-<         i 

the  Franks    Gall  »-Komans  by  the  Jj  ranks  was  never  systematic, 

and  Gauls.  •11  1  j  1    a  xi 

nor  SO  specially  cruel  and  complete,  as  a  theory 
cleverly  upheld  in  our  own  days,  but  contradicted  by  all  con- 
temporary writers,  would  have  it  to  be.  Doubtless  in  the 
north-east  district  of  Gaul,  which  was  the  first  occupied  by 
the  Franks,  who  were  then  entirely  pagan,  the  Roman  popu- 
lation was  cruelly  spoiled  and  maltreated,  if  not  entirely  ex- 
terminated. But  after  their  conversion,  in  proportion  as  they 
approached  the  Loire,  and  especially  when  the}'  spread  them- 
selves to  the  south  of  that  river,  the  Gallo-Romans  are  seen 
to  have  preserved  all  their  property,  and  to  have  enjoyed 
absolutely  the  same  rights  as  their  conquerors.  Among 
the  Franks,  as  among  the  Gauls,  poor  men,  artisans  and 
slaves,  are  to  be  seen,  as  well  as  rich  men  and  nobles.  The 
nobles  of  Gaul,  and  members  of  those  families  called  sena- 
torial, occupied  the  same  rank  as  under  the  Roman  empire, 
and  were  associated  in  the  court  and  military  retinue  of  the 
Merovingian  kings  with  the  leudes  and  antrustlons  of  Frank- 
ish  race.  The  Gallo-Romans  are  everywhere  found  in  the 
highest  ranks,  not  only  in  the  Church,  where  they  had,  up  to 
the  end  of  the  sixth  century,  almost  exclusive  possession  of 
the  bishoprics,  but  among  the  companions  of  the  Icing,  among 
the  dukes  and  counts,  at  the  head  of  armies,  and  even  in  the 
offices  of  the  rcyal  household,  which  might  well  have  been 
exclusively  reseived  for  the  companions  and  compatriots  of 
the  prince. 

It  is  at  the  same  time  necessary  to  remark  the  difference 
established  by  the  Salic  law  in  the  rate  of  compensation  due 
for  murders  committed  upon  the  Franks  and  upon  the 
Romans,  from  which  we  perceive  that  the  life  of  a  Roman  is 
estimated  at  half  the  value  only  of  that  of  a  Frank.  Except 
that  single  particular,  in  which  the  natural  pride  of  the  victor 
manifests  itself,  no  trace  of  radical  distinction  is  to  be  found 
between  the  conquering  and  conquered  races.     The  Gallo- 

toire  de  St.  Leger,  by  Doni  Pitra,  p.  114,  and  Appendix.  This  word  chapel, 
as  synonymous  with  oratory,  is  derived,  according  to  Ducange,  from  the  lit- 
tle cape  or  cloak  of  St.  Martin,  which  was  one  of  the  most  noted  Merovingian 
relics. 

"   Vit.  S.  Aredii  Abbatis,  c.  3. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  445 

Roman   retained  his   private  rights,  but  was  subject  to  the 
same  laws  and  obtained  the  same  guarantees  as  the  Frank. 
As  for  public  rights,  he  was  exposed,  like  the  Frank,  but  not 
more  than  he,  to  the  atrocious  violences  which  daily  broke 
out  in  that  society,  and  which  were  as  often  originated  by 
himself  as  by  the   Frank  or  Burgundian.^^     For  there  were 
Gallo-Romans  as  deeply  imbued  as  the  Barbarians  with  that 
ferocity  which  is  inspired  by  the  possession  of  uncontrolled 
wealth  and  strength.     They  had  their  share  in  almost  all  the 
crimes  and  treacheries  which  appear  in  the  annals  of  this  un- 
happy period.     It  has  been  said  with  justice,  "  The  patai  con- 
greatest  evil  of  Barbarian  government  Avas  perhaps  tactbe- 
the   influence   of  the  greedy  and  corrupt  Romans,   Frank  bar- 
•;vho  insinuated   themselves  into  the  confidence  of  oaVio'-^"'* 
their  new  masters."  1^     It  is  to  them  especially  that  Roman  de- 

1  •'        _  pravity, 

those  refinements  of  debauchery  and  perfidy,  which 
it  is  so  surprising  to  find  amid  the  savage  brutality  of  the 
German  tribes,  should  be  attributed.  They  instructed  their 
conquerors  in  the  art  of  oppression,  and  taught  them  how  to 
degrade  their  compatriots,  by  means  which  the  natural  ob- 
tuseness  of  the  Goths  and  Teutons  could  never  have  sug- 
gested. The  Barbarians  derived  no  advantage  from  their 
contact  with  the  Roman  world,  depraved  as  it  was  under  the 
empire.  They  brought  with  them  manly  virtues,  of  which 
the  conquered  race  had  lost  even  the  recollection  ;  but  they 
borrowed,  at  the  same  time,  abject  and  contagious  vices,  of 
which  the  Germanic  world  had  no  conception.  They  found 
Christianity  there  ;  but  before  they  yielded  to  its  beneficent 
influence,  they  had  time  to  plunge  into  all  the  baseness  and 
debauchery  of  a  civilization  coriaipied  long  before  it  was 
vanquished.  The  patriarchal  system  of  government  which 
characterized  the  ancient  Germans,  in  their  relations  with 
their  children  and  slaves  as  well  as  with  their  chiefs,  fell  into 
ruin  in  contact  with  that  contagious  depravity. 

At  a  later  period,  when  the  Christian  spirit  had  established 
its  empire,  and  when  all  the  old  Roman  remains  had  been 
absorbed  and  transformed  by  the  German  element  under  the 
first  Carlo vingians,  the   evil  lessened,  and  if  it  did  not  dis- 

"  Roth  and  Leo,  in  the  works  already  quoted,  and  Waitz  {Deutsche  Ver- 
fassungs  Geschichte),  have  shown  beyond  dispute  this  identity  of  position  be- 
tween the  Frankish  and  Gaulish  nobility  under  the  Merovingian  sway :  the 
Abbe  Dubos  had  made  it  the  basis  of  his  absurd  system  on  the  absence  of  all 
conquest. 

'*  Henri  Maktin,  t.  i.  p.  394.  Compare  Augcstin  Thierry,  Recitt 
Merov.,  t.  ii.  p.  45,  and  Albert  Du  Boys,  Histoire  du  Droit  Criminel, 

VOL.  L  38 


146  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

appear  completely,  all  the  nations  of  Christendom  at  least 
could  con-^titute  themselves  under  laws  and  manners  which 
they  needed  neither  to  blush  for  nor  to  complain  of.  But  at 
the  period  of  which  we  treat  nothing  could  be  more  sad  than 
the  first  fusion  of  Germanic  barbarism  and  Roman  corruption. 
All  the  excesses  of  a  savage  condition  were  then  combined 
with  the  vices  of  a  civilization  learnedly  depraved.  From  1  his 
perverse  and  fatal  origin  flow  these  revolting  abuses  of  seign- 
orial  right,  which,  continued  and  developed  by  the  course 
of  time,  debased  the  feudal  system  and  made  it  so  unpopular. 
And  here  we  must  seek  the  secret  of  these  monstrous  exam- 
ples of  treason  and  ferocity  which  appear  on  almost  every 
page  of  the  narrative  of  Gregory  of  Tours,  and  throw  a  san- 
guinary light  upon  the  early  pages  of  our  history. 
Thekin^s  Theuce,  also,  came  the  attempts  of  the  Merovin- 
showaiT  gian  kings  to  re-establish  and  aggravate  the  Roman 
towMrJs  system  of  taxation.  Sometimes  it  was  the  churches 
despotiTm"  trom  which  they  exacted  the  payment  of  a  third  of 
and  taxing-    their   revenues ;  ^^  sometimes    it    was    the    poll-tax 

Bvstem.  I  •    1        1  -1  11-1  I        ■!-> 

which  they  tried  to  estabhsh,  not  as  among  the  Ro- 
mans, upon  the  plebeians  without  landed  property,  but  upon 
all,  and  first  on  the  Franks  themselves.  But  here  the  old 
Germanic  law  took  the  upper  hand.  Even  in  the  absence  of 
the  national  assemblies,  which  seem  to  have  been  suspended 
during  the  reign  of  Clovis  and  his  immediate  successors, i"" 
the  resistance  was  energetic  and  triumphant.  The  Merovin- 
gian kings  had  vainly  manifested  an  inclination  to  imitate  the 

despotism  of  the  Roman  emperors,  for  they  had  al- 
restrahiod  ways  to  reckou  with  the  Frank  nobles,  who  would 
nobufty  of  ^^^^  reuounce  the  freedom  of  their  ancestors  upon 
the  two        goil  conquered  by  themselves,  and  who,  reinforced 

by  the  descendants  of  the  old  chivalrous  races  of 
Gaul,^^  soon  formed  around  the  throne  an  aristocracy  at  once 
civil  and  warlike,  free  and  powerful,  as  proud  of  its  origin  na 
of  its  rights,  and  resolved  not  to  be  reduced  to  the  vile  level 
of  the  Roman  senate. ^^     According  to  the  old  privilege  of 

'«  Gkeg.  Tur.,  iv.  2. 

"  Waitz,  Deutsche  Verfassungs  Geschichte,  tit.  ii.  p.  480. 

"*  The  Equites,  of  whom  Caesar  speaks,  with  their  dependants,  whose 
analogy  with  German  manners  he  did  not  understand,  and  wiiose  position  he 
has  not  sufficiently  distinguished  from  sevitude. 

'*  Terms  which  prove  the  great  importance  attached  to  birth  are  to  be  found 
on  every  page  of  the  contemporary  authors,  and  especially  in  the  Lives  of  the 
Saints:  seniores,  potentes,  meliores,  nobiles.  .  .  .  Glaro  stemmateortus.  .  .  . 
Ex  progeniecelsa  Fraiicorum  Prosapia  Francorwm  altis  satis  ei  nobilihul 
parentibus,  &c.     Compare  Waitz,  op.  cit. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.-  447 

German  freedom,  they  assumed  the  riglit  of  speaking  out  on 
every  subject,  interfering  actively  in  all  public  interests,  re- 
sisting all  usurpations,  and  striking  down  the  guilty.^''  Their 
superstitious  regard  for  the  Merovingian  blood,  their  tradi- 
tional devotion  to  the  person  of  the  chief,  led  thein  to  fill 
domestic  offices  about  the  persons  of  their  kings,  which  among 
the  ancient  Romans  were  reserved  for  slaves,  but  which  bore 
no  servile  character  among  the  German  races,  and  were,  on 
the  contrary,  the  privilege  of  the  principal  men  of  the  nation, 
who  were  called  IrustyP^  But  this  loyalty  did  not  prevent 
them  from  opposing  to  the  violence  of  their  master  other  out- 
breaks of  violence  not  less  dreadful,  and  often  not  less  ille- 
gitimate. "  Farewell,"  said  a  deputation  of  Austrasiau  lords 
to  King  Gontran  of  Burgundy,  grandson  of  Clovis  —  "fare- 
well, oh  king  !  we  take  leave  of  thee,  reminding  thee  that 
the  axe  which  has  broken  the  head  of  thy  brethren  is  still 

bright ;  and  it  shall  be  thy  brains  next  which  it  will  dash 
oat."  22 

By  what  prodigious  change  did   these   scarcely-  coimection 
baptized  Barbarians  become  the  cherished  nation  of  of  *''^ 
the  Church,  and  the  chosen  race  of  Christendom?  witiithe 
This  will  be  seen  by  the  following  narrative.     In  the   ^*'"''''"'- 
mean  time,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that,  by  a  singular  priv- 
ilege, they  were  never  Arians.     They  alone,  among  They  alone 
all  the  Barbarian  conquerors  of  the  empire,  never  IromArian- 
permitted  their  energy  and  simplicity  to  become  the  '^m. 
victims  of  that  heresy,  which   exercised  an  inexplicable  as- 
cendenc}'^  over  all  the  Germanic  tribes,  and  which,  overcome 
among  the  old  Christians,  formed  for  itself  a  triumphant  asy- 
lum among  their  .conquerors.     Closing  Gaul  against  the  other 
Barbarians,  and  assuring  Catholic  unity  within  her  by  pur- 
suing heresy  without  open  persecution,  Avas  to  render  two 
crowning  services  to  new-born  Christendom.     South  of  the 
Loire,  the  Catholic  population,  which  was  too  well  aware  of 
the  persecutions  raised  against  the  orthodox  clergy  in  Spain 
and  Africa  by  the  Arian  Barbarians,  passionately  longed  for 
the  government  of  the  Franks.^s     It  was  for  this  reason  that 
St.  Remy  said  to  the  detractors  of  Clovis,  "  Much  must  be 

*"  Aug.  Thierry,  Recits  Merovingiens,  tit.  ii.  p.  95.. 

^'  Antrvstion,  man  in  the  confidence  (trust)  of  the  chief,  a  term  translated 
in  the  Latin  version  of  the  Salic  law  by  that  of  conviva  regis, 

**  "  Valedicimus  tibi,  o  rex.  .  .  .  Scinius  solidam  esse  securim  .  .  .  ce- 
lerius  tuum  librabit  defixa  cerebrum."  —  Greg.  Turon.,  lib.  vii.  c.  14. 

"  "  Amore  desiderabili."  —  Greg.  Turon.,  Hist.  Eccl.,  lib.  ii.  c.  23. 


448  THE  MO^^KS  UNDER 

pardoned  to  him  who  has  been  the  propagator  of  the  faith', 
and  the  saviour  of  provinces."  This  explains  without  justi- 
fying those  terms  of  adulation  which  most  of  the  ecclesiastical 
writers  have  addressed  to  princes  whose  public  and  private 
life  was  stained  with  atrocious  crimes.  Different  fromi  the 
B_yzantine  emperors,  who  interposed  the  authority  of  the 
state  in  spiritual  affairs  on  all  occasions,  and  who  believed 
themselves  better  theologians  than  the  bishops,  they  meddled 
little  in  theolog}^,  and,  except  in  the  too  numerous  cases 
where  the}'  tampered  with  the  freedom  of  episcopal  elections 
in  favor  of  their  domestics  or  followers,  they  left  the  Church 
The  Mero-  entirely  independent  in  matters  of  faith  and  disci- 
vingians  plinc.  They  displayed,  also,  great  liberality  to  the 
thrfVeedom  Ijishops  and  monks  :  they  did  not  content  themselves 
of  faith.  with  restoring  to  the  Church  all  that  had  been  taken 
from  her :  they  selected  from  the  immense  possessions  which 
had  become  crown-lands  by  conquest,  at  the  same  time  as 
they  divided  the  land  into  benefices  for  their  trusty  laymen, 
Their  lib  othcr  vast  territories,  mostly  uncultivated,  desert, 
eraiityto-  qj.  covered  with  inaccessible  forests  with  which 
asteries.  they  endowed  the  principal  monasteries  erected 
during  the  Merovingian  period.^^  The  great  farms,  or  towns, 
where  the  Frankish  kings  held  their  court,  in  the  centre  of 
agricultural  labors,  were  repeatedly  transformed  into  religious 
establishments.^^ 

strangely  And  yet  they  were  sad  Christians.     While  they 

witifllces  respected  the  frendom  of  the  Catholic  faith,  and 
and  crimes,  made  external  profession  of  it,  they  violated  without 
scruple  all  its  precepts,  and  at  the  same  time  the  simplest 
laws  of  humanit3\  After  having  prostrated  'themselves  be- 
fore the  tomb  of  some  holy  martyr  or  confessor,  after  having 
distinguished  themselves  by  the  choice  of  an  irreproachable 
bishop,  after  having  listened  respectfully  to  the  voice  of  a 
pontiff  or  monk,  we  see  them,  sometimes  in  outbreaks  of  fury, 
sometimes  by  cold-blooded  cruelties,  give  full  course  to  the 
evil  instincts  of  their  savage  nature.  Their  incredible  per- 
versity was  most  apparent  in  the  domestic  tragedies,  the 
fratricidal  executions  and  assassinations,  of  which  Clovis  gave 
the  first  example,  and  which  marked  the  history  of  his  son 
and  grandson  with  an  ineffaceable  stain.     Polygamy  and  per- 

"  The  royal  treasury  is  mentioned  in  the  first  well-authenticated  charter 

of  Clovis,  in  favor   of  the  Abbey  of  Micy,  near  Orleans Ap.  Brequignt, 

No.  6. 

**  For  63  ample,  Ebreuil,  in  Auvergne, 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINtGHANS.  449 

jury  njinj2;led  in  their  daily  life  with  a  semi-pai^an  sny)ersti' 
tion ;  and  in  reading  these  bloody  biographies,  scarcely 
lightened  by  some  transient  gleams  of"  faith  or  humility,  it  is 
difficult  to  believe  that,  in  embracing  Christianity,  they  gave 
up  a  single  pagan  vice  or  adopted  a  single  Chiistian  virtue. 

It  was  against  this  barbarity  of  the  soul,  far  more  alarming 
than  grossness  and  violence  of  manners,  that  the  Church 
triumphantly  struggled.  From  the  midst  of  these  frightful 
disorders,  of  this  double  current  of  corruption  and  ferocityj 
the  pure  and  resplendent  light  of  Christian  sanctity  was 
about  to  rise.  But  the  secular  clergy,  itself  tainted  by  the 
general  demoralization  of  the  two  races,  was  not  sufficient 
for  this  task.-*^     They  needed  the  powerful  and  soon   ,.„ 

.  •  1 II  o  m  o  n  k  8 

preponderating  assistance  of  the  monastic  army.      It  cnmoto 
did  not  fail:  the  Church  and  France  owe  toit  the   civuiziny 
decisive  victory  of  Christian  civilization  over  a  race   in<i"';'"'^e  of 

i-/r>       1  11  11  tneChurcb. 

much  more  ditncult  to  subdue  than  the  degenerate 
subjects  of  Rome  or  Byzantium.  While  the  Franks,  coming 
from  the  north,  completed  the  subjugation  of  Gaul,  the  Bene- 
dictines were  about  to  approach  from  the  south,  and  super- 
impose a  pacific  and  beneficent  dc^minion  upon  the  Germanic 
Barbarian  conquest.  The  junction  and  union  of  these  forces, 
so  unequal  in  their  civilizing  power,  were  destined  to  exer- 
cise a  sovereign  influence  over  the  future  of  our  country. 


II.  — ARRIVAL  OF  THE  BENEDICTINES  IN  GAUL. 

The  fame  of  Benedict  and  his  work  had  not  been  slow  to 
cross  the  frontiers  of  Italy  ;  it  resounded  specially  into  Gaul. 
A  year  before  the  death  of  the  patriarch,  two  envoys  arrived 
at  Monte  Cassino  from  the  Gallo-Roman  prelate.  Innocent, 
bishop  of  Mans,  who,  not  content  wath  forty  monasteries 
wliich  had  arisen  during  his  episcopacy  in  the  country  of  the 
Cenomans,  still  desired  to  see  his  diocese  enriched  by  a  colony 
formed  by  the  disciples  of  the  new  legislator  of  cenobites  m 
Italy.  Benedict  confided  this  mission  to  tl'e  dearest  and 
most  fervent  of  his  disciples,  a  young  deacon  named  ^^ij^i^jonof 
Maurus,  of  patrician  origin  like  himself,  who  had  sr.  Maur 
worthily  prepared  himself  for  these  distant  labors  by 

*^  Leo  (op.  cit.)  lias  very  justly  remarked,  that  owing  to  the  demoraliza- 
tion of  the  native  clergy,  the  complete  conversion  of  the  Franks  was  a  longer 
and  more  arduous  task  to  the  ecclesiastical  and  monastic  apostles  of  Gaul 
than  the  conversion  of  England,  or  even  of  Germany,  had  been,  where  aU 
was  done  in  a  single  stroke  by  a  body  of  foreign  missionaries  and  monks. 
38* 


450  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

outdoing  the  austerities  of  tbe  Rule,  and  who  seemed  to  be 
regarded  by  the  whole  community  as  the  natural  successor 
of  their  founder.  He  gave  him  four  companions  (one  of 
whom  has  written  the  history  of  the  mission),^'  and  bestowed 
upon  him  a  copy  of  the  Rule,  writteu  with  his  own  hand, 
together  with  the  weights  for  the  bread  and  the  measure  for 
the  wine  which  should  be  allotted  to  each  monk  every  day, 
to  serve  as  unchanging  types  of  that  abstinence  which  waa 
to  be  one  of  the  strongest  points  of  the  new  institution. 
His  jour-  At  the  head  of  this  handful  of  missionaries,  who 

"^'y-  went  to  sow  afar  the  seed  destined  to  produce  so 

groat  a  harvest,  Maurus  came  down  from  Monte  Cassino, 
crossed  Italy  and  the  Alps,  paused  at  Agaune,  the  sanctuary 
which  the  Burgundian  monarch  had  just  raised  over  the 
relics  of  the  Theban  legion,^^  then  went  into  the  Jura  to  visit 
the  colonies  of  Condat,  and  doubtless  to  make  the  rule  of  his 
master  known  there.  Arrived  upon  the  banks  of  the  Loire, 
and  repulsed  by  the  successor  of  the  bishop  who  had  called 
him,  he  stopped  in  Anjou,  Avhich  was  then  governed  by  a 
viscount  called  Florus,  in  the  name  and  under  the  authority 
of  the  king  of  Austrasia,  Theodebert,  the  grandson  of  Clovis. 
This  viscount  offered  one  of  his  estates  to  the  disciple  of 
Benedict,  that  he  might  establish  his  colony  there,  besides  giv- 
ing one  of  his  sons  to  become  a  monk,  and  announcing  his 
own  intention  of  consecrating  himself  to  God.  Maurus  ac- 
cepted the  gift,  but  only  by  a  formal  donation,  and  before 
witnesses  ;  "  for,"  he  said  to  the  Frank  lord,  "  our  observances 
require   peace  and  security  above  all."  -^      In  this  estate, 

=*'  The  Life  of  St.  Maur,  by  his  companion,  Faustus,  has  suffered  some 
grievous  interpolations  in  the  ninth  century,  according  to  the  Acta  Sanctorum 
Ordinis  S.  Benedicti,  by  U'Achery  and  Mabillon.  Father  Papebroch  (ap. 
BoLLAND.  d.  IG  and  22  May)  regards  it  as  completely  mendacious.  But  the 
authenticity  of  his  mission,  and  of  the  principal  features  of  his  biography, 
contested  by  Basnage  and  Baillet,  has  been  victoriously  demonstrated  by  Ma- 
billon himself  {Prcef.  in  Scec.  I.,  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.),  and,  above  all,  by  Dom 
Ruinurt  in  tiie  Appendix  of  Vol.  I.  of  the  Annales  Benedictines  of  Mabillon. 
Comjuire,  also,  the  learned  Tlistoire  des  Evtques  dii  Mans,  by  Doni  Piolin,  a 
Benedictine  of  Solesmes,  1851,  t.  i.  p.  237.  This  last  work  includes  some 
very  valuable  details  on  the  propagation  of  cloistral  life  in  Maine  during  the 
sixth  century. 

2"  See  above,  p.  291. 

^  "  Observatio  Ordinis  nostri  summam  deposcit  quietem  et  securitatem. 
.  .  .  Te  tradente  nobis  coram  testibus.  .  .  .  Scripto  Testamento  tradidit  ei 
omnia  et  de  suo  jure  in  ejus  delegavit  potestatera  atque  dominium." —  Vit. 
S.  Mauri,  c.  42,  43.  This  passage  may  be  one  of  the  interpolations  of  the 
ninth  century  pointed  out  by  Mabillon;  nevertheless,  we  have  instanced  it  aa 
one  of  the  first  examples  of  the  forms  employed  for  donations  of  this  nature, 
so  numerous  subsequent  to  the  sixth  century  in  Gaul. 


THE  FIEST  MEROVINGIANS.  451 

bathed  by  the  waters  of  the  Loire,  he  founded  the  monastery 

of  Glanfeuil,  which  afterwards  took  his  own  name.^*^ 

The   site    of  this    monastery,  now  lost  among  the   Giann-uii, 

vineyards  of  Anjon,  merits  the  grateful  glance  of  iicncUiLine 

every  traveller  who  is  not  insensible  to  the  advan-  j^°Qi|yi'^''y 

tages  which  flowed  from  that  first  Benedictine  colo- 

ny  over  entire  France. 

With  a  touching  and  legitimate  reminiscence  of  ancient 
mijnastic  glory,  Maurus  consecrated  one  of  the  four  churches 
or  chapels  of  his  new  abbey  to  St.  Martin,  who  had  founded, 
at  no  great  distance,  and  on  the  banks  of  the  same  river,  the 
still  celebrated  sanctuary  of  Marmoutier,^!  .^^-^^^  anotlier  to  St. 
Severin,  that  Roman  monk  who,  on  the  banks  of  the  Danube, 
subdued  the  ferocity  of  the  Barbarians  while  he  blessed  the 
future  of  Odoacer.  The  beloved  son  of  St.  Benedict  spent 
forty  years  at  the  head  of  his  French  colony ;  he  saw  as 
many  as  a  hundred  and  forty  monks  officiate  there  ;  and  when 
he  died,  after  having  lived  apart  for  two  years  in  an  isolated 
cell,  to  prepare  himself  in  silence  for  appearing  before  God,^^ 
he  had  dropped  into  the  soil  of  Gaul  a  germ  which  could 
neither  perish  nor  be  exhausted;  and  which,  a  thousand 
years  after,  was  to  produce  under  the  very  name  of  the 
modest  founder  of  Glanfeuil  a  new  efllorescence  of  monastic 
genius  destined  to  become  the  synonyrae  of  laborious  learning, 
and  one  of  the  most  undisputed  glories  of  France.^"^ 

A  certain  obscurity  hangs  over  the  early  progress  Prorrressof 
of  the  Benedictine  rule  in  Gaul  after  the  first  foun-  cu.^riue'ruie 
dation  of  St.  Maur.  We  have  already  pointed  out  i"  wuui. 
the  progress  of  cenobitical  life  due  to  the  great  schools  of 
Marmoutier,  Lerins,  and  Condat,  before  the  age  of  St.  Bene- 
dict.    This  progress  did  not  diminish  after  him,  since  eighty 

*"  St.  Maur-sur-Loire.  The  relics  of  Maurus  remained  there  until  the 
ninth  century,  when,  for  fear  of  the  Normans,  they  were  transferred  to  St. 
Maur-les-Fosses,  near  Paris,  another  monastery  which  will  be  often  men- 
tioned. 

^'  See  p.  269.  To  judge  of  the  influence  which  was  exercised  over 
Gaul  by  the  great  Martin,  founder  of  Marmoutier,  two  centuries  after  his 
lifetime,  we  nmst  read  the  four  books  by  Gregory  of  Tours,  entitled  Be 
Miraculis  S.  Martini,  of  which  the  Societe  de  Vllistoire  de  France  has  just 
published  a  new  edition,  revised  by  M.  Bordier. 

2*  "Biennio  ante  mortem  siluit  sejunctus  ab  hominibus,  et  solus  in  superni 
inspectoris  oculis  habitavit  secum."  —  Breviarium  Monasticum. 

'*  Tlie  brotherhood  of  St.  Maur,  immortalized  by  the  works  of  Mabillon, 
Montfaucon,  Ruinart,  and  many  others,  was  created  in  1G18.  It  sprang  from 
the  association  formed  by  various  very  ancient  abbeys  for  the  adoption  of  the 
reform  introduced  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century  in  the  monasteries  of 
liorraine  by  Dom  Didier  de  la  Cour,  abbot  of  St.  Vanne. 


452  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

new  establishments  can  be  reckoned  during  the  course  of  the 
sixth  century  alone  in  the  valleys  of  the  Saone  and  Rhone, 
ninety-four  between  the  Pyrenees  and  the  Loire,  fifty-four 
from  the  Loire  to  the  Vosges,  and  ten  from  the  Vosges  to  the 
Rhine. ^*  This  was  a  renewed  and  more  complete  conversion 
of  that  great  countr3^  Each  province  by  degrees  received 
for  its  apostles  holy  monks,  who  were  also  often  bishops,  and 
who  founded  at  the  same  time  dioceses  and  monasteries,  the 
latter  destined  to  be  citadels  and  nurseries  of  the  diocesan 
clergy.2'5 

The  councils  of  the  Gauls  were  more  and  more  frequently 
occupied  with  questions  of  monastic  discipline,  without,  how- 
ever, noting  any  special  congregation.  They  showed  them- 
selves animated  by  the  spirit  which  dictated  the  famous  canon 
of  the  General  Council  of  Chalcedon  in  451,  in  virtue  of 
which  monks  were  placed  under  the  control  of  bishops.  That 
ofAgde,  in  511,  renewed  the  prohibition  against  founding 
new  monasteries  without  the  knowledge  of  the  bishop.  Those 
of  Orleans  (511,  and  especially  533),  of  Epaone  (517),  and  of 
Aries  (558),  completely  subjected  monasteries  to  the  author- 
ity and  superintendence  of  the  bishops.  The  abbots  could 
neither  be  absent  nor  dispose  of  any  of  the  property  of  the 
community  without  episcopal  permission ;  once  a  year  they 
were  to  wait  upon  their  bishop  to  receive  his  advice,  and  if 
need  were  his  corrections.^*^  The  Council  held  in  the  Basil- 
ica of  St.  Martin  at  Tours,  in  567,  which  quotes  Seneca  in  its 
fourteenth  Canon  in  favor  of  the  precautions  to  be  taken 
against  the  scandal  of  incontinence,  pronounces  the  penalty 
of  excommunication  in  Canon  XV.  against  every  monk  who 
should  marry,  and  against  every  judge  who  should  refuse  to 
declare  the  dissolution  of  such  a  marriage.  But  by  the  great 
number  of  different  rules  and  successive  reforms,  and  still 
more  by  the  narratives  of  violence  and  abuse  which  Gregory 
of  Tours  has  honestly  transmitted  to  us,  the  resistance  met 
with  by  the  Christian  ideal  of  monastic  life  may  well  be  un- 
derstood. 

How  did  all  these  communities,  so  numerous  and  diverse, 
come  to  recognize  the  Benedictine  Rule  as  that  which  was  to 
insure  their  existence   and   prosperity?     This  can  only  be 

'^  M.  Mignet  lias  taken  tiiese  numbers  from  the  Benedictine  Annals  of 
Mabillon.  See  his  fine  Mcmoire  sur  la  Conversion  de  VAllemagne  par'  Its 
Moines,  p.  32. 

^•'  "  Ut  urbis  esset  munimentum." —  Vie  de  S.  Domnole,  bishop  and  foun« 
der  of  St.  Vincent-du-Mans,  c.  4,  ap.  Bollanu.,  1(3  Mail. 

'*  Concil.  Aurel.,  an.  511,  c.  19. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  453 

discovered  in  some  liouses  more  or  less  celebrated.  It  wah 
not  llie  work  of  one  of  those  sudden,  radical,  and  ephemeral 
transformations  to  which  modern  history  has  accustomed  us  ; 
it  was  the  slow  and  instinctive  progress. of  an  institution 
which  sought  the  conditions  of  permanent  durability.  The 
conquest  was  made  gradually  and  imperceptibly.^''  But  it  is 
undeniable  that  this  progress  was  universal,  despite  the  for- 
midable rivalry  of  the  Rule  of  St.  Columba  ;  and  not  less  un- 
deniable is  the  liact  that  the  mission  of  St.  Maurus  was  tho 
channel  by  which  the  sovereign  paternity  of  the  Italian  legis- 
lator extended  by  degrees  to  all  the  monasteries  of  Gaul.'^^ 

This  mission  marks  out  besides,  in  history,  the  j-irst  meet- 
first  encounter  of  the  Benedictine  order  with  that   insof  the 

.  Moroviu- 

French    monarchy,   then   only  dawning  under    the   gianmon- 
shield  of  Clovis  and  his  descendants,  but  which  we   fho'ijeue- 
shall  see  through  many  centuries  the  faithful  and   ^"'*"'*'*- 
gratei'ul  ally  of  the  sons  of  St.  Benedict.  The  district  of  Anjou 
in  which  Glanfeuil  was  situated  fell  to  the  lot  of  that  grand- 
son of  Clovis,  named  Theodebert,^^  who  reigned  at  Metz  and 
over  Austrasia.     It  was  he  from  whom  the  Viscount  Florus, 
according  to  tradition,  had  to  obtain,  first  the  necessary  au- 
thority for  the  establishment  of  the  ibreign  monks,  and  then 
permission  to  enroll  himself  among  them.     This  king,  cele- 

^'  "Nunquam  nobis  venit  in  nientem  ut  asserere  vclimus  omnia  aut  plera- 
que  G;illiarum  monasteria,  advenicnte  Mauro,  Bencdictinam  regulam  statiin 
admisissc.  .  .  .  Quae  postea  sensim  sine  sensu  ita  per  alia  monasteria  sequen- 
tibus  annis  propagata  t'uerit,  donee  tandem  sola  prtevalueritin  toto  Galliarum 
imperio."  —  D.  Ruinart,  in  Append.  Annal.  Bened.,  torn.  i.  p.  G36. 

^®  Tlie  formal  testimony  of  St.  Odillon,  tbe  celebrated  abbot  of  Cluny  is 
as  follows  :  "  Post  Kancti  Benedicti  ex  hac  vita  migrationem,  per  Beatum 
Mauruni  illius  discipuluin  omnis  pene  Gallia  ejns  instiiutiones  et  religionis 
instituta  suscepit,  atque  per  eumdem  Maurum,  eosque  quos  ille  ad  justitiara 
eiudivit,  per  longa  temporiim  spatia,  eadem  religio  ad  perfectionis  cumulum 
excrevit."  —  Odilo,   Vit.  S.  Maioli,  ap.  Siirium,  II  Mail. 

^^  Professor  Roth,  in  bis  important  work  entitled  Geschiclite  der  Beneficial- 
wesens  (Eiiangen,  1850,  p.  440),  takes  pains  to  show  the  fictitious  character 
of  this  narrative,  grounding  his  argument  on  tbe  fact  that,  in  the  division  of 
Gaul  among  the  Frankisb  kings,  Anjou  belonged,  not  to  Theodebert,  but  to 
Childebcrt,  and  that  this  province  only  fell  at  a  later  period  into  the  hands  of 
a  king  of  Atistrasia  of  the  same  name,  Theodebert  II.,  who  reigned  from  596 
to  602.  But  we  can  answer  with  Ruinart,  that  nothing  is  less  certain  than 
the  exact  limitation  of  the  provinces  with  whicli  the  sons  of  Clovis  con.-tituted 
the  different  parts  of  their  kingdoms,  and  nothing  more  strange  than  the  sub- 
division of  all  the  territory  situated  south  of  the  Loire.  Another  learned 
contemporary  who  has  devoted  his  attention  to  the  origin  of  Frank  royalty, 
Professor  Leo,  proves  that  Thierry,  tlie  father  of  Theodebert,  and  the  eldest 
of  the  sons  of  Clovis,  exercised  a  sort  of  sovereignty  over  the  estates  of  his 
brothers,  and  that  his  possessions  surrounded  all  parts  of  the  patrimtmies  of 
the  latter.  —  See  Des  Deutschen  Volkes   Ursprung  uud  Werdeii,  1854,  p.  353 


454-  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

brated  in  the  history  of  the  Merovingians  for  liis  exploits  in 
Aqiiitaine  against  the  Visigoths,  and  in  Italy  against  the  im- 
perial forces,  consented  very  reluctantly  to  part  with  one  of 
his  principal  oiScers,  and  only  after  having  himself  visited  the 
new  colony.  He  came  with  all  the  pomp  which  the 
betwwT^  race  of  Clovis  were  so  prompt  to  borrow  from  the 
an^cf  st'''"''^*  fallen  empire ;  but,  clothed  in  his  purple  as  he  was, 
M.uir  iit  as  soon  as  he  perceived  Maur,  the  Frank  king  pros- 
trated himself  before  the  Roman  monk,  as  Totila 
prostrated  himself  before  Benedict,  entreating  the  abbot  to 
pray  for  him,  and  to  inscribe  his  name  among  those  of  the 
brethren.  He  presented  his  young  son  to  the  communit}', 
desired  that  the  monks  who  had  come  from  Monte  Cassino 
with  the  abbot  might  bo  specially  pointed  out  to  him,  asked 
their  names,  and  embraced  them  and  also  their  brethren. 
Then  he  surveyed  the  monastic  precincts,  ate  with  the 
monks  in  the  refectory,  and  before  he  went  away,  desired  that 
the  chief  of  his  scribes  should  make  out  on  the  spot,  and  seal 
with  his  ring,  the  donation  of  an  estate  belonging  to  the 
crown,  which  he  intended  to  bestow  on  the  monastery. 
Piorus  afterwards  obtained  the  king's  consent  to  witness  his 
profession  as  a  monk.  After  having  added  new  gifts  to  his 
first  donation,  the  viscount  freed  and  portioned  twenty  of  his 
slaves;  then,  having  laid  his  military  sword-belt  on  the  altar, 
he  knelt  before  the  king,  who,  at  the  request  of  the  abbot, 
cut  the  first  lock  of  his  hair;  the  tonsure  was  then  completed 
b}'  the  other  nobles  present.  Before  leaving  the  monastery 
the  king  desired  to  see  his  old  friend  in  the  monastic  dress; 
he  exhorted  him  to  do  honor  to  that  new  habit,  as  he  had 
done  honor  to  secular  life,  then  threw  himself  into  the  arms 
of  Florus  and  wept  there  before  he  withdrew,  carrying  with 
him  the  benediction  of  the  abbot.*'' 

Thus  the  Frank  king  and  the  Benedictine  became  acquainted 
with  each  other,  and  these  two  forces  which  were  to  found 
France,  to  direct  and  represent  her  during  long  centuries, 
stood  lace  to  face  for  the  first  time. 

Admitting  even  that  this  tale  may  have  been  embellished, 

4(1  "  Regali  indutus  purpura  liumiliter  prosti-atus.  .  ,  .  Qui  cum  nos  digito 
desienasset,  in  parte  nos  stare  prsecipiens,  intuebatur  attentius,  nomen  unius 
cujusque  seiscitans.  .  .  .  Aiisebalduin,  qui  scriptoribus  testamentorum  rega- 
lium  praeerat  .  .  .  ut  de  ejus  annulo  regali  firmaret  more.  .  .  •  Cinguhim 
miliiise  .  .  .  super  aitare  mittens.  .  .  .  Rex  primus  de  coma  capitis  ejua 
totondit.  .  .  .  Florum  sibi  amantissimum  ad  se  deduci  prscepit,  qui  .  .  . 
monacliali  jam  indutus  habitu  .  .  .  diutius  in  osculis  ejus  immoratur."  — 
Faustus,   Vit.  S.  Mauri,  c.  4y-62. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  455 

In  its  minute  details,  by  the  imagination  of  after  ages,  it  is 
worthy  of  being  remembered  as  a  sort  of  type  of  those  inti- 
mate and  cordial  relations  which  began  to  exist  from  that 
time  between  the  princes  of  Germanic  race  and  the  monks, 
and  which  are  to  be  found  almost  on  every  page  of  their 
double  history. 


III.  —  PREVIOUS    RELATIONS    BETWEEN   THE  MEROVINGIANS 
AND  THE   MONKS. 

God  hath  not  given  us  the  spirit  of  fear;  but  of  power,  and  of  love,  and  of  a  sound 
mind.  —  2  TiM.  i.  7. 

This  was  not,  however,  the  first  time  that  the  Merovingi- 
ans had  met  the  monks  on  their  way.  By  the  side  of  bishops, 
who  personified  the  gentle  and  strong  majesty  of  the  Church, 
and  whose  children  the  Franks  had  just  declared  themselves 
to  be,  they  had  everywhere  discovered,  sometimes  isolated 
recluses,  sometimes  monks  living  in  a  community  whose 
strange  privations,  painful  labors,  and  irreproachable  virtues 
bore  eloquent  witness  to  the  moral  grandeur  of  Christian  doc- 
trines. The  life  of  these  kings,  divided  between  war  and  the 
chase,  brought  them  perpetually  in  contact  with  those  whom 
all  the  world  agreed  in  calling  men  of  God,  whether  in  the 
towns  and  rural  districts  ravaged  by  their  soldiers,  or  in  the 
forests  hunted  by  their  hounds.  In  spite  of  all  we  have  said 
regarding  the  strange  and  hateful  mixture  of  deceit  and  fero- 
city, wild  incontinence  and  savage  pride,  which  characterized 
the  Merovingian  princes,  in  spite  of  the  fatal  alloy  which 
Gallo-Roman  corruption,  immediately  after  their  conversation 
and  conquest,  added  to  the  traditional  barbarity  of  the  race, 
it  is  impossible  to  deny  the  sincerity  of  their  faith,  and  the 
influence  which  Christian  virtue  and  penitence  almost  always 
exercised  upon  them.  They  passed  with  a  rapidity  which 
now  seems  incomprehensible  from  the  atrocious  excesses  of 
their  native  cruelty  to  passionate  demonstrations  of  contrition 
and  humility.  After  having  directed  massacres  or  executions 
which  rank  among  the  most  odious  recollections  of  history, 
we  see  them  listening  with  respect,  and  pardoning  without 
difficulty  the  warning  of  a  bold  chief,  or  still  more  frequently 
of  a  pontiff  or  monk.  For  it  was  almost  always  monks  or 
bishops  who  had  been  trained  in  cloistral  life,  who  drew  from 
them,  in  the  name  of  God,  a  tardy  and  incomplete  homage  to 
justice  and  humanity. 


456  THE  MONKS  UXDEK 

Clovis  himself  paid  repeated  tribnto  to  these  vir 
founds  tues.  The  foundation  of  several  abbeys  has  been 
oSnr'""  attributed  to  him.  though  without  suflScient  proof.*' 
—  But  one  charter  of  his  is  received  as  authentic,  in 
which  a  profession  of  his  faith  in  the  indivisible  and 
co-substantial  Trinity,  which  proves  his  title  to  be  considered 
the  sole  Catholic  king  existing  in  Christendom,  which  was 
then  wasted  by  Arianism,  precedes  a  grant  of  land  and 
an  exemption  from  imposts  in  favor  of  a  monastery  near 
Orleans,  which  soon  became  celebrated  under  the  name  of 
Micy,  and  then  of  St.  Mesmin.  This  last  name  was  derived 
from  Maximin,  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  little  colony  of 
Arverne  monks,  whom  Clovis  established  there  under  the 
direction  of  the  holy  priest  Euspicius,  who  had  gained  his 
heart  at  the  siege  of  Verdun,  by  his  mission  into  the  besieg- 
ing camp  itself  to  implore  mercy  for  the  Gallo-Roman  insur- 
gents in  that  town.^s  He  had  given  them  an  estate  belonging 
to  the  royal  Jiscus  or  treasury,  situated  at  the  point  of  the 
peninsula  formed  by  the  Loire  and  Loiret  at  the  junction  of 
their  w-aters,  in  order,  as  his  charter  states,  that  these  Reli- 
gious should  be  no  longer  strangers  and  travellers  among 
the  Franks.43 

Qtjjpr  A  legend  long  popular  in  Touraine  declares  the 

monastic  fine  abbatial  Church  of  St.  JuHan,  near  Tours,  to 
foucerning  mark  the  spot  where  the  conqueror  of  the  Visigoths 
'°^'^'  stopped  to  bestow  his  alms,  wlien,  on  horseback 
and  with  the  crown  on  his  head,  he  came  to  offer  thanksgiv- 
ings to  St.  Martin  for  his  victor}^  at  Vouill^.*^ 

Another  tradition,  recorded  by  Gregory  of  Tours,  shows 
still  better  the  feeling  which  consoled  and  animated  the  inhab- 

"'  Molosme,  St.  Michael  of  Tonnerre,  Nesle,  &c. 

**  Vit.  S.  Maximini,  abb.  3h'ciac.,  n.  4  to  9.  Ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  i. 
p.  564,  ed.  Venet. 

*^  '-Inter  Francos  peregrin!." — Brequigny,  who,  in  his  great  collection 
{Diplomata  Chnrice,  &c.,  t.  i..  Preface,  p.  8;  Paris,  1791,  folio),  disputes  all 
the  diplomas  attributed  to  Clovis  for  Keomaus,  St.  Pierre-le-Vif,  &c.,  ac- 
knowledges the  authenticity  of  that  given  by  Clovis  to  St.  Euspicius  and  to 
St.  Maximin  for  Micy.  The  memory  of  this  famous  abbey  has  been  revived 
in  our  days  by  the  secondary  seminary  of  the  diocese  of  Orleans,  established 
at  La  Cliapelle  St.  Mesmin,  not  far  from  the  site  of  Micy.  On  tlie  opposite 
shore  of  tiie  Loire,  by  an  example  of  respect  for  antiquity  very  rare  among 
us,  the  grotto  where  the  body  of  St.  Maximin  was  deposited  has  been  restored 
and  preserved  by  the  care  of  M.  Collin,  chief  engineer  of  the  navigation  of 
the  Loire,  and  has  been  since  devoted  to  divine  service,  and  inaugurated  by 
M.  Dupanloup,  bishop  of  Orleans,  13th  June,  1858. 

''■*  Martyrology  of  1469,  quoted  by  Salmon,  Recueil  des  Chroniques  dt 
Toiiraine,  p.  53. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  457 

itants  of  Gaol,  when  tbey  saw  their  dreaded  conquerors  bow 
before  the  sanctity  of  monks  of  their  own  race.  This  ciovis  and 
tradition  relates  that,  during-  the  march  of  the  army  st.Maixent. 
of  Clovis  across  Poiton  to  encounter  Alaric,  a  band  •''^^• 
of  Franks  attacked  a  monastery,  governed  by  a  holy  monk 
named  Maxentius,*'^  from  Agde  in  Septimania;  one  of  the 
Barbarians  had  raised  his  sword  to  kill  the  abbot,  when  his 
arm  was  suddenly  paralyzed,  and  his  companions  were  struck 
with  blindness  around  him.  Clovis,  when  he  heard  of  the 
miracle,  hastened  to  the  monk, and,  on  his  knees, begged  mercy 
for  tlie  assassins.*^  The  spot  where  the  victor  of  Syagrius 
and  Alaric  knelt  before  a  Gal!o-E,oman  monk,  and  acknowl- 
edged a  force  more  invincible  than  all  the  Roman  or  Barbari- 
an arms,  was  shown  for  several  centuries  in  the  church  of  the 
monastery. 

But  it  was  not  always  with  such  impunity  that  the  monks 
were  exposed  to  contact  with  their  ferocious  conquerors, 
and  evil  often  fell  upon  them  wdiile  representing  religion, 
with  all  the  benefits  and  progress  that  flowed  from  it,  to  the 
eyes  of  the  sanguinary  and  covetous  hordes,  whose  fury 
might  sometimes  be  repressed  by  the  power  of  a  Clovis,  but 
whose  chiefs  were  ordinarily  the  first  to  give  the  example 
of  violence.  These  Franks  who  were  so  zealous  for  ortho- 
doxy, and  who  boasted  of  fighting  for  the  Church  against  the 
Burgundians  and  Arian  Visigoths,  did  not  hesitate  when 
their  passions  were  inflamed  to  subject  the  most  orthodox 
priests  and  monks  to  barbarous  usage.  Thus  we  see,  in  one 
of  their  invasions  of  Burgundy,  a  solitary  of  the  famous  mon- 
astery of  the  island  Barbe,  on  the  Saone  near  Lyons,  given 
up  to  the  most  cruel  tortures  by  a  detachment  of  The  monk 
Franks  who  had  invaded  that  sanctuary,  called  by  Ju'red'by"'"' 
some  the  most  ancient  in  Gaul.  His  name  was  the  Franks. 
Leobin,  and  he  had  been  a  shepherd  before  he  became  a 
monk.  All  the  other  Religious  had  fled  except  himself  and 
another  old  monk  who,  urged  by  the  invaders  to  show  them 
where  the  wealth  of  the  monastery  was  hidden,  answered  that 
he  did  not  know,  but  that  Leobin  was  acquainted  with  every- 
thing. The  Franks,  finding  that  Leobin  would  not  answer 
their  questions,  put  him  to  the  torture  with  an  ingenious 
cruelty  which  seems  to  have  been  borrowed  rather  from  Ori- 

**  This  monastery  has  become  the  town  of  St.  Maixent  (Deux  Sevres). 

*^  "Qui  locus  in  quo  idem  princeps  ad  pedes  sancti  viri  jacuerat  in  eodera 
Dionasterio  visque  in  liodicrnum  diem  apparet."  -  -  Act.  SS.  Bolland.,  d.  25 
Junii,  p.  172.     Compare  Greg.  Tdr.,  Hist.,  lib.  d.  c.  37. 

VOL.  I.  39 


458  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

ental  thau  Germanic  habits.  They  tied  cords  tightly  round 
his  head,  beat  him  upon  the  soles  of  his  feet,  plunged  him 
over  and  over  again  into  the  water,  drawing  him  out  only 
when  he  was  almost  suffocated.  The  courageous  monk  re- 
sisted all  these  agonies  without  speaking.  Then  they  left 
rT«K^„  ™o    him  more  dead  than  alive.     Ho  recovered,  however, 

lie  brcame  i  •  i 

ijishop  of     and  was  called  some  years  alter  to  the  episcopal  see 
—  ■      of  Chartres,  by  Childebert,  one  of  the  sons  of  Clovis, 
547-5o8.      ^,j-jQ  |-|g^^  himself  led  the  attack  to  which  the  pious 
bishop  had  all  but  fallen  victim.'*' 

Clovis  had  a  sister  named  Albofled,  who,  baptized  at  the 
same  time  as  himself,  had  embraced  conventual  life, 
and  daugh-  She  died  soon  after,  and  Clovis  lamented  her  so 
viseinbl-ace  deeply  that  St.  Remy  had  to  remind  him  of  the 
reii!?iou8  dutios  of  his  royal  charge.  "  There  is  no  room," 
wrote  the  apostle  of  the  Franks,  "  for  lamenting  that 
sister  whose  virginal  flower  spreads  forth  its  perfume  in  the 
presence  of  God,  and  who  has  received  a  celestial  crown  as 
the  reward  of  her  virginity.  My  lord,  chase  this  grief  from 
your  heart,  your  kingdom  remains  to  you  to  be  governed. 
You  are  the  head  of  nations,  and  the  weight  of  their  govern 
ment  lies  upon  you."  '^^ 

He  had  also  a  daughter  called  Theodechild,  who  also,  as  it 
is  supposed,  consecrated  her  virginity  to  God.  Her  exist- 
ence can  be  traced  only  by  some  scanty  lines  in  the  works 
of  Gregory  of  Tours  and  the  other  chronicles  of  the  time. 
They  permit  us  to  salute  her  in  passing  as  a  sweet  and  con- 
Boling  apparition  amid  the  horrors  and  violence  of  the  age  in 
St.  Pierre-  which  she  lived.  She  founded  near  the  Gallo-Ro- 
le-vif  at       jjQan  cathedral  city  of  Sens  a  monastery  in  honor  of 

Sens  .      .      .        .  "^ 

- —  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  in  imitation  of  that  which 
About 507.  j^gj.  f.j^^i^Q^,  and  mother  had  built  near  Paris,  to  the 
south  of  the  Seine,  and  where  St.  Genevieve  was  buried. 
Theodechild  established  monks  in  this  foundation,  which  since 
took  the  name  of  St.  Pierre-le-Vif :  she  chose  her  burial-place 

*''  "  Duni  Francorum  dura  ferocitatis  contra  Burgundiones  bella  concitaret 
.  •  ." —  Vit.  S.  Leobini,  c.  5-14;  ap.  Act.  SS.  0.  S.  B.,  t.  i.  Clovis  him- 
self invaded  Burgundy  in  500;  his  sons  in  523  and  in  532.  St.  Leobin  having 
become  bishop  in  547,  it  is  probable  that  liis  adventure  at  the  Ile-Barbe  re- 
lates to  the  last  of  these  invasions,  directed  by  Clotaire  and  Childebert. 

*^  "  Sacrata  non  est  lugenda,  quse  fiagrat  in  conspectu  Domini  flora  vir- 
gineo,  et  corona  tecta  quani  pro  virginitate  suscepit.  .  .  .  Dominus  mens, 
repelle  de  corde  tuo  tristiti;ira  .  .  .  regiium  sagacius -ubernate.  .  .  .  Moeroris 
torpore  discusso  .  .  .  mant^t  vobis  regnum  administranduni.  .  .  .  Populoruna 
caput  estis  et  regimen  snstiiietis."  —  Ap.  Labbe,  Concil..  t.  iv.  p.  1268.  Com- 
pare S.  Greg.  Tdk.,  Hist.,  ii.  31. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  459 

there,  after  having  made  a  grant  to  tliem  of  all  that  she  had 
possessed  or  acquired  in  France  and  Aquitaine  — that  is,  on 
both  sides  of  the  Loire.*^  An  act  of  generous  pity  on  the  part 
of  the  royal  foundress  worthily  inaugurated  the  annals  of  this 
famous  monastery.  Basolus,  who  had  been  named  Duke  of 
Aquitaine  by  Gessalic,  king  of  Aqaitaine  and  the  Visigoths, 
was  made  prisoner  by  Clovis  in  a  last  combat,  and  was  con- 
ducted chained  to  Sens.  While  his  guards  led  him  to  the 
dungeon  where  he  expected  to  be  put  to  death,  he  met  The- 
odechild,  the  daughter  of  his  conqueror,  upon  his  way.  She 
immediately  resolved  to  beg  the  life  and  liberty  of  the  cap- 
live.  Clovis  long  resisted  her  entreaties,  but  yielded  at 
length  on  condition  that  the  vanquished  chief  should  be  sent 
to  tlie  monastery  which  his  daughter  had  just  established,  and 
should  have  his  head  shaven  and  become  a  monk.  Basolus 
appears  to  have  adopted  his  new  profession  willingly,  for  he 
gave  to  St.  Peter  all  the  estates  he  possessed  in  Monas- 
Auvergne,  and  thus  founded  the  monastery  and  Auvorgne; 
town  of  Mauriac  in  the  mountains  of  Cantal.^'^  Basoius. 

These  monasteries  of  Auvergne  and  elsewhere,  where  the 
victors  and  vanquished  often  met,  were  already  an  asylum 
for  all  kinds  of  unfortunate  persons.  Gregory  of  Tours  has 
preserved  to  us  the  memory  of  a  young  Arverne  slave,  Por- 
tianus,  who,  flying  from  the  severity  of  his  master, 
took  refuge  in  a  monastery  :  the  Barbarian  pursued 
and  seized  him,  but,  being  suddenly  struck  with  blindness, 
restored  the  fugitive  to  the  sanctuary  in  order  to  obtain  the 
cure  he  desired.  The  slave  became  a  monk  and  then  abbot, 
and  governed  the  monastery,  from  which  he  came 

.  About  532 

forth  one  day  to  confront  and  reprimand  the  French 

*'  "  Monachos  ut,  sub  abbatis  imperio,  Deo  cunctis  diebus  deservirent. 
.  .  .  Quidquid  de  possesso  seu  de  acquisito."  This  testament  is  to  be  found 
among  the  collections  of  Odorannus,  a  learned  monk  of  St.  Pierre-le-Vif  in 
the  eleventh  centuiy,  published  by  Cardinal  Mai,  in  vol.  ix.  of  his  Spicilegi- 
um  Romanum,  p.  62.  Fortunatus,  the  poet  of  the  Merovingian  princesses, 
wrote  the  epitaph  of  Theodechild.  Odorannus  quotes  another  epitaph  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

"  Hunc  regina  locum  nionachis  construxit  ab  imo 
Theuchildis  rebus  nobilitando  suis. 
Cujus  nunc,  licet  hoc  corpus  claudatur  in  antro, 

Spiritus  astrigero  vivit  in  axe  Deo. 
Implorans  rectis  pastoribus  euge  beatum 
Det  sapientibus  hinc  neumata  digna  DeusI  " 
*"  "  Mauriac  is  now  an  undi.  r-prefecture  of  Cautal.     This  monastery  was 
restored  in  1100  by  Raoul  of  Escorailles,  who  placed  nuns  there,  stipulating 
that  all  the  abbesses  should  be  chosen  from  his  descendants."  —  Bkanchb, 
Monasteres  d'Auvergne,   p.  G3.     Compare  Mabillon,  Annal.,  lib.  vi.  c.  30i 


460  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

king  Thierrj^,  son  of  Clovi?,  in  his  destroying  march  through 
Auvergne.-^^  After  his  deatli,  the  abbey,  which  his  sanc- 
tity had  made  illustrious,  took  his  name,  and  transmitted  it 
to  the  existing  town  of  St.  Ponrgain.^^ 

The  monk  It  is  to  Gregory  of  Tours  again  that  we  owe  the 
Bons^of  knowledge  how  Thierry,  king  of  Metz,  the  first-born 
ciovis.  Qf  Clovis,  and  chief  of  thes(i  Ripuarian  Franks  who 
formed  the  kingdom  of  Austrasia,  father  of  that  Theodebert 
who  was  the  protector  of  St.  Maurus,  received  Imiubly  the 
Thierry  I.  frcc  remonstranccs  wdiich  tlie  abbot  Nizier  addressed 
A^bbotNi  to  hira  publicly  against  the  immorality  of  his  hfe. 
'='^''; Far  from  having  any  grudge  against  him,  this  king 

037.  elevated  him  to  the  episcopal  see  of  Treves.  He 
sent  several  of  his  principal  officers  to  the  monastery  to  bring 
the  abbot  to  Treves.  At  the  last  stage  from  the  town,  these 
lords  turned  their  horses  loose  in  the  midst  of  the  harvest. 
At  this  sight  the  Abbot  Nizier  said  to  them  indignantly, 
"  Withdraw  your  horses  immediately  from  the  harvest  of  the 
poor,  or  1  will  excommunicate  you."  "What!"  said  the 
Franks,  amazed  at  the  boldness  of  the  monk,  "  thou  art  not 
yet  a  bishop,  and  already  thou  threatenest  us  with  excommu- 
nication ?  "  "The  king,"  said  the  monk,  "  has  brought  me 
from  my  monastery  to  niake  me  a  bishop:  let  the  will  of  God 
be  done ;  but  as  for  the  will  of  the  king,  it  shall  not  be  done 
when  it  is  set  upon  evil,  at  least  while  I  can  hinder  it."  And 
thereupon  he  himself  drove  the  horses  out  of  the  field  which 
they  were  destroying.  During  all  his  episcopate,  King 
Thierry  and  his  son  Theodebert,  who  were  of  dissolute 
habits,  like  all  the  Merovingians,  had  to  bear  the  apostolical 
zeal  of  Nizier.  He  always  said,  '•  1  am  ready  to  die  for  jus. 
tice."  He  also  braved  the  terrible  Clotaire,  to  whom  he 
refused  the  sacraments,  and  whose  death  alone  delivered  him 
from  the  exile  to  which  he  had  been  sentenced.^^ 

Clodimir,  king  of  Orleans,  the  second  of  the  sons  of  Clovis, 
was  siirilarly  confronted  by  the  noble  form  of  a  monk,  Avitus, 
Clodimir  abbot  of  that  monastery  of  Micy,  in  the  Orleannais, 
Abbot"  which  his  father  had  founded,  who  appeared  before 
Avitus.        him  when,  on  the  eve  of  undertaking  his  second 

"  Greg.  Tdeon.,   Vit.  Fair.,  c.  5. 

*^  A  district  country  town  in  AUier. 

^'  "  Expellite  quantocius  equos  vestros  a  segete  pauperis,  alioquin  removeho 
vos  a  communione  niea.  .  .  .  Qutenam  est  hseu  causa  quani  loqucris?  Adliuc 
ciun  episcopalem  apicom  non  es  adcptus,  et  jatu.  .  .  .  Fiat  voluntas  Dei: 
nam  et  regis  voluntas  in  on)nibus  malis,  me  obsistente,  non  adimplebkur 
.  .  .  Libenter  raoriar  pro  justitia."  —  Gkeg    Turon.,  Z>e  Vitis  Patrum,  c.  VI 


THE  riKST  MEROVINGIANS.  461 

campaign  against  tlie  Burgundians,  he  desired  to  disem- 
barrass himself  of  his  prisoner,  King  Sigismund,  who  had 
vainly  sought  a  refuge  in  his  beloved  cloister  of  Agaune, 
The  monk  came  to  remind  him  of  the  rights  of  pity,  and  to 
predict  the  sentence  of  divine  justice.  "  Oh  king  !  "  said  the 
abbot,  "  think  of  God :  if  thou  givest  up  thy  project,  if,  thou 
art  merciful  to  these  captives,  God  will  be  with  thee,  and 
thou  shalt  conquer  again;  but  if  thou  slayest  them,  thou  and 
thine  shall  meet  the  same  fate."^*  Clodimir  answered,  '•  It  is  a 
fool's  advice  to  bid  a  man  leave  his  enemy  behind  him."  He 
killed  Sigismund,  his  wife,  and  two  children,  and  threw  them 
into  a  w^ell.  But  the  prediction  of  Avituswas  accomplished. 
Clodimir  was  vanquished  and  slain;  his  head,  fixed  at  the 
end  of  a  spear,  was  carried  in  triumph  along  the  Burgundian 
ranks.  The  fate  of  his  children  is  known  ;  how  his  brothers 
Childebert  and  Clotaire,  fortifying  themselves  by  an  expres- 
sion which  escaped  from  their  mother  Clotilde,  who  had  said 
that  she  w^ould  rather  see  her  grandchildren  dead  than 
shaven,^''  massacred  the  two  eldest ;  and  how  the  third  escaped 
their  knife  only  by  receiving  the  monastic  tonsure  and  the 
name  of  St.  Cloud,  one  of  the  best-known  monastic   ^^  ^„    , 

'  St.  Cloud. 

names  in  our  history. 

**  "  Si  respiciens  Deuni  emendaveris  consilium  tuum,  ut  hos  homines  in- 
terfici  non  patiaris,  erit  Deus  tecum."  —  Greg.  Tur.,  Hist.,  lib.  iii.  c.  6. 

**  It  is  probable  that  this  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  monastic  tonsure,  but 
simply  concerned  the  shortening  of  that  long  hair  which  was,  with  the  Franks, 
as  it  is  with  tlie  peasant  of  Lower  Brittany  at  the  present  lime,  the  sign  of 
freedom,  and  was  a  special  attribute  of  the  Merovingians,  and  token  of  their 
dynasty  and  hereditary  riglit.  "  Solemne  est  Erancorum  regibus  nunquam 
tonderi.  .  .  .  Caesaries  toto  decenter  eis  in  humeros  propendet."  —  Agathijk 
Histor.,  ap.  Thierry,  Sccits  Mcroiing.,  t.  ii.  p.  17.  "  A  Merovingian  prince 
could  suffer  this  temporary  loss  in  two  different  ways  :  either  the  hair  was 
cut  in  the  manner  of  the  Franks,  —  that  is  to  say,  to  the  top  of  the  neck,  — 
or  cut  very  short  in  the  Roman  fashion;  and  this  kind  of  degradation,  morj 
humiliating  than  tlie  other,  was  generally  accompanied  by  the  ecclesiastical 
tonsure."  -^  Ihid.  Moreover,  the  kings  and  grandees  of  tlie  Merovingian  era 
learned  early  and  practised  often  the  odious  custom  of  imposing  forced  voca- 
tions on  the  dispossessed  jjrinces,  and  inflicting  the  tonsure  upon  them  against 
their  will.  The  history  of  Merovee,  son  of  Chilperic,  and  husband  of  Brune- 
haut,  degraded  by  the  tonsure  at  the  order  of  Fredcgonde,  is  universally 
known.  Another  example,  still  more  striking,  is  that  of  Thierry  III.,  king 
of  Neustria,  deposed  in  G70  by  the  great  rebels  against  the  tyranny  of  Ebroin, 
and  ."succeeded  by  his  brother  Childeric  II.  His  brother  asked  him  what  should 
be  done  to  him;  he  answered,  "  What  they  will :  unjustly  deposed,  I  wait 
the  judgment  of  the  King  of  heaven."  "Tunc  ad  monasterium  S.  martyris 
Dionysii  residere  est  jussus  ibique  est  salvatns,  donee  crincm  quern  amputa- 
verant  enutriret :  et  Deus  coeli,  quem  se  judiceni  est  habere  professus,  felici- 
ter  postmodum  ipsum  permisit  regnare."  —  Anon.  ^duen.  Vit.  S.  Leodegarii, 
c.  3. 

39* 


462  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

chiidebert  These  ferocious  assassins  nevertheless  yielded  in 
oAhe™**  their  turn  to  the  influence  of  the  lessons  and  ex- 
monks,  amples  given  by  the  monks.  Chiidebert  especially 
would  have  been  the  monastic  king  par  excellei^ce,  could  we 
believe  all  the  legends,  which  probably  concentrate  in  him 
various  anecdotes  relative  to  other  princes  of  the  same  name 
or  race.  Some  of  these  are  worthy  of  recollection  Irom  their 
authentic  individual  characteristics,  or  from  the  light  they 
throw  CD  contemporary  history.  Such  a  tale  is  that  which 
Hisconnec  'Informs  US  liow  the  firbt  king  of  Paris,  when  cross- 
tion  with      inff  Berrv  to  meet  the  Visigoths,  paused  at  the  door 

the  Abbot  ,'-'  "  .  o  '  r        _ 

Eusice,  in  of  the  ccU  occupicd  by  the  monk  Eusice,  and  offered 
^^^^^-  to  him  fifty  pieces  of  gold.  "  Why  do  j^ou  give  this 
to  me?"  said  the  old  recluse ;  "give  it  to  the  poor;  it  is 
enough  for  me  to  be  able  to  pray  to  God  for  my  sins.  How- 
ever, march  on,  you  will  be  victorious,  and  then  you  can  do 
all  you  would."  Chiidebert  bent  his  heavy  locks  under  the 
hand  of  the  solitary  to  receive  his  blessing,  and  promised,  if 
bis  prophecy  was  fulfilled,  to  return  and  build  him  a  church. 
The  prediction  was  fulfilled,  and  the  king  kept  his  promise. 
After  he  had  defeated  the  Visigoths  and  taken  Narbonne 
their  capital,  he  built,^^  upon  the  banks  of  the  Cher,  a  monas 
tery  and  church,  in  which  the  solitary  was  buried.  This 
donation  was  increased  by  the  offering  made  by  the  noble 
Vulfin,  one  of  the  principal  Franks  of  the  army,  who,  in  the 
distribution  of  rewards  made  by  Chiidebert  at  the  end  of  his 
campaign,  having  asked  and  obtained  a  grant  of  crown  lands, 
or  what  was  already  called  an  honor,  upon  the  same  banks  of 
the  Cher,  hastened  to  pay  this  tribute  to  the  holy  monk  by 
whose  fame  he  had  been  fascinated.^'' 

This  Eusice  or  Eusitius  must  have  been,  according  to  the 
And  with  evidence  of  his  name,  of  Roman  or  Gallo-Roman  ori- 
the  Friink-  p-Jn  like  all  the  other  monks  whom  we  have  noted  up 
Marcuipii,  to  this  poiut ;  but  Chiidebert  entertained  friendly 
inNeustna.  ryjatious  of  the  same  kind  with  another  monk  whose 
name,  Marculph,  points  him  out  as  a  Frank,  and  who  was 

*"  At  Selles  in  Berry,  near  Romorantin.  "Quod  mihi  ista  prefers ?  .  .  . 
Vade  ct  victoiiani  obtinebis,  et  quod  volueris  ages."  —  Greg.  Turon.,  Z)« 
Glor.  Confess.,  c.  82.  "  Crinigerara  cerviceni  sancti  manibus  .  .  .  inclinat." 
—  DoM  Bouquet,  iii.  129.  Eusice  began  his  career  as  a  monk  at  Perrecy, 
in  Burgundy  {Fatriciacuin) ,  wliich  at  a  later  period  became  one  of  tlie  most 
celebrated  priories  of  the  Benedictine  order. 

*'  "  Vultinus  ejusdem  generis  vir  nobilissimus  .  .  .  remunerationis  suae 
prajniium  .  .  .  pvaestolabatur  .  .  .  nihil  petiit  sibi  dari  nisi  super  Cliari  flu- 
vmni  queni  rex  habebat  honorem."  —  Vit  S.  Eusicii,  ap.  Labbe,  Nov.  Bibl. 
MSS.,  ii.  375. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  463 

tlio  first  iif  all  the  luily  monks  whose  name  betrayed  that 
origin.^^  He  was  ot"  a  rich  and  powerful  race  established  in 
the  country  of  Bayeux,  and  the  union  of  the  proud  indepen- 
dence of  the  Frank  with  the  rigorous  austerity  of  the  monk 
is  everywhere  apparent  in  the  na'  rative  of  his  life.  lie  had 
devoted  the  fii'st  half  of  his  existence  to  preaching  the  faith 
to  the  inhabitants  of  Cotentin;  from  thence  we  see  him  set 
out^  mounted  on  his  ass,  to  meet  King  Childebert  on  the  day 
of  a  great  festival,  in  the  midst  of  his  feudal  lords,  and  asking 
of  him  a  grant  of  land  on  which  to  build  a  monastery  where 
the  kina:  and  the  comiuonwealth  of  the  Franks  might  be 
prayed  for.  It  was  not  the  habitual  adulation  of  th^,  Romans 
of  the  Lower  Empire  which  he  used  to  gain  the  monarch's 
ear.  ''  Mercy  and  peace  to  thee,  from  Jesus  Christ,"  he  said, 
"  illustrious  prince  :  thou  art  seated  on  the  throne  of  royal 
majesty,  but  thou  shouldst  not  forget  that  thou  art  mortal, 
and  that  pride  must  not  make  thee  despise  thy  fellow-crea- 
tures. Recall  to  thy  mind  that  text  of  the  wise  man:  '  Men 
have  made  thee  a  prince;  be  nut  exalted,  Imt  be  as  one  of 
them  in  the  midst  ot  them.'  Be  just  even  in  thy  clemency, 
and  mix  pity  even  with  thy  justice."  Cliildebert  granted  his 
request.  But  scarcely  had  he  accomplished  this  first  founda- 
tion, when,  for  the  better  enjoyment  of  the  charms  of  solitude, 
Marculph  took  refuge  in  an  island  on  the  coast  of  Brittany, 
inhabited  only  by  a  handful  of  fishers.  A  numerous  Marculph 
band  of  Saxon  pirates  having  made  a  descent  upon  puts  the 
this  island,  the  poor  Bretons  came  trembling  and  pirates  to 
kneeling  to  the  Frank  monk.  •'  Be  of  good  courage,"  '°  ' ' 
he  said  to  them  ;  "  if  you  trust  my  counsel,  take  your  weapons 
march  against  your  enemy,  and  the  God  who  overthrew 
Pharaoh  will  fight  for  you."  They  listened  to  him,  put  the 
Saxons  to  flight,  and  a  second  foundation  marks  the  spot  of 
that  victory  achieved  over  the  piratical  pagans  by  innocence 
and  faith,  inspired  by  the  courage  of  a  mouk.^^ 

**  Among  the  holy  monks  whose  name  indicates  a  German  origin,  I  see 
before  Marculph  or  Marcoul,  who  died  in  558,  only  Theodoric  or  Thierry, 
who  died  in  h'63,  a  disciple  of  St.  Remy,  the  first  great  abbot  of  the  great 
monastery  near  Reims,  wliich  retains  his  name,  and  from  which  William  of 
St.  Thierry,  the  annalist  of  the  twelfth  century,  derives  his. 

'^  "Ex  nobilissimis  diiissimisque  cliristianissimis  Bajocassinis  civibus  ex- 
ortus.  .  .  .  Asello  cui  cedere  con'sueverat  ascenso.  .  .  .  Cum  Rex  multa 
suorum  procerum  turba.  .  .  .  Licet  in  solio  majestatis  sedeas,  tame-n  te 
unum  murtiilium  esse  considerans.  .  .  .  Tibi  subditis  et  cum  justitia  parcis, 
et  cum  pietate  corrigis.  .  .  .  Pro  tua  totiusque  reipublicae  salute  sedulo 
oraturi.  .  .  .  Piratae  ...  ex  inexhaustis  scaturiginibus  gentis  Saxonicas 
prorunipeutes.    ...    Si  meis  vultis  acquiescere  monitis,  arma  constanter 


464  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

These  Saxons  who  troubled  the  solitude  of  the  holy  Mar. 

culph  in  his  island  had  long  invaded  and  sacked 
onlnttsir"  Great  Britain.  To  escape  I'rom  their  bloody  yoke 
Armorica*'    au  army  of  British  monks,  guiding  an  entire  tribe  of 

men  and  women,  freemen  and  slaves,  embarked  in 
vessels  not  made  of  wood,  but  of  skins  sewn  together,*^*^  sing- 
ing or  rather  howling,  under  their  full  sails,  the  lamentations 

of  the  Psalmisi,^^  and  came  to  seek  an  asylum  in  Ar- 

niorica,  and  make  for  themselves  another  country. 
This  emigration  lasted  more  than  a  century  ;  and  threw  a 
new,  but  equally  Celtic  population  into  that  portion  of  Gaul 
which  Roman  taxation  and  Barbarian  invasion  had  injured 
least,  and  where  the  ancient  Celtic  worohip  had  retained 
most  vitality. 

Persistence  With  the  exception  of  three  or  four  episcopal 
f/mm""  cities,  almost  all  the  Armoncan  peninsula  was  still 
Armorica.  pagan  in  the  sixth  century.  All  the  symbols  and 
rites,  the  myths  and  arcanas  of  paganism  seemed  to  be  con- 
centrated in  that  wild  and  misty  country,  where  the  avenues 
and  circles  of  erect  stones,  the  dolmens  and  menhirs,  rose, 
sometimes  amid  immense  forests  of  oak  and  holly,  or  moors 
covered  by  impenetrable  thickets  of  furze,  sometimes  upon 
the  high  granite  rocks  of  that  coast,  rent  and  hollowed  out  by 

capessite.  .  .  .  Pro  vobis  ipse  pugnabit,  qui  quondum  Pharaonem,"  &c.  — 
Acta  SS.  0.  S.  B.,  torn.  i.  pp.  120,  124.  This  island,  called  Agnus  or  Agna 
in  the  two  lives  of  St.  Marculpli,  is  probably  that  of  Harine  or  Herrns,  near 
Guernsey.  The  translation  of  the  relics  of  St.  Marcoul,  in  the'  ninth  cen- 
tury, proved  the  foundation  of  the  great  monastery  of  Corbeni  {Corpus  Ben- 
edictum),  between  Laon  and  Reims,  where  the  kings  of  France  went  to  pray 
after  their  coronation  and  obtained  power  to  cure  scrofula,  saying,  "  The 
king  touches  thee,  God  cures  thee." 

*''  "Quin  et  Armoricus  piratam  Saxona  tractus 
Sperabat;  cui  pelle  salum  sulcare  Britannum, 
Ludus,  et  assuto  glaucum  mare  findere  lembo." 

Sid.  Apollin.,  Paneg.  ad  Avitum,  v.  369. 
Festus  Avienus,  who  lived  at  tiie  end  of  the  fourth  century,  in  his  curious 
poem,  entitled  Ora  Maritima,  speaks  also  of  these  leather  boats  used  by  the 
British :  — 

"  Navigia  junctis  semper  aptant  pellibus, 
Corioqup  vastum  sajpe  percurrunt  salum." 

Edit.  Panckoucke,  p.  110. 
Legendery  lore  has  sometimes  transformed  them  into  troughs  of  stone, 
which,  after  having  been  used  as  beds  by  the  holy  missionaries  during  their 
solitary  life  in  Great  Britain,  served  them  as  skiffs  to  cross  tlie  British  Chan- 
nel, aiMl  land  in  Armorica.  See  the  legends  of  St.  Ninnoc  and  St.  Budoc, 
in  the  Propre  or  special  prayers  of  the  ancient  dioceses  of  Dol  and  Leon. 
Albert  le  Grand,  Vie  des  SS.  de  Bretagne,  ed.  Miorcec  de  Kerdanet,  1839. 
*'  "  Cum  ululatu  niagno  ceu  celeusniatis  vice,  hoc  niodo  sub  velorum  sini- 
bus  cantantes  :  Dedisti  nos  tanquam  oves  escarum."  —  Gildas,  De  Excidit 
Britaiinice. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  465 

the  iinwoaried  ocean  tides  which  beat  upon  it  from  the  north, 
south,  and  west.  In  one  of  the  isles  of  this  extremity  of 
Gaul,  Homer  and  Plutarcli  have  placed  the  prison  where 
Saturn  wa^  held  captive  by  his  son  Jupiter,  under  the  guard 
of  the  g'iant  Briareus.  Here,  too,  according  to  most  poetictra- 
of  the  poets,  was  the  dwelling-place  of  the  genii  d't'ons. 
and  the  heroes,  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  and  the  Elysian 
fields.  Elsewhere,  but  still  in  the  same  archipelago  of  al- 
most inaccessible  islands,  the  Druidesses  celebrated  at  night, 
and  by  torchlight,  those  m^'steries,  Avhich,  like  those  of  Eleu- 
sis  and  Samothrace,  were  shut  out  from  the  approach  of  man, 
and  filled  with  terror  the  soul  of  the  boatman  who  beheld 
them  from  afar.  Human  sacrifices,  and  especially  those  of 
children,  were  practised  here,  as  among  the  Carthaginians,  in 
honor  of  Saturn.*^^  Other  priestesses,  vowed  like  the  Roman 
Vestals  to  perpetual  virginity,  and,  like  the  German  Velleda, 
invested  with  the  gift  of  prophecy,  raised  and  calmed  the  sea 
at  their  pleasure,  cured  diseases,  and  foretold  future  events 
to  those  who  were  bold  enough  to  consult  them  in  their 
island  of  Sein,  situated  at  the  furthest  point  of  Armorica, 
upon  that  frightful  coast  of  Cornouaille,  bristling  with  rocks, 
in  that  bay  which  is  still  called  the  Bay  of  the  Dead,  and 
where  popular  tradition  sees  the  skeletons  of  the  shipwrecked 
wandering  by  night  asking  a  shroud  and  a  grave.*^^ 

Tradition  has  never  failed  to  people  the  coasts  of  Armorica 
with  phantoms.  It  was  there,  according  to  Claudian,  that 
Ulysses  offered  libations  of  blood  to  the  manes  of  his  fathers, 
troubling  the  repose  of  the  dead  ;  there  that  the  husbandman 
hears  incessantly  the  plaintive  accents  and  faint  sound  made 
by  the  manes  whose  flight  agitates  the  air.  and  where  pale 
phantoms  wander  before  his  terrifi^^  eyes. 

"Est  locus  extremum  qua  pandit  Gallia  littus, 
Oceani  praetentus  aquis,  ubi  fertur  Ulysses, 
Sanguine  libato,  populum  movisse  silentera. 
lUic  umbrarum  tenui  stridore  volantum 
Flebilis  auditur  questus,  simulacra  coloni 
Pallida  defunctasque  vident  migrare  figuras."^* 

This  tradition  lasted  till  the  end  of  the  sixth  century,  and 
extended  to  the  extremities  of  the  Roman  world.     Procopius, 

^=  See  the  legend  of  St.  Riok. 

®^  Artemidorus,  apud  Strabon.,  lib.  iv.  p.  198;  PoMPONins  Mela,  lib. 
iii.  c.  6;  Hersart  de  la  Villemarqu^,  Chants  Populaires  de  la  Bretagne, 
t.  ii, ,  La  Fiancee  en  Enfer. 

**  In  Rufinum,  lib.  i.  v.  123. 


466  THE  MOXKS  UNDER 

the  ojntemporary  of  the  sons  of  Clovis,  narrates?  that  the  fish- 
ermen \Mho  inhabited  these  coasts  had  been  exempted  by  the 
conquering  Franks  from  the  payment  of  tribute,  because  they 
were  obh'ged  to  convey  the  souls  of  the  defunct  to  Great 
Britian.  "  Towards  midnight,"  says  the  Byzantine  historian, 
"  some  one  knocks  at  their  door ;  the}^  are  called  in  a  low 
voice  ;  they  rise  and  hasten  to  the  shore ;  they  find  there 
strange  boats,  in  which  they  see  no  one,  but  which  they  must 
row  across  the  sea  ;  and  tliese  boats  are  so  full  of  invisible 
passengers  that  they  seem  ready  to  sink,  and  are  scarcely  a 
finger-breadth  above  the  level  of  the  water.  In  less  than  an 
hour  the  journey  is  accomplished,  though  in  their  own  boats 
they  could  scarcely  do  it  in  a  night.  Arrived  at  the  end,  the 
vessels  are  so  entirely  emptied  that  you  can  see  their  keel. 
All  remain  invisible  ;  but  the  sailors  hear  a  voice  which  calls 
the  travelling  souls  one  by  one,  addressing  each  by  the  title 
which  it  has  borne,  and  adding  to  this  the  name  of  its  father, 
or,  if  a  woman,  of  her  husband."  ^^ 

UpoQ  this  soil,  long  adopted  by  legendary  poetry  as  its 
special  possession,  a  swarm  of  monastic  missionaries  de- 
scended at  the  head  of  a  population  already  Christian.  They 
came  to  ask  shelter  from  their  brethren,  issued  from  the  same 
race  and  speaking  the  same  language.  The  leaders  of  the 
r,         ■       British  monks  who  disembarked  with  their  armv  of 

Conversion      ,        .    ,  .1  i  1 

of  Armori  disciplcs  upou  the  Armorican  shore,  undertook  to 
Britfsh"'  pay  for  the  hospitality  they  received  by  the  gift  of 
emigrants,  ^j^^  ^j,,^^  faith,  and  they  succeeded.  They  gave 
their  name  and  worship  to  their  new  countiy.  They  preached 
Christianity  in  the  language  common  to  all  the  Celtic  races, 
and  resembling  that  which  is  still  spoken  by  the  peasants  of 
Lower  Brittany.  They  implanted  in  the  Armorican  Britain, 
in  this  Brittany  of  ours,  that  faith  which  remains  so  firmly 
rooted  there.  "  The  sun,"  says  a  Breton  monk  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  apostrophizing  one  of  these  prophets  from 
beyond  the  sea,  "has  never  lighted  a  country  where,  since 
you  banished  idolatry,  the  true  faith  has  been  held  with  more 
constant  and  unchanging  faithfulness.  For  thirteen  centuries 
no  kind  of  infidelty  has  stained  the  language  by  means  of 

^'  "  Intenipesta  nocte  .  .  .  se  ad  opus  obscura  voce  acciri  audiunt  .  .  . 
fipprcliendum  renios  et  naves  sentiunt  tot  vectoribus  onustas  lit  ad  summam 
usque  tahulam  immersae.  .  .  .  Nullum  vident  nee  navigantem  nee  navi  egre- 
dienteni :  solum  asscrunt  audire  se  vocem,  quae  veetorum  singulorum  noniina 
tr-idere  excipienlibus.  ...  Si  quae  feniinaj  .  .  .  viros  .  .  .  nominatim  in 
tlaniant."  —  Pkocop.,  De  Bello  Gothico,  lib.  iv.  c.  20. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  467 

which  you  preached  Jesns  Christ,  and  the  man  has  yet  to  be 
born  who  has  heard  a  Breton  preach  in  tlie  Breton  tongue 
any  other  than  the  CathoHc  faith.'"  ^6 

This  peaceful  conquest  was  not  made  without  resistance. 
The   British   monks  encountered  enemies   upon  the   soil   of 
Gaul  ahnost  as  terrible  as  those  from  whose  persecution  they 
fled.     Celtic  paganism   defended  itself  desperately. 
The   bards   attempted  to  rouse  the   people  against   ortuepa- 
the  strangers  who  audaciously  brought  a  new  religion  ^'''"  ^''"'^^*' 
into  the  inviolable  sanctuary  of  Druidism.     The   prophetic 
menaces  launched  by  one  of  these  poets  of  the  old  reh'gion 
againiiit   the  new  apostles  has   often   been  quoted  :  "  A  day 
comes  w!ien  the  men  of  Christ  shall  be  pursued,  when  they 
shall  be  hunted  like  deer.     They  shall  die  by  bands  atid  bat- 
talions.    Then  the  mill-wheel    shall   grind    small  ;  the    blood 
of  the  monks  shall  serve  as  water  to  turn  it."  6" 

Thirteen  centuries  passed  before  new  pagans,  a  thousand 
times  more  atrocious  and  less  excusable  than  the  compatriots 
of  the  bard  Gwenchlan,  appeared  to  verify  that  piophecy. 
But  in  olden  time  it  seemed  to  die  out  under  the  success 
and  blessings  with  which  the  British  monks  had  covered 
Arraorica. 

They  also  carried  with  them  their  poetry,  which      Monastic 
sliortly  superseded  the  Druidical  poetry,  purifying      birds. 
without  effacing  it.     For  they  also,  faithful  to  the  immemorial 
traditions  of  the  Celtic  race,  had  bards  in  their  ranks.     The 
famous  Taliesin,  who  took   the  title  of  prince  of  the  bards, 
prophets,  and  Druids  of  the  West,  and  who  is  supposed  to 
have  been  converted  by  the  monk  Gildas,  accompanied  them 
into  Armorica.^^     But  bards  who  have  since  taken  their  place 
among  the   Saints   were    pointed    out    among    this    number. 
Such  vvas  Sulio,  or  Ysulio,  who,  while   still  a  child 
playing  in   the   gardens   of  his   father,  the  Lord  of 
Powj^s,  heard  monks  passing,  harp  in  hand,  singing  the  praises 
of  God,  and  was  so  fascinated  with  the  beauty  of  their  hymns 

®*  "  Le  soleil  n'a  jamais  eclaire  de  canton  oil  ayt  paru  une  plus  constante 
et  invariable  fidelite  dans  la  vraye  foy,  depuis  que  vous  en  avez  baiini  I'ido- 
lastrie.  II  y  a  treize  si^cles  qu'aucune  espece  d'infidelite  n'a  souille  la 
langue  qui  vous  a  servy  d'organe  pour  prescher  Jesus-Christ,  et  il  est  a 
naistre  qui  ayt  vu  un  Breton  b'.etonnant  prescher  une  autre  religion  que  la 
Catholique." — Father  Madnoik,  Epistre  art  glorieux  St.  Corentin,  IGSt). 

"  Heksart  de  la  Villemakqde,  Chants  Fopulaires  de  la  Bretagne,  vol. 
i.  pp.  20,  38. 

*^  Ingomar,  Vit.  Judicaelis,  apud  D.  Morice,  Hist,  de  Bretagne,  proofs, 
vol.  i.  Compare  La  Villemarqub,  p.  9,  and  Kerdanet,  editor  of  Albert 
LE  Grand,  p.  218. 


468  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

that  he  followed  them  to  learn  how  to  compose  and  «ing 
these  noble  song-s.  His  brothers  hastened  to  announce  his 
flight  to  their  father,  who  sent  thirty  armed  men,  with  orders 
to  slay  the  abbot  and  bring  back  his  son.  But  the  child  had 
already  gone  to  Armorica  and  found  refuge  in  the  monastery 
of  which,  at  a  later  period,  he  M'-as  prior.^^ 
The  i.iind  Such  was  also  Hervc,  whose  name  ought  to  take 

Hervc.  place  among  the  sweetest  recollections  of  Christian 
poetry.  He  was  the  son  of  the  bard  Hyvernion,  who  had 
appeared  among  the  numerous  minstrels  whom  the  Merovin- 
gian kings  loved  to  collect  round  their  table.'''  This  island 
bard  had  charmed  King  Childebert ;  *'  he  was,"  says  the  old 
Breton  legend,  "  so  perfect  a  musician  and  composer  of  bal- 
lads and  songs." '^  He  had  come  to  Armorica  to  marry  a 
young  orphan  of  Leon,  whom  an  nngel  had  showed  him  in  a 
dream,  saying  to  him,  **  You  shall  meet  her  to-morrow,  upon 
your  way,  near  the  fountain  ;  her  name  is  Rivanonn."  He 
met  her  accordingly  ;  she  was  of  the  same  profession  as  him- 
self, and  sang,  "  Although  1  am  but  a  poor  flower  on  the 
waterside,  it  is  I  who  am  called  the  Little  Queen  of  the  Foun- 
tain," He  married  her,  and  of  this  marriage  was  born  a  blind 
child,  whom  his  parents  named  Herve  (that  is,  hitter),  and 
who,  from  the  age  of  seven,  went  about  tlie  country  seeking 
alms  and  singing  the  hymns  composed  by  his  mother.  The 
blind  orphan  was  afterwards  initiated  by  his  uncle  into  ceno- 
bitical  life,  and  was  placed  at  the  head  of  the  school  adjoining 
his  monastery,  where  he  could  put  in  practice  the  aphorism 
which  Breton  tradition  ascribes  to  him, ''/if  is  better  to  in- 
struct a  little  child  than  to  gather  wealth  for  him ;  "  ^^  and 
where  he  taught  his  pupils  songs,  of  which  the  modern 
Breton  still  retains  some  trace  in  the  following  childish 
version :  — 

"  Approach,  my  little  children  ;  come  and  hear  a  new  song 
which  I  have  composed  expressly  for  you  ;  take  pains  to  re- 
member it  entirely. 

"  When  you  awake  in  your  bed,  offer  your  heart  to  the 

*'  DoM  LoBiNEAU,  Vie  des  Saints  de  Bretagne,  p.  2u3;  La  Villemarqu6, 
op.  cit.,  p.  11. 

'"  The  Italian  Fortunatus  has  preserved  to  us  the  remembrance  of  these 
concerts,  where,  with  lyre  in  hand,  he  took  his  part,  wliilst  "the  Barbarian," 
says  he,  "played  on  the  harp,  the  Greek  on  the  instrument  of  Homer,  and 
the  Breton  on  the  Celtic  rote."  —  La  Villemarque,  Lcgende  Celtique,  p.  232 

"  Albert  le  Grand,   Vie  des  Saints  de  Bretagne,  ed.  Kerdanet,  p.  313. 

"  The  following  is  another  of  his  aphorisms  :  —  "  He  who  does  not  answei 
to  the  rudder  must  answer  to  the  rocks." 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  469 

good  God,  make  the  sign  of  the  croris,  and   say  with  faith^ 
hope,  and  love  : 

"  Say  :  My  God,  I  give  thee  my  heart,  my  body,  and  my 
soul  ;  make  me  to  be  a  good  man,  or  else  to  die  before  my 
time. 

"  When  yon  see  a  raven  fl}^,  think  that  the  devil  is  as  black 
and  as  wicked  ;  when  you  see  a  little  white  dove  fly,  think 
that  your  angel  is  as  sweet  and  as  white." 

After  the  conversion  of  the  country,  the  missionary  bishops, 
compatriots  of  the  father  of  Herve,  would  have  drawn  him 
from  his  retreat  to  confer  the  priesthood  upon  him,  and  to 
give  him  a  seat  in  their  synods.  But  he  always  preferred 
his  little  monastery  hidden  in  the  woods.  Although  blind, 
he  had  himself  been  the  architect  of  his  little  church,  the 
care  of  which  he  intrusted  to  a  very  young  girl,  his  niece  or 
cousin,  educated  by  his  mother,  and  named  Christina,  ".a 
Christian  in  name  as  in  fact,"  '^  wliom  the  Breton  legend, 
placing  her  amid  the  disciples  of  the  saint,  compares  to  a 
little  white  dove  among  the  crows.'^'^  Three  days  before  his 
death,  when  secluded  in  the  church  which  he  had  built,  he 
was  thrown  into  an  ecstasy.  The  eyes  of  the  poor  blind  man 
opened  to  contemplate  the  heaven  over  his  head,  and  he 
began  to  sing  a  last  song,  which  is  still  repeated  in  his 
country  :  — 

"  I  see  heaven  opened  ;  heaven,  m\'  country,  I  would  fly 
to  it.  ...  1  see  there  my  father  and  mother  in  glory  and 
beauty;  I  see  my  brethren,  the  men  of  my  own  country. 
Choirs  of  angels,  supported  by  wings,  float  round  their  heads 
like  so  many  bees  in  a  flowery  field." 

The  third  clay  after  this  vision,  he  told  Christina  to  make 
his  bed,  not  as  usually,  but  with  a  stone  for  the  pillow  and 
ashes  for  the  couch.  "  When  the  black  angel  shall  come  to 
seek  me,  let  him  find  me  lying  upon  ashes."  Christina,  while 
she  obeyed,  said  to  iiim,  ''  My  uncle,  if  you  love  me,  ask  God 
that  1  may  follow  you  without  delay,  as  the  boat  follows  the 
current."  Her  prayer  was  granted.  At  the  moment  when 
Herve  expired,  the  little  Christina,  "  throwing  herself  at  his 
feet,  died  there  also."  '^  Herve,  the  blind  monk,  continues 
to  our  own  day  the  patron  of  mendicant  singers,  who  still 
chant  his  legend  in  Breton  verse ;  and  there  has  long  been 
shown,  in  a  little  church  in  Lower  Brittany,'*^  a  worm-eaten 

"  Albert  le  Grand,  p.  321,  ed.  Miorcec. 

'■*  La  ViLLEMAKQtTE,  p.  279.  '*  Albekt  le  Grand,  p.  321. 

'*  At  St.  Jean-Keran,  parish  of  Tretlaouenan. 

VOL.  L  40 


470  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

oaken  cradle,  in  which  the  bard  and  his  poet-wife,  whom  God 
made  the  parents  of  Herve,  put  hira  to  sleep  with  their 
songs."  This  poetry  is  surely  of  as  much  value  as  that  of 
Claudiau  and  tiie  Druids. 

But  we  must  leave  tlie  too  attractive  regions  of  poetry  to 
return  to  the  domain  of  history,  which  is  ol'ten,  and  here 
especially,  to  be  distinguished  with  difficulty  from  that  of  the 
legend.  Without  entering  into  details  of  the  immigration  of 
these  Bretons  into  Arrnorica,  it  is  enough  to  say  that  fifty 
years  after  their  appearance  the  Gospel  reigned  in  the  penin- 
sula. Monks,  either  cenobites  or  solitary,  held  the  place  of 
A-morican  ^^^  ^^^®  Other  clergy  for  several  centuries,  and  exer- 
nionaster-  ciscd  ovcr  the  soul  and  imagination  of  the  Armori- 
can  people  a  priestly  empire  which  still  continues. 
Innumerable  monasteries  rose  on  all  the  principal  points 
of  the  territor}',  especially  on  the  sea-coast.  Among  those 
which  date  back  to  this  age,  wo  must  note  Rhuys,  which  was 
afterwards  made  illustrious  by  becoming  the  retreat  of  Abe- 
lard,  It  was  Ibunded  at  that  time  upon  the  peninsula  of 
Morbihan,  by  one  of  the  most  distinguished  British  emi- 
grants, the  Abbot  Gildas,  called  the  Wise,  and  this  abbey 
reckoned  among  its  monks  the  Saxon  Dunstan,  who  iiad  been 
carried  away  from  his  native  island  by  pirates,  and  became, 
under  the  name  of  Goustau,  the  special  patron  of  sailors,  as 
is  shown  by  the  verses  still  sung  by  the  sailors'  wives  of 
Croisic :  — 

"  St.  Goustan 
Notre  ami, 

Ramenez  nos  maris : 
St.  Goustan 
Notre  amant, 

Ramenez  nos  parents." 

At  the  extreme  point  of  the  peninsula  and  of  Gaul,  on  the 
height  of  the  promontory  so  fitly  named  Finisterre,  rose  an 
abbey  in  honor  of  St.  Matthew  the  Evangelist,  whose  head 
St.  Mat-  had  been  stolen  from  Egypt  by  the  Armorican  navi- 
tiiTLand's  g^tors,  and  which  long  bore  the  name  of  St.  Mat- 
i^"d.  thew  of  the  Land's   End.     The  terrible  rocks  at  its 

''  This  beautiful  legend  of  St.  Herve,  wliich  is  so  popular  in  Bretagne, 
formerly  related  with  charming  siuiplicity,  from  the  ancient  Breton  brevi- 
aries, by  the  Dominican  Albert  de  Morlaix  (1636),  and  reproduced  after  hira 
by  the  BoUandists,  in  volume  v.  of  June.  p.  365,  has  been  recentlj^  revised, 
with  as  much  taste  as  learning,  liy  tlie  Vijcount  Hersart  de  la  Villemarque, 
member  of  the  Institute,  in  his  Legende  Ceiiique  {St  Brieuc,  1859).  To  this 
is  added  tlie  Breton  version  of  the  legend  in  verse,  and  some  poems  attrib- 
uted to  the  taint. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  471 

feet  are  still  called  the  Monks,  and  an  archipelago  of  neigh- 
boring islands  has  received  the  Breton  name  of  Aber-Beni- 
guet  (or  Benedict),  in  memory,  perhaps,  of  the  patriarch  of 
the  monks  of  the  West.  Those  of  St.  Matthew  kept  up  a 
lighthouse  for  the  safety  of  mariners  in  these  dangerous  seas, 
opposite  that  terrible  strait  of  the  Raz,  which  no  man,  accord- 
ing to  the  Breton  saying,  ever  passed  without  fear  or  grief, 
and  which  has  inspired  the  well  known  distich  :  *' My  GcJ, 
help  me  to  cross  the  Raz,  for  my  boat  is  so  little,  and  the 
sea  is  so  great  !  "  '^ 

But  the  most  ancient  and  celebrated  of  all  these  Monastic 
sanctuaries  was  that  of  Landevenec,  which  became  Lmfde-*'' 
the  most  active  centre  for  the  extension  of  Chris-  veuec. 
tianity,  as  well  as  of  manual  and  literary  labor,  in  Western 
Gaul.  Its  founder  was  Guennol^,  born  in  Armorica  of  an 
emigrant  father,  who,  after  having  passed  three  years  upon  a 
rock  beaten  by  the  waves,  chose  for  his  disciples  a  wooded 
site  hidden  in  a  creek  of  the  road  of  Brest,  with  an  exposure 
towards  the  rising  sun,  sheltered  from  the  terrible  west  wind, 
where  the  sea  sighed  at  the  feet  of  delicious  gardens.  His 
biographer  has  preserved  to  us  the  impression  made  upon  the 
Breton  monks  by  this  dwelling-place,  which  appeared  a  para- 
dise to  them  after  the  bleak  and  cold  coasts  where  they  had 
been  hitherto  established.  ''  One  could  not  die  there,"  he 
saj's  ;  and,  in  order  that  the  Religious  might  see  the  end  of 
their  pilgrimage,  Guennole  had  to  change  their  habitation  to 
a  site  further  oif,  but  still  to  the  east,  where  death  was  re- 
stored to  its  rights,  but  where,  for  long,  the  monks  died  only 
according  to  their  age.'^ 

The  name  of  Guennole  continues  popular  in  Brittany,  like 
that  of  many  other  holy  abbots,  come  from  beyond  seas,  or 

^^  At  BERT  LE  Grand,  pp.  203  and  209.  Compare  Vie  de  St.  Fannegtiy, 
p.  771,  who  founded  this  abbey,  and  is  supposed  to  have  been  one  of  the 
family  of  Chastel,  of  which  Tanneguy  du  Chastel  was  the  great  representa- 
tive in  the  fifteenth  century. 

^*  "  Locus  erat  amoenissimus,  ab  omni  vento  intangibilis  nisi  ab  orientali, 
vclut  quidam  paradisus  ad  ortum  solis  Cvmspicuus.  .  .  .  Primuni  per  annos 
singulos  in  tlores  et  germina  proiumpens,  ultima  folia  amittens  .  .  .  hortus 
omnigeno  florum  colore  decoratus.  .  .  .  In  eo  ubi  erant  loco  mori  non  pote- 
rant,  licet  fierent  seniores.  ]{)gato  itaqiie  super  his  S.  Guingaleo,  transierunt 
in  alium  locum  ad  ortum  solis.  .  .  .  L.itunc  vero  inceperunt  assumi  a  Dom- 
ino e  senioribus  patres,  qui  primi  erant."  —  Gurdestan,  Vita  S.  Winevaloci, 
ap.  BoLLAND.,  t.  i.  Martii,  pp.  259,  260.  It  is  supposed  that  Guennole  had 
been  educated  by  St.  Patrick,  the  apostle  of  Ireland,  and  that  tiie  rule  fol- 
lowed at  Landevenec  was  that  of  St.  Coluniba,  or  Colomb-Kill,  of  which 
there  shall  be  further  mention.  The  Benedictine  rule  was  only  introduced 
there  under  Louis  le  Debonnaire. 


472  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

born  in  Armorica  of  emigrant  parents.     It  is  impossible  to 

enumerate  their  works.^**     Let  us  only  state  that  the 

ie°tnuis^      principal   communities   formed    by   these    monastic 

bi™Jprics°    missionaries  were  soon  transformed  into  bishoprics. 

—  Such,  especially,  was  Dol,  destined  to  become  the 
ecclesiastical  metropolis  of  Armorica,  and  founded 
by  Samson,  perhaps  the  most  illustrious  among  the  numerous 
apostles  of  the  British  emigration.  Samson  of  Dol,  and  his 
The  Seven  six  suflVagans,  all  monks,- missionaries  and  bishops 
Saints  of  \\[^q  himsclf — namely,  Paul  of  Leon,  Tugdual  of 
monks  au.i  Treguier,  Corentin  of  Quimper,  Paterne  of  Vannes, 
ishops.  Brieuc  and  Malo,  of  the  two  dioceses  which  have 
taken  and  retained  their  names  —  have  been  sometimes 
called  the  Seven  Saints  of  Brittany.  An  anecdote,  told  of 
the  Bishop  Paterne,  may  be  quoted  as  a  curious  example  of 
the  subordination  of  the  suffragans  to  their  metropolitan: 
Having  received  at  Vannes  the  letter  of  St.  Samson,  convok- 
ing a  provincial  synod,  "  as  he  was  taking  off  his  boots, 
having  still  a  boot  upon  one  foot,  he  read  it  on  the  moment, 
and,  incontinently  getting  to  horse,  followed  the  messengers, 
and  presented  himself  at  the  synod  with  one  boot !  "  ^^  Pa- 
terne, as  his  name  indicates,  was  the  only  one  of  these  saints 
■who  was  not  of  insular  British  race,  as  Vannes  was  the  only 
diocese  among  the  seven  which  did  not  owe  its  origin  to  a 
monastery  of  British  emigrants.^^ 

Aithougli  Armorica,  thus  converted  and  repeopled  by  Brit- 
ish emigrants,  had  never  been  entirely  conquered  by  the 
Pranks,  and  was  governed  by  the  native  and  independent 
Counts  of  Vannes,  Cornouaille,  Leon,  and  Treguier,  it  recog- 
nized in  some  degree  the  supremacy  of  Childebert,  whase 
share  of  the  territories  of  Clovis  extended  farthest  to  the 
west. 

This  incomplete  and  ephemeral  supremacy  of  the  Frank 
kings,^^  which  was  afterwards  re-established  with  diflSculty 

*•  This  is  so  much  the  less  to  be  regretted,  as  the  subject  has  been  nobly 
treated  by  M.  de  la  Borderie.  in  his  Discours  sur  les  Saiiits  de  Bretagne,  at 
the  (Congress  of  Lorient,  October  2,  1848.  He  has  collected  there  the  best 
part  of  the  varied  and  instructive  details  interspersed  through  the  lives  of 
the  saints  published  in  the  Acta  SS.  by  Mabillon  and  by  the  Bollandists. 
Tlio  verdict  of  the  latter  upon  all  the  Breton  legends  ought  not,  however,  to 
be  omitted :  "  Ad  stuporeui  magis  quam  ad  imitationem  collecta." — Tom. 
vi.  Junii,  p.  572. 

"'  Albert  le  Grand,  p.  248. 

*^  Nantes  and  Rennes  were  of  Gallo-Roman  origin,  and  dependencies  of 
the  metropolis  of  Tours. 

*^  "  B'rancorurn  quidem  regibus   caetera  subditi,  at  semper  vacui  tributo," 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  473 

by  Dagobert  and  Louis  the  Debonnaire,  seems  to  have  been 
specially  recognized  and  apj3ealed  to  by  the  British  mission- 
aries. Tugdual,  abbot  and  founder  of  Treguier,  was  raised 
to  the  episcopate  onlj'  with  theconsent  of  Childebert,  '^1,^;^  i„ter- 
in  whose  court  he  was  at  the  time  of  his  election,  course  with 
The  same  was  the  case  in  respect  to  Paul  Aurelian, 
first  bishop  of  Leon,  and  recognized  as  such  by  Childebert, 
upon  the  express  request  of  the  count  of  the  province.^* 
Finally,  the  metropolitan  Samson,  being  still  only  abbot  of 
Dol,  had  to  interfere  in  his  own  person  with  Childebert  to 
obtain  the  deliverance  of  one  of  the  native  princes,  who  had 
been  robbed  of  his  inheritance  and  imprisoned  by  a  tyranni- 
cal lieutenant  of  the  Frank  king.^^  Childebert,  in  spite  of 
the  violent  resistance  of  the  queen,  whose  antrustion  this 
officer  was,  granted  the  prayer  of  the  British  missionary,  and 
overwhelmed  him  with  gifts  and  honors.  He  had  even, 
according  to  tradition,  placed  in  perpetuity,  under  the  sway 
of  the  monastery  of  Dol,  various  of  the  Channel  islands,  among 
others  that  of  Jersey,  then  deserted,  and  which  has  since, 
thanks  to  monastic  culture,  become  a  marvel  of  fertility  and 
agricultural  wealth,  with  a  population  six  times  more  dense 
than  that  of  France. 

By  one  of  those  contrasts  so  frequent  in  the  history  of  the 
Merovingians,  the  Queen  Ultrogoth,  whom  the  legend  of  St. 
Samson  represents  as  furious  against  the  monastic  missionary, 
is  extolled  by  others  as  the  faithful  coadjutrice  of  the  monks.^^ 
She  is  always  associated  by  the  gratitude  of  monks   poundation 
and   believers  with  the  memory  of  her  husband,  for  ofst.  Ger- 
having  joined  with  him  in  founding,  at  the  gates  of  Presby 
Paris,  the  great  monastery,  afterwards  so  celebrated   anci'ifum- 
under   the    name    of  St.    Germain-des-Pres.      This  o^^'^- 
church,  which  appears   to  have  been  one  of  the  finest  monu- 
ments of  the  Merovingian  age,  the  organs  and  painted  glass 

says  Procopius  in  the  passage  quoted  above  on  the  inhabitants  of  the  sea- 
shore. 

^*  BoLLAND.,  t.  ii.  Mart.,  p.  119.  "  Tlie  holy  Abbot  Armel,  one  of  tlie 
apostles  of  Lower  Brittany,  lived  for  seven  years  in  the  neighborliood  of 
Ciiildebert." — Prop?:   Venetense,  ap.  Albert  le  Grand,  p.  523. 

**"  "  Dicunt  ei  injustum  super  eos,  ac  violentum,  externumque  judicem 
venisse."  —  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  i.  p.  167.  It  is  this  officer  who  is  called 
in  the  legends  of  S.  Samson,  S.  Juval,  S.  Leonor,  S.  Tugdual,  and  S.  Herve, 
Coiiomor  or  Kon-mor ;  that  is  to  say,  the  Great  Chief.  He  governed  Doni- 
nonia,  which  comprised  almost  all  Armorica,  and  was  taken  into  the  private 
service  of  Queen  Ultrogoth,  or,  as  the  Franks  say,  into  her  trust.  Compare 
DoM  LoBiNEAU,  Saints  de  Bretagne,  pp.  59.  91,  94,  105,  111,  ed.  of  1725. 

"®  "Adjutrix  fidclis  monaclioruni."  —  A.nn.  Bened.,  lib.  v.  c.  43. 

40* 


474  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

of  whii;h,  two  beautiful  creations  of  Catholic  ai't,^"  were  even 
then  admired,  had  first  been  built  by  Childebert  in  honor  of 
the  martyr  St.  Vincent,  whose  tunic  he  had  carried  off  from 
the  Arian  Visigoths  at  the  time  of  his  victorious  invasion  of 
Spain.  He  bestowed  it  upon  the  monks  with  the  consent  of 
the  Bishop  of  Paris,  Germain,  himself  a  monk,  and  formerly 
abbot  of  St.  Symphorian  of  Autun. 

„    ,  *•  One  day,"  says  the   Breton  lee-end,  "  the  Abbot 

of  Mffricui-  of  Dol  and  the  Bishop  of  Paris  talked  together  about 
ucts^be™**  their  monasteries.  ...  St.  Samson  said  that  his 
I'n'-isi- n"'  monks  were  such  good  managers,  and  so  careful  of 
and  Breton    their  bochives,  that  besides  the   honey,  of  which 

'"^^'  they  had  an  abundant  supply,  they  had  more  wax 
than  they  could  use  in  the  church  during  the  whole  year; 
but  that  the  country  not  being  fit  for  the  growth  of  vines, 
they  had  a  great  dearth  of  wine.  And  we,  on  the  contrary, 
said  St.  Germain,  have  vineyards  in  abundance,  and  a  much 
greater  quantity  of  wine  than  is  wanted  for  the  supply  of  the 
monastery  ;  but  we  are  obliged  to  buy  wax  for  the  church. 
If  it  pleases  yon,  we  will  give  you  every  year  the  tenth 
part  of  our  wine,  and  you  shall  furnish  us  with  wax  to  light 
our  church.  Samson  accepted  the  offer,  and  the  two  monas- 
teries mutually  accommodated  each  other  during  the  life  of 
the  saints."  ^^ 

Popularity  The  Parisian  abbey  afterwards  received  the  name 
ma^n'inonk  of  St.  Germain,  who  continued  always  a  monk  ia 
and  bishop.  ^\^q  exercisc  of  his  episcopal  charge,^^  and  who  him- 
self exempted  the  new  monastery  from  episcopal  jurisdiction. 
As  long  as  he  lived  he  exercised  the  most  salutary  influence 
over  the  Merovingian  kings.  He  consequently  became  one 
of  the  most  popular  saints  that  the  monastic  order  has  given 
to  the  Church;  and  the  Parisians  long  narrated,  among  other 
tales  of  his  inexhaustible  charity,  how, "  esteeming  the  voice 
of  the  poor  more  than  the  giit  of  the  king,"  he  had  sold,^''  in 
order  to  buj'  back  a  slave,  the  costly  horse  which  the  king 
had  given  him,  charging  him  to  keep  it  for  himself. 

Childebert  died  in  his  arms,  and  was  buried  in  the  church 
of  the  monastery  which  he  had  endowed  so  richly,  with  the 
'Consent  of  all  the  Frankish  and  Neustrian  chiefs.^^     At  his 

^^  Venantius  Fortunatds,  Carmina,  ii.  10  and  11. 
®®  Albert  le  Grand,  p.  422. 

89  4i  Adeptus  gradum  curse  pastoralis,  de  reliquo  monachus  persistebat." 
—  Albert  lb  Grand,   Vit.  S.  Germani,  c.  12. 

^  Chroniques  de  St.  Denys   liv.  )ii.  l-.  5.     Compare  Venant.  Fort.,  c.  22. 
®*  *'  Cum  consensu  et   voiauiatc  iraucorum   et  Neustrasioruui."      The 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  475 

death  his  brother  Clotaire  became  the  sole  king  of     c^taire 
the  Frank  monarchy.     He  too,  despite  his  too  cer-     "^I'^^^H'^ 
tain  ferocity,  had   known  and  loved  the  monks :  he 
also  desired  to   be  buried  in  the  church  of  the  monastery 
which  he  had  founded  in  his  capital  of  Soissons  under  the 
name  of  St.  Medard,  which  was  that  of  a  great  bishop  (the 
son  of  a  Frank  and  a   Roman  woman)  whose  virtues    he    had 
admired,  and  whose  words  he  had  sometimes  listened  to.    He 
testified   his   faith  and   his  too  just   terrors,  when  dying,  in 
these  words,  which  Gregory  of  Tours   has   preserved  to  us  : 
*'  What  must  be  the   power  of  that   King  of  heaven,   who 
makes  the  most  powerful  kings  of  the  earth  die  thus  as  he 
pleases?  "92 

The  great  figure  of  St.  Gregory  of  Tours  over-  Gregory  of 
shadows  all  tiie  second  generation  of  tlie  descend-  th°e"son°of 
ants  of  Clovis  and  those  bloody  struggles  between  ciotaire. 
the  sons  of  Clotaire,  of  which  he  has  left  an  undying  picture 
in  his  famous  narrative,  restored  and  sometimi^s  altered  by 
the  pen  of  the  greatest  historian  of  our  day.^^  Some  have 
looked  on  him  as  a  monk,^*  and  we  would  fain  feel  ourselves 
entitled  to  claim  his  pure  glory  for  the  monastic  order;  what 
is  certain  is,  that  he  was  by  far  the  most  honest  and  illustrious 
person  of  the  times  which  he  has  described.  Saddened  and 
sometimes  deeply  discouraged  by  those  horrors  of  which  he 
was  the  witness  and  annalist,  his  soul  was  always  superior  to 
his  fortune,  and  even  to  his  talents.  Without  losing  sight  of 
that  profound  respect  for  the  sovereign  power  with  which 
the  traditions  of  his  family  and  his  Roman  predilections  in- 
spired him,  he  never  hesitated  to  make  a  stand  when  it  was 
necessary  against  the  grandsons  of  Clovis,  and  especially 
against  Chilperic,  whom  he  called  the  Herod  and  Nero  of  his 
ago  ;  an  atrocious  and  ridiculous  tyrant,  who  dreamt,  among 
all  his  crimes,  of  increasing  the  number  of  the  letters  of  the 
alphabet,  and  of  reducing  that  of  the  persons  of  the  Trinity. 

Gregory  labored  with   all  his  might,  not  for  monarchical 

autlientic'ity  of  this  famous  cliarter,  so  often  disputed,  has  been  maintained 
by  Mabillon.  The  dedication  took  place  on  the  same  day  as  the  death  of  the 
king,  December  23,  .',38.  Tliis  date  is  confirmed  by  M.  Guerard  in  his  ad- 
mirable edition  of  the  Polyptique  d'Irminon,  t.  i.  p.  907-913.  The  first 
abbot  was  Droctoveus,  whom  Germain  brought  from  his  ancient  monastery 
of  St.  Symphorian,  at  Autun. 

^^  Bist.  Eccl.  Franc,  iii.  21. 

*^  RecHs  Merovingiens,  by  M.  Augustin  Thierry,  who  has,  however,  ren- 
dered full  homage  to  the  talent  and  character  of  his  model. 

**  "Haud  constat,"  says  Mabillon,  Ann.  Beaed.,  lib.  viii.  c.  62. 


476  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

unity,  which  no  one  dreamt  of  in  these  days,  but  for  tue  union 
of  the  Merovingian  race  as  the  sole  means  of  consoh'dating 
and  justifying  the  sway  of  the  Franks  in  Gaul.  Tlie  history 
of  France  has  inspired  few  finer  pag'es  than  this  preamble 
to  his  fifth  book,  in  which,  addressing  himself  to  all  those 
princes  unbridled  alike  in  ferocity  and  profligacy,  he  ex- 
claims :  — 

''•  I  am  weary  of  narrating  all  the  changes  of  these  civil  wars, 
which  waste  the  kingdom  and  nation  of  the  Franks.  .  .  . 
What  are  you  doing,  0  kings?  What  would  you?  What 
seek  you  ?  What  is  wanting  to  you  ?  You  inhabit  delight- 
ful houses,  your  cellars  overflow  with  wine,  corn,  and  oil,  and 
your  cofi'ers  with  gold  and  silver.  One  thing  alone  you  lack, 
the  grace  of  God,  because  you  will  not  have  peace.  Why 
will  you  always  take  or  covet  the  goods  of  others  ?  ...  If 
civil  war  is  sweet  to  thee,  0  king  !  give  thyself  to  that  which 
the  Apostle  has  revealed  to  us  in  the  heart  of  man,  to  the  war 
of  the  spirit  against  the  flesh  ;  overcome  thy  vices  by  thy 
virtues:    and    then,    enfranchised,   thou    shalt   freely    servo 

Christ,  who  is  thy  chief,  after  having  been  the  bond-slave  of 
evil."  95 

Amid  the  lifelike  and  varied  narratives  of  the  father  of  our 
history,  it  would  be  easy  to  glean  facts  which  belong  to  our 
subject,  and  to  show  among  the  grandsons  of  Clovis,  some 
who,  like  Gontran  of  Burgundy,^^  and  Sigebert  of  Austrasia, 
were  the  friends  of  the  monks  and  founders  of  new  raonaster- 

^^  "  Si  ite,  o  rex!  bellum  civile  delectat,  ill  id  quod  Apostolus  in  hominem 
agi  nieminit,  exerce,  vt  spiritus  concupiscat  adversus  carnem  {Galat.  v.  17), 
et  vitia  virtutibus  cedant;  et  tu,  liber,  capiti  tuo,  id  est,  Christo.  servias,  qui 
quondam  radici  inalorum  servieras  comp.'ditus."  —  Lib.  v.,  Prologus. 

"*  Gontran,  son  of  Clotaire  I..  King  of  Orleans,  afterwards  of  Burgundy, 
founded,  about  577,  at  the  gate  of  liis  new  capital  of  Chalon-sur-Saone,  a  cele- 
brated abbey  under  the  patronage  of  St.  Marcel,  at  the  very  place  where  this 
martyr  was  immolated  by  the  Romans,  and  where  he  remained  for  three  days 
alive,  half  buried  in  a  pit,  praying  for  his  executioners,  and  for  that  land  of 
Burgundy  which  he  fertilized  with  his  blood.  In  his  deed  of  endowment, 
Gontran  says  :  "  I  see  with  grief  that  as  a  punishment  of  your  sins  the 
churches  built  for  the  service  of  God  fall  to  decay  by  the  excessive  ambition 
of  the  princes,  and  the  too  great  neglect  of  the  prelates."  He  desired  the 
new  abbey  to  be  regulated  after  the  model  of  Agaune.  the  great  monastery 
of  the  Burgonde  kingdt)m,  which  had  preceded  Merovingian  Burgundy,  and 
consequently  introduced  there  the  Laus  Perennis.  He  followed  the  same 
course  at  St.  Benigne,  a  monastery  erected  at  Dijon  over  the  tomb  of  another 
apostle  and  martyr  of  Burgundy.  Gontran  caused  himself  to  be  interred  in 
the  monastery  which  he  had  founded,  as  his  father  Clotaire  had.  been  at  St. 
Medard,  and  his  uncle  Childebert  at  St.  Germain-des-Pres.  St.  Marcel,  con- 
verted into  a  priory  of  the  order  of  Ciuny  in  1060,  has  since  been  celebrated 
as  the  scene  of  the  retreat  and  death  of  Abelard. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  477 

ies  ;  and  some  who,  like  Chilperic  and  his  son  during  their 
incursions  south  of  the  Loire,  abandoned  the  monastic  sanc- 
tuaries to  the   flames,  the   monks  to  death  or  exile,  and  the 
nuns  to  the  brutal  insults  of  their  soldiers.^'   It  will  be  better 
worth  our  while  to  suspend  that  arid  nomenclature,  and  pause 
a  moment  upon  the  noble  attitude  of  a  Gallo-Roman  monk,^^ 
whom  Gregory  knew  well,  whose  history  he  has  related  to 
us.  and  in  whom  monastic  life  seems  to  have  developed  a  lively 
and  tender  solicitude  for  the  misery  of  his  fellow-citizens. 
Aredius,  born  at  Limoofes  of  an  exalted  family,  had    ,    ^. 
been   recommended,  or  given  as  a  hostage,  in   his  chancellor 
childhood,  to  the  Frank  king  Theodebert,  the  same  bert.'be-^^' 
whom  we  have  seen  civino:  so  cordial  a  welcome  to  comes  a 

o  e'  ,  ^ ,  monk. 

the  sons  of  St.  Benedict  at  Glanf^uil.  Aredius  soon 
brought  himself  into  so  muph  favor  with  this  prince  that  he 
became  his  secretary,  or,  as  it  was  already  called,  his  chan- 
cellor.^9  This  was  an  office  which  then  began  to  acquire 
great  importance,  and  the  holders  of  which  repeatedly  en- 
tered the  ranks  of  the  monastic  order.  That  monk,  called 
Nizier,  who  had  become  bishop  of  Treves,  and  whose  courage 
and  humanity  we  have  already  recorded,  imagined  that  he 
saw  the  stamp  of  celestial  grace  in  the  face  of  the  young 
courtier  whom  he  met  in  the  palace.  He  led  him  to  his  cell, 
'  where  he  spoke  to  him  of  God,  and  in  bringing  him  to  a 
knowledge  of  religious  truth,  inspired  him  with  an  inclina- 
tion for  cloistral  life.  A  dove  who,  during  these  confidential 
interviews,  came  incessantly  to  the  young  and  gentle  Are- 
dius to  perch  on  his  head  or  shoulder,  still  further  convinced 
the  prelate  that  the  Holy  Spirit  was  to  inspire  his  pupil.^*^ 

»'  Greg.  Tueon.,  iv.  48. 

®*  Hist.  Eccl.  Francor.,  lib.  x.  c.  29.  Two  other  Lives  of  St.  Aredius  also 
exist  (ap.  Bolland.,  t.  vi.  August.,  p.  175).  The  first  and  shortest,  Vita 
prima,  is  b}'  an  anonymous  contemporary.  The  second,  Vita prolixior,  is 
attributed  by  Mabillon,  who  has  publisiied  it  in  his  Analecta  (p.  198),  to 
Gregory  of  Tours  himself;  but  Ruinart  {Opera.  Greg.  Tur.,  p.  1285)  and 
the  Bollandists  have  shown  that  this  was  incorrect.  However,  Gregory 
speaks  of  him  in  several  other  parts  of  his  works.  {Hist.  Franc,  lib.  viii. 
c.  15  and  27.  De  Mirac.  &.  Juliani,  c.  40.  De  Virtut.  S.  Martini.,  ii.  39. 
Be  Gloria  Confess.,  c.  9.) 

®'  "  Parentela  nobili  generatus.  .  .  .  Nobilissima  videlicet  origine.  •  .  . 
Valde  ingenuus.  .  .  .  Theodeberto  regi  traditus,  aulicis  palatinis  adjungitur. 
.  .  .  Ut  cancellarius  prior  ante  conspectum  regis  adsisteret.  .  .  .  Cancellarii 
Bortitus  officiujn." —  Ubi  supra.  Le  Huerou,  founding  upon  some  document 
whose  origin  he  does  not  state  (Sanctus  Aridius,  Lemovicensis  abbas,  apud 
Theodebertum  cancellarius,  qua  prior  er at  militia  palatina),  says  that  this 
charge  was  the  most  eminent  post  in  the  Court  of  the  Merovingians.  —  Insiit. 
Merov.,  i.  383. 

100  4>  i^escio  quid  in  vultu  ejus  cernens  divinum.  .  .  .  Cum  ingressi  in 


478  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

He  pormitted  him,  however,  to  return  to  his  owncountrj^to  hig 
mother  Pelagia,  who  had  no  children  but  himself.  But  when 
he  returned  to  his  native  Limousin,  Aredius  took  no  thought 
of  his  fields  or  his  vineyards,  which  he  gave  up  to  his  mother, 
charging  her  to  provide  for  the  subsistence  of  the  h'ttle  com- 
munity which  he  formed  on  one  of  his  estates,  filling  up  its 
numbers  principally  from  the  people  of  his  house,^^^  and  which 
became  the  origin  of  a  town,  named  after  him  St.  Yrie'ix.^'^^ 

lie  had  fii'st  intended  to  seclude  himself  in  a  cavern,  but, 
at  the  prayer  of  his  mother,  he  transferred  his  monastery  to 
a  more  agreeable  site.  He  divided  his  time  between  agri- 
caltural  labor  and  study  ;  he  speciall}'  transcribed  with  his 
own  hand  copies  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  and  liturgical  books 
which  he  took  pleasure  in  distributing  among  the  churches 
of  the  neighboring  dioceses.  The  poor  and  the  sick  crowd- 
ed to  him  like  bees  to  the  hive.^o^  fj^.  helped  the  one  and 
cured  the  other.  He  went  to  Tours  every  year  out  of  his 
cloister  to  celebrate  the  feast  of  St.  Martin,  and,  with  many 
prayers,  to  kiss  the  tomb  of  the  great  bishop  ;  then,  cross- 
ing the  Loire,  went  to  Marmoutier  to  rebaptize  himself  in  the 
monastic  spirit,  by  visiting  all  the  spots  where  Martin  had 
knelt  in  prayer,  or  which  he  had  sanctified  by  song;  he  car- 
ried back  with  him,  as  a  medicine  for  his  sick,  the  water  of 
the  well  which  Martin  had  opened  by  his  own  labor.  There 
he  met  the  Bishop  Gregory,  whose  intimate  friend  he  became, 
and  who  has  preserved  to  us  all  these  details. ^'^^ 

.  He  continued  in  the  mean  time  to  keep  up  his  in- 

fereswith  tcrcourse  with  the  Merovingian  princes,  and  by  this 
viug^uTto  u^eans  interfered  on  behalf  of  the  oppressed  popu- 
lighten         lation.     More  than  once,  when  the  tributes  and  vil- 

tiixation.         .    .  1  •     1        •    ) 

lani-tax  were  applied  with  too  much  seventy  to  the 

cellulara  de  iis  quae  ad  Dcuni  pertinent  confabularentur  .  .  . "  —  Greg. 
TuR.,  loo.  cit. 

101  a  Sive  exercitium  agroruni,  sive  cultus  vinearum.  .  .  .  Ex  familia  pro- 
pria tonsuratos  instruit  nionachos."  —  Jbid.  In  his  ffisto7-y,  Gregory  Siiy& 
that  he  followed  the  rules  of  Cassianus,  St.  Basil,  and  other  abbots,  qui 
monasterialem  vitam  institueriint.  He  makes  no  special  mention  of  St. 
Benedict;  but  in  the  Vita  prolixior,  wriili^n  by  an  eye-witness  of  the  mira- 
cles which  were  performed  on  the  tomb  of  Aredius  at  the  end  of  the  sixth 
century,  everything  bears  the  stamp  of  the  Benedictine  rule.  Compare  Bol- 
LAND.,  loc.  cit. 

'"^  Now  a  district  county-town  in  the  Haute- Vienne. 

103  41  jjj  villis  amoenis.  .  .  .  Incumbens  lectioni  .  .  .  laborans  per  agros, 
alimoniam  corpori  quserebat.  .  .  .  Codices  sacros.  .  .  .  Multitudo  pauperum 
velut  apes  ad  alvearium  confluebant  ad  euni." —  Vita prolixior,  p.  200. 

'°^  "  Beatuin  sepulcrum  orando  deosculans.  .  .  .  Anno  transito  .  .  . 
cuncta  circuit,  cuncta  peragrat.  .  .  ."  —  De  Mir.  S  Mart.,  ii.  39.  Ccm 
pare  iii.  2i. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  479 

cities  of  the  Gauls,  according  to  lists  which  the  kings  hnd 
made  out,  he  hastened  to  ask  a  diminution  of  that  intolerable 
burden.  One  day,  when  going  through  Paris,  he  i)ad  trav- 
elled secretly  and  in  haste  as  far  as  Braine,  Avhere  King  Chil- 
peric  then  was,  the  latter,  who  was  sick  of  a  fever,  when 
informed  of  his  arrival,  immediately  ordered  him  to  bo 
brought,  in  hope  to  obtain  a  cure  by  the  prayers  of  the  ser- 
vant of  God.  But  Aredius,  while  feeling  his  pulse,  could 
•  peak  of  nothing  but  the  object  of  his  journey.  The  king, 
louchad  or  terrified  by  his  remonstrances,  delivered  up  to 
liim  the  lists  of  the  contributions  which  weighed  so  cruelly 
upon  the  poor  people.  Then  the  abbot  lighted  a  [.jejjurns 
great  fire  and  burned  the  fatal  registers  with  his  rheregis- 
own  hands,  in  the  presence  of  a  numerous  crowd. 
He  had  before  announced  that  the  king  would  be  healed,  but 
that  his  sons  should  die  in  his  stead,  which  happened  as  he 
said.i(>5 

On  another  occasion,  having  heard  that  there  were  several 
persons  condemned  to  death  at  Limoges,  he  went  from  his 
monastery  to  the  town,  to  consult  upon  the  means  of  saving 
them.  Here  popular  tradition  is  carried  away  by  the  memory 
of  that  compassion  for  all  kinds  of  misfortunes  with  which  the 
heart  of  the  holy  abbot  overflowed.  It  records,  that  as  soon 
as  he  approached  the  prison,  the  doors  turned  on  their  hinges 
of  themselves,  and  all  the  locks  were  broken,  as  well  as  the 
chains  of  the  captives,  who  were  thus  enabled  to  escape  and 
seek  an  inviolable  asylum  at  the  tomb  of  St.  Martial,  the  first 
apostle  of  Limousin.i*^^ 

joo  u  j^ccjfijt;  ut  populis  tributa  vel  census  a  regibus  fuissent  descripta  :  quas 
conditio  universis  urbibus  per  Gallias  constitutis  sumniopere  est  adhibita. 
Pro  hac  se  vir  reverentissimus  pietate  motus  ad  regis  praisentiam  properavit, 
ut  suggestioneni  daret  pro  civibus,  qui  gravi  censu  publico  fuerant  edicto  ad- 
Bcripti.  .  .  .  Alio  quoque  tempore,  pro  liujuscemodi  conditione  properavit 
itinere.  .  .  .  Ccepit  cum  manibus  suis  palpare.  .  .  .  Libros  ipsos,  quibus  in- 
scriptus  pro  gravi  censu  populus  regni  ejus  tenebatur  afflictus.  .  .  .  Jussit 
prunas  parari.  .  .  .  Apprehensos  manibus  ipsis  libros,  multis  etiam  circum- 
stantibus,  incendio  concremavit." —  Vita  prolixior,  p.  203.  The  Bollandists 
(p.  190;  and  Kuinart  think  that  this  king,  who  is  not  named  in  the  contempo- 
rary narrative,  was  Chilperic  I.,  king  of  Neustria,  and  son  of  Clotaire;  but  it 
is  singular  that  Gregory  of  Tours,  who  knew  Aredius  so  well,  has  not  named 
him  in  relating  how  Fredegond  and  Chilperic  decided  on  burning  the  taxing 
lists  after  the  death  of  their  three  sons.  —  Hist.  Franc,  lib.  i.  c.  35. 

'"^  '•  Confestim  .  .  .  velut  magno  ferientis  impulsu  confractae  seraB,  dissi- 
pati  cardines  ostia  carceris  patefacta,  et  omnia  vincula  compeditorum  resoluta 
sunt." —  Vita  prolixior,  p.  201.  Gregory  of  Tours  relates  another  incident 
which  shows  to  what  an  extent  the  monks  were  then  regarded  as  the  natural 
and  ['owerful  protectors  of  the  condemned.  A  criminal  was  condemned  to 
ieath ;  when  he  had  been  hung,  the  rope  broke,  and  he  fell  to  the  ground 


480  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

A  still  more  authentic  memorial  of  his  solicitude 
for  his  inferiors  remains  to  us  in  his  will,  written 
twenty  years  before  his  death,  and  confirmed  on  the  eve  of 
that  day  when,  full  of  years  and  labors,^*^'^  he  appeared  be- 
fore God.  By  this  document  he  places  his  monastery  and 
monks,  his  villa  of  Excideuil  with  all  the  serfs  or  mancipia 
who  cultivated  his  vineyards,  and  whose  names  and  families 
he  enumerates  carefully,  under  the  protection  of  the  church 
of  St.  Martin  of  Tours,  which  was  then  the  most  venerated 
sanctuary  in  Gaul.  He  stipulates  expressly  that  certain 
female  vassals,  whom  he  names,  should  pay  only  atriens  each, 
3"early,  to  the  monks  of  his  monastery.  Finally,  he  mentions 
name  by  name,  fifty  men  and  women,  among  whom  was  a 
certain  Lucy,  whom  he  had  ransomed  from  captivity  ;  he  in- 
trusted their  freedom  to  the  guardianship  of  St.  Martin. 
"  These  are,"  he  says,  "  my  freed  men  and  women,  some  of 
whom  have  been  confided  to  me  by  my  father  of  blessed 
memory,  and  the  others  I  have  myself  enfranchised  for  the 
good  of  my  brother's  soul ;  I  give  them  to  thy  charge,  my 
lord  St.  Martin.  And  if  any  man  assumes  to  exact  from  them 
wdiat  they  do  not  owe,  or  to  disturb  and  oppress  them  for 
any  reason  whatever,  it  shall  be  thy  part,  St.  Martin,  to 
defend  them."i08 

During  the  last  sufferings  of  this  benefactor  of 
the  unfortunate  and  the  slaves,  a  poor  sick  woman, 
one  possessed  with  a  devil,  whom  the  holy  abbot  had  not 
been  able  to  heal,  escaped  from  the  prison  where  she  had 
been  confined,  and  ran  to  the  monastery,  crying  —  "Come, 
friends  and  neighbors,  make  haste  ;  come,  let  us  hasten  to 

without  being  hurt.  They  hung  him  anew.  On  this  news,  the  abbot  of  the 
nearest  monastery  ran  to  the  count,  or  judge  of  the  district,  to  intercede  for 
him,  and  after  having  obtained  the  life  of  the  culprit,  he  brought  him  to  the 
monastery  penitent  and  saved.  —  De  Mirac.  S.  Mai-tini,  iii.  53. 

107  u  Post  labores  innumeros  viriliter  ac  fortiter  toleratos." —  Vita  prima, 
No.  13. 

108  "  Volumus  ut  .  .  .  sub  defensione  tua,  sancte  domine  Martine,  con- 
sistant  .  .  .  cum  Lucia  quam  redeinimus  captivam.  .  .  .  Ita  liberos  et  li' 
beras  nostras,  quos  nobis  bonas  memorise  genitor  noster  Jocundus  per  testa- 
mentum  suum  commendavit,  similiter  et  ilios  quos  pro  remedio  animae  bonae 
memoriae  fratris  nostri  Eustadii  liberos  fecimus  tibi,  sancte  Martine,  defen- 
sando  commendamus.  Et  si  quis  eis  amplins  praeter  hoc  quod  eis  injunctum 
et  in  quolibet  inquietare  aut  dominarc  vohnrit,  tu,  sancte  Slartine,  defendas." 
—  Mabillon,  Analecta,  p.  20'J.  The  authenticity  of  this  testament,  men- 
tioned by  Gregory  of  Tours,  published  and  annotated  as  authentic  by  Mabil- 
lon and  Ruinart,  has  been  disputed  by  Le  Cointe.  The  BoUandists  discuss 
without  deciding  this  question.  It  is  very  long,  and  contains  a  multitude  of 
arrangements  which  make  it  one  oi  the  most  curious  documents  of  the 
period. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  481 

meet  the  martyrs  and  confessors  who  are  coming  to  celebrate 
tlie  obsequies  of  our  lioly  abbot.  Behold  Julian  approachin,sf 
from  Brives,  Martin  from  Tours,  Martial  fi'om  our  city  of 
Limoges,  Saturnin  from  Toulouse,  Denis  from  Paris,  and 
many  others  who  are  in  heaven,  and  to  whom  you  appeal  as 
martyrs  and  confessors  of  God."  Aredius  some  time  before 
had  predicted  his  own  death  to  his  friend  Gregory  of  Tours, 
and  taken  leave  of  him  while  kissing  the  tomb  of  St.  Martin 
for  the  last  time;  he  died  above  eighty  years  old;  and  tLa 
poor  possessed  woman  was  cured  by  his  intercession. i*^^ 

That  faith  which  opened  heaven  to  the  eyes  of  that  poor 
woman,  and  showed  her  the  apostles  whose  martyrdom  had 
worked  the  iirst  conversion  of  Gaul,  standing  closer  in  their 
ranks  to  admit  the  new  confessors  produced  by  the  monastic 
order, —  that  ardent  and  tender  faith  naturally  inspired  the 
hearts  of  the  Christian  women  of  Gaul,  and  rendered  the 
cloisters  from  which  issued  so  many  alms,  and  at  the  same 
time  so  many  examples  of  virtue,  more  and  more  dear  to 
them.  Those  who  did  not  adopt  religious  life  in  their  own 
person  had  brothers  or  sisters  in  it,  or  dearer  still,  >sons  and 
daughters;  and  maternal  love  thus  redoubled  their  attach- 
ment to  an  institution  in  which  all  the  blessings  and  duties 
of  Christianity  were  to  them  embodied.  The  same  Gregory 
of  Tours  whose  invaluable  narrative  enlightens  us  in  the 
history,  not  of  the  early  times  of  our  country  alone,  but  also 
of  the  human  heart,  relates  a  touching  incident  in  connection 
with  the  famous  abbey  of  Agaune  (which  we  have  already 
mentioned  ^^^),  which  was  built  in  honor  of  St.  Maurice  and 
the  martyrs  of  the  Theban  legion,  on  a  site  near  the  outlet  of 
the  Rhone  into  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  and  became  the  monastic 
metropolis  of  the  kingdom  of  Burgundy.  A  mother  had 
taken  her  only  son  to  this  monastery,  where  he  became  a 
monk,  especially  instructed  and  skilful  in  chanting  the  litur- 
gical service;  he  fell  sick  and  died  ;  his  mother,  in  despair, 
came  to  bury  him,  and  returned  ever}^  day  to  weep  Maternal 
and  lament  over  his  tomb.     One  night  she  saw  St.      *°^^  ^'"^ 


monastic 


Maurice  in  a  dream  attempting  to  console  her,  but     son 

109  u  Dixit  nobis  se  baud  lungaevo  tiinpore  adlmc  in  boc  niundo  retineri. 
.  .  .  "V'ale  dicens  .  .  .  gratias  agens  quod  priusquam  obiret,  sepulcrum  B. 
antistitis  osculari  promeruisset.  .  .  .  Currite,  fives,  exsiiite,  populi;  exite 
obviam.  .  .  .  Ecce  adest  Julianus,  .  .  .  Martinlis  ab  urbe  propria,  .  .  . 
Dionysius  ab  urbe  Parisiaca,  .  .  .  quos  vos  ut  confessores  et  I)ei  martyrea 
adoratis."'  —  Gkeg-  Tur.,  x.  29. 

*'"  See   p.  291,  and   p.  450,  on  tbe  occasion  of  the  journey  of  St.  Maur. 

VOL.  I.  41 


482  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

ans\eered  him.  ''  No,  no :  as  long  as  I  live  I  shall  always  weep 
my  son,  my  sole  child."  "  But,"  answered  the  saint,"  he  must 
not  be  wept  for  as  if  he  were  dead  :  he  is  with  us,  he  rejoices 
in  eternal  life,  and  to-morrow  at  matins,  in  the  monastery, 
thou  shalt  hear  his  voice  among  the  choir  of  the  monks ;  and 
not  to-morrow  only  but  every  day  as  long  as  thou  livest." 
The  raotlier  immediately  rose  and  waited  with  impatience 
the  first  sound  of  the  bell  for  matins,  to  hasten  to  the  church 
of  the  monks.  The  precentor  having  intoned  the  response, 
when  the  monks  in  full  choir  took  up  the  anthem,  the  mother 
immediately  recognized  the  voice  of  her  dear  child.  She  gave 
thanks  to  God ;  and  every  day  for  the  rest  of  her  life,  thus 
deluding  her  grief  and  maternal  tenderness,  the  moment  she 
approached  the  choir,  she  heard  the  voice  of  her  well-beloved 
son  mingle  in  the  sweet  and  holy  harmony  of  the  hturgicai 
chant.i^i  And  to  us  too  it  seems  to  echo  across  the  ages,  that 
voice  of  the  child,  vocem  w/arduli,  the  purest,  the  dearest, 
the  most  heaven-like  melody  that  the  human  ear  can  receive. 
The  Armorican  legend  also  stirs  that  same  chord  of  mater- 
nal love.  It  tells  us  how  the  mother  of  the  Christian  bard, 
the  blind  Herve,  having  consented  to  place  him  for  seven 
years  apart  from  her  in  a  cloister,  where  he  was  taught  to 
excel  in  song,  went  to  see  him,  and  said,  as  she  was  approach- 
ing :  "  I  see  a  procession  of  monks  advancing,  and  I  hear  the 
voice  of  my  son  ;  if  there  should  be  a  thousand  singing  to- 
gether, I  could  still  distinguish  the  voice  of  my  Herve.  I 
see  my  son  in  a  gray  habit,  with  a  girdle  of  rope.  God  be 
with  you,  my  son,  the  clerk  !  when,  with  the  help  of  God,  I 
get  to  heaven,  you  shall  be  warned  of  it,  3^ou  shall  hear  the 
angels  sing."  The  same  evening  after  she  had  so  happily 
seen  him,  she  died  ;  and  her  son,  the  precentor  and  monastic 
bard,  heard  the  angels  who  celebrated  her  obsequies  in 
heaven.1^2 

"'  "  Cucurrit  mater  orbata  ad  obsequiura  funeris  plangens  .  .  .  per  dies 
Bingulos  veniebat,  et  super  sepulerum  nad  sui  .  .  .  ejulabat  .  .  .  '  l)um  ad- 
vixero,  semper  detiebo  unicuni  meum,  nee  unquam  migrabor  a  lacrymis, 
donee  ociilos  corporis  hujus  .  .  .  mors  concludat. —  Scias  eum  nobiscuni 
hahitare  et  sedentem  vitffi  perennis  consortio  nostro  perfrui.  .  .  .  Surge  cras- 
tina  die  ad  matutinum,  et  audies  vocem  ejus  inter  choros  psallentium  mona- 
choruhu'  Surgit  mulier,  longaque  ducit  suspiria,  nee  obdormit  in  strato 
BUG,  donee,  signum  ad  consurgendum  commoveatur  a  nionachis.  .  .  .  Ubi 
cantator  responsorium,  amiphonaui  caterva  suscepit  raonachorum,  audit  gen- 
itrix,  parvuli  vocem  cognoscit,  et  gratias  agit  Deo.  .  .  .  Impletum  est  ut 
omnibus  diebus  vitae  suae  vocem  audiret  int'antuli  inter  reliqua  modulamiQa 
Tocum."  — Greg.  Tur.,  De  Glor.  Martyrum,  c.  76. 

""  La  ViLLEMARQufi,  Leqende  Celtiaue,  p.  257. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  483 

The  noble  Arediiis,  whose  death  has  carried  us  back  into 
legendary  ground,  did  not  leave  his  cloister  only  to  pray  at 
the  tomb  of  St.  Martin,  or  to  seek  favor  for  an  oppressed  peo- 
ple from  the  Merovingian  kings.  He  also  went  every  year 
to  visit  in  a  monastery  of  Poitiers  the  most  illustrious  nun  of 
that  age,  Queen  Radegund. 


IV. —  ST.   RADEGUND. 

I  shall  die  in  my  nest.  —  Job  xxix.  18. 

^  Ella  g-iunse  e  lev6  ambo  le  palme, 

Ficcando  gli  occlii  verso  I'oriente, 
Come  dioesse  a  Dio :  d'iiltro  non  calme. 

Te  lucis  ante  si  divotamente 
Le  usci  de  bocca  e  eon  si  <lolci  note 
Cbe  fece  nie  a  me  uscir  di  mente. 

E  I'altre  poi  dolceniente  e  divote 
Segaitar  lei  per  tutto  I'lnno  intero 
Avendo  gli  occhi  alle  superne  rote. 

I'urgat.,  c.  viii. 

We  have  now  to  contemplate  at  greater  length  a  sweet 
and  noble  figure  which  appears  before  us  ;  it  is  that  of  the 
holy  queen  who  gave  the  first  example,  so  often  followed 
since,  of  a  crowned  head  bowed  under  the  common  discipline 
of  monastic  laws.  Her  hol}^  but  troubled  life,  as  fit  a  subject 
for  the  poet  as  for  the  historian,  was  contemporary  with  all 
the  crimes  which  soiled  the  annals  of  the  descendants  of 
Ciovis.  It  inaugurates  worthily  that  wonderful  action  of 
monastic  life  upon  the  women  and  queens  of  barbarous  na- 
tions, which  placed  a  Radegund  and  a  Bathilde  upon  the 
throne  and  the  altar,  in  an  age  which  seemed  to  be  given  up 
as  a  prey  to  the  Fredegunds  and  Brunehaults. 

During  the  expedition  of  the  kings  Thierry  Land   nerori<rin 
Clotaire  1.,  beyond  the  Rhine,  and  the  war  of  exter-  ami  cap" 
mination  which  they  waged  against  the  Thuringians    '^^  ^' 
in  529,  the  daughter  of  a  king  of  Thuringia  fell  into  the 
Lands  of  the  victors.     Her  name  was  Radegund  ;  ^^^  and,  de- 

"'  We  have  her  life  written  first  by  two  contemporaries  —  the  poet  Fortu- 
natus,  bishop  of  Poitiers,  and  Baudonivia,  a  nun  whom  she  had  brouijht  up; 
afterwards  by  Hildebert  of  Mans,  in  the  twelfth  century.  A  curious  work, 
entitled  the  Preuve  Ilistorique  des  Litanies  de  la  Grande  Reyne  de  France 
Saincte  Rad?gonde,  by  M.  Jean  Filleau,  Doctor  and  Regent  of  the  Univer- 
ity,  Advocate  of  the  King,  &c.  (Poitiers,  1543,  in  folio),  may  also  be  consulted. 
Everybody  has  read  the  passages  referring  to  her  in  M.  Augustin  Tliierry's 
Recits  Merovingiens.  M.  Edouard  de  Fleury,  in  his  Histoire  de  Satnti 
Radegonde  (Poitiers,  1848),  and,  above  all,  the  learned  and  lamented  Abbot 
Gorini,  in  his  excellent  work,  entitled  Defense  de  I'Eglise  Caiholique  contte 
les  Erreurs  Ilistoriqves,  &c.  (Lyon,  1853,  t.  ii.  ch.  15),  have  very  profitably 
refuted  the  numerous  errors  which  detract  from  the  value  of  the  narrative  of 
the  illustrious  blind  historian. 


484  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

spite  her  extreme  youtli,her  precocious  beauty  fascinated  th« 
two  brothers  to  such  a  point  that  they  had  almost  come  to 
blows  to  dispute  the  possession  of  her.  She  fell  to  Clotaire, 
the  most  cruel  and  debauched  of  all  the  sons  of  Clovis.  The 
young  and  royal  captive,  snatched  from  her  family  by  the 
right  of  conquest,  ami(.l  the  carnage  and  devastation  of  her 
country,  was  taken  into  one  of  the  villas  of  Clotaire,  where 
ho  gave  her  a  careful,  and  even  literary  education,  with  the 
intention  of  one  day  making  her  his  wife.  She  had  a  great 
taste  for  study,  but,  above  everything,  for  piety  ;  and,  far 
iVom  aspiring  to  share  the  bed  and  throne  of  her  ferocious 
conqueror,  she  told  her  young  companions  that  she  desired 
nothing  so  much  as  martyrdom. ^^"^ 

When  she  was  eighteen,  and  knew  that  the  king  was  pre- 
paring everything  for  their  marriage,  she  escaped  by  night 
Clotaire  ^^^  ^'  t»oat,  from  the  house,  situated  on  the  Sorame, 
marries  where  sho  had  been  kept.  But  she  was  soon  re- 
taken, and  Clotaire  shortly  afterwards  added  his 
prisoner  to  the  number  of  his  queens —  that  is,  of  the  wives 
whom  he  elevated  above  the  rank  of  concubines.^^^  He  is 
known  to  have  had  six  of  this  degree,  two  of  whom  were  the 
widows  of  his  brothers,  and  two  sisters  v/hom  he  had  married 
at  the  same  time.  As  for  Radegund,  he  loved  her  passion- 
ately, and  more  than  all  the  others,  at  least  for  a  time,  even 
while  chafing  at  her  coldness,  and  the  strange  contrast  which 
he  did  not  fail  to  perceive  between  her  and  himself  "  It  is 
not  a  queen  that  I  have  here,"  he  said  — "  it  is  a  true  nun."  ^^^ 

114  44  Yuitu  elcjjans.  .  .  .  Litteris  erudita.  .  .  •  Frequenter  loquens  cura 
parvulis  .  .  .  martyr  fieri  cupiens."  —  Act.  SS.  Bolland.,  t.  iii.  Aug.,  pp. 
68,  84.  "  Elegantissinia.  speciosa  niniis  et  veniista  aspectu."  —  Fit.  S.  Juni- 
ani.  c.  5,  ap.  Act.  SS.  0.  S.  Ben.,  t.  i.  p.  293. 

""  Compare  Act.  SS.  Bolland.,  loc.  cit.,  p.  50.  We  may  be  permitted 
to  refer  to  the  learned  commentary  of  the  Jesuit  hagiographies  for  the  diffi- 
culties wliich  are  raised,  not  only  by  the  polygamy  of  Clotaire,  but  especially 
by  the  question,  how  Radegund  could  liave  taken  the  veil  during  the  lifetiuie 
of  her  husband.  We  must  do  Clotaire  the  justice  to  acknowledge  that,  in 
apite  of  his  unbounded  licentiousness,  he  could  respect  virginity  whcj  it  ap- 
peared to  him  consecrated  by  religion,  as  is  shown  in  the  touching  history 
of  Consortia,  a  rich  heiress  of  Provence,  wliose  immense  fortune  had  drawn 
around  her  a  crowil  of  pretenders,  and  who  went  to  ask  of  Clotaire  the  favor 
of  remaining  in  celibacy  in  lier  own  domains,  the  revenue  of  which  was  de- 
voted to  the  Church  and  to  the  poor.  She  obtained  it,  after  having  cured  one 
of  the  daughters  of  Clotaire  of  a  mortal  malady.  Subsequently  this  young 
princess  obtained  lier  brother  Sigebert's  protection  for  Consortia,  who  was 
again  sougiit  in  marriage  by  a  Frank  noble,  that  she  might  keep  the  liberty 
which  had  been  promised  to  her  iiy  Clotaire.  —  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  i.  p. 
235. 

''*  "  Quam  tanto  auiore  dilexit,  ut  nihil  praeter  illam  se  habere  aliqucttieg 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  485 

The  young  and  beautiful  captive  naturally  sought  in  religion 
the  only  grace  which  could  console  her  for  her  marriage,  and 
the  only  strength  which  could  be  respected,  though  scarcely 
understood,  by  the  master  to  whom  she  was  obliged  Her  con- 
to  submit.  VVhen  the  king  called  her  to  sup  with  jus-'i  life. 
him,  she  made  him  wait  till  she  had  finished  her  pious  read- 
ings, which  enraged  Clotaire.  But  the  amorous  Barbarian 
soon  attempted  to  make  amends  by  presents  for  his  angry 
words.  During  the  night  she  rose  from  his  side  to  stretch 
herself  upon  haircloth  until  she  was  half  frozen,  and  could 
scarcely  be  restored  to  warmth  by  her  bed.  Her  days  were 
devoted  to  the  study  of  sacred  literature,  to  prolonged  inter- 
views with  the  students  and  bishops  who  came  to  the  court 
of  Soissons.  and,  above  all,  to  almsgiving,  and  the  manage- 
ment of  a  hospital  which  she  had  founded  in  that  estate  of 
Athies,  where  she  had  passed  the  first  years  of  her  captivity, 
and  where  she  herself  waited  on  the  sick  women  with  the 
most  devoted  care.^^" 

Everything  in  her  life  reveals  the  absolute  dominion  of  the 
faith  of  Christ  upon  her  soul,  and  her  passionate  desire  to 
serve  that  faith  without  reservation  or  delay.  At  one  time, 
when  her  servants  had  praised  the  new  attraction  added  to 
her  beauty  by  a  sort  of  head-dress,  ornamented  with  jewels, 
which  was  worn  by  Barbarian  queens,  she  hastened  to  lay 
that  diadem  upon  the  altar  of  the  nearest  church. ^^^  And  at 
another,  indignant  to  see  in  her  path  a  pagan  temple,  a  ves- 
tige of  that  which  she  regarded  as  a  diaboHcal  superstition, 
she  paused  in  the  midst  of  her  military  retinue  to  order  its 
destruction ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  furious  outcries  and  desper- 
ate resistance  of  the  surrounding  population,  composed  of 
Franks  who  were  still  idolaters  and  defended  the  sanctuary 
of  their  national  v/orship  with  swords  and  clubs,  she  remained 
on  horseback  in  the  middle  of  her  train  till  the  building  had 
disappeared  in  the  flames.^^^ 

fateretur."  —  Vita  S.  Juniani,  loc.  cit.  "  Dicebatur  liabere  se  magis  jugaleui 
monacham  quain  reginani."  —  Bolland.,  p.  69. 

"^  "  Rixas  habebat  a  conjuge,  ita  ut  vicibus  multis  princeps  per  niunera 
satisfaceret  quod  per  linguain  peccasset.  .  .  .  Gelu  penetrata  .  .  .  vix  tepe- 
fieri  poterat  vel  foco  vt'l  k'ctulo.  .  .  .  Morborum  curabat  putredines,  vjrorum 
capita  diluens."  —  Bolland.,  p.  69. 

"*  "  Quoties  .  .  .  more  vestiebat  de  barbaro,  a  circumstantibus  pudlis  si 
laudaretur  pulclierrimuni."  —  Bolland.,  p.  69. 

"3  "  SfBculari  pompa  se  comitante.  .  .  .  Fanum  quod  a  Francis  colebatur 
.  .  .  diabolico  macbinamento.  .  .  .  Franci  et  universa  multitudo  cum  gladiis 
et  fustibus.  .  .  .  Kegina  .  .  .  equum  qucm  sedebat  inantea  non  movit."  — 
Bolland.,   p.   76.      The   nun  Baudonivia,   in   relating  this   anecdote,  saya, 

41* 


486  THE  MONKS  UNDEK 

Six  years  after  her  marriage,  Clotaire  killed,  without  any 
reason,  a  3'oung  brother  of  Radegund,  the  companion  of  her 
captivity,  whom  she  loved  tenderly.  This  was  the  signal  of 
She  takes  her  deliverance.  With  the  permission  of  her  hus- 
the  v«i.        band,  how  obtained  it  is  not  known,  she  left  Soissons 

5^^-  and  went  to  Noyon  to  the  Bishop  Medard,  who  had 
great  influence  over  the  king  and  all  the  nation. 

She  found  him  at  the  altar  where  he  was  celebrating  mass, 
and  besought  him  to  consecrate  her  to  God  by  giving  her  the 
veil.  The  bishop  hesitated  and  resisted  ;  the  Frank  lords 
who  were  present  surrounded  him,  brought  hina  down  from 
the  altar  with  violence,  and  forbade  him  to  consecrate  to  God 
a  woman  whom  the  king  had  made  a  queen  by  public  mar- 
riage. Radegund  then  took  from  the  sacristy  the  dress  of  a 
nun,  in  which  she  clothed  herself,  and,  returning  to  the  altar, 
said  to  the  bishop,  "  If  thou  delayest  to  consecrate  me,  if  thou 
fearest  man  more  than  God,  the  Good  Shepherd  will  demand 
an  account  from  thee  of  the  soul  of  one  of  his  sheep."  Medard 
was  thunderstruck  by  these  words,  and  immediately  laid  his 
hands  on  her,  and  consecrated  her  a  deaconess.^^*^  Clotaire 
himself  did  not  venture  at  first  to  interfere  with  what  had 
been  done.  The  new  nun,  using  her  recognized  freedom, 
went  from  sanctuary  to  sanctuary,  dropping  everywhere,  in 
the  form  of  offerings,  her  ornaments  and  queenly  robes. 
Crossing  the  Loire,  she  arrived  first  at  Tours,  at  the  tomb  of 
St.  Martin,  to  which  pilgrims  and  the  unfortunate  resorted 
from  all  parts  of  Christendom,  and  where  she  perhaps  found 
her  illustrious  mother-in-law  Clotilda,  who  had  come  to  await 
death  near  the  holy  tomb.^-^  She  afterwards  established  her- 
self in  the  lands  of  Saix,  in  Poitou,  which  her  husband  had 
granted  her;  and  there,  living  a  truly  recluse  life,  she  began 
to  practise  the  most  rigorous  austerities,  and  especially  lav- 
ished her  cares  upon  the  poor  and  sick,  and  rendered  them 
the  most  repulsive  services.  After  having  bathed  the  lepers 
with  her  own  hands,  she  kissed  their  disgusting  sores. 
"Holy  lady,"  said  one  of  her  servants,  one  day,  "  who  will 
kiss  you,  if  you  thus  kiss  the  lepers  ?  "     "  Well,"  said  she, 

"  Quod  audivimus  dicimus,  et  quod  viilimus  testamur."  It  is  probable  that 
before  following  the  queen  into  tlie  cloister  she  was  a  member  of  her  lay 
household. 

120  44  ^Q  velaret  regi  conjunctam.  .  .  .  Reginani  non  publicanam,  sed  pub- 
lieam.  .  .  .  Intrans  in  sacrarium,  raonachica  veste  induitur.  .  .  .  Quod  ille 
contestationis  concussus  tonilruo." —  Bolland.,  loc.  c,  p.  70. 

'2'  Mabillon  fixes  her  death  in  544.  The  BoUandists  (die  3  Junii,^  mention 
no  precise  date. 


THE  FIRST  MEKOVINGIANS.  487 

smiling:,  "  if  thou  dost  never  kiss  me  again,  that  is  nothino-  to 


V  122 


me. 

However,  her  fame  so  spread  that  Clotaire,  whose  ciotaire 
love  was  revived  by  absence,  set  out  to  reclaim  redi'im^ 
her.123     She  then  took   refuge  at  the  tomb  of  St.  heJ"- 
Hilary,  in  Poitiers  ;  and  he,  again  overcome  by  religious  fear, 
gave  "her  permission  to    build   a   monastery  for   women  at 
Poitiers,  and  to  seclude  herself  in  it.    When  this  cloister  was 
completed,  she  entered  it  triumphantly  amid   popular  rejoi- 
cings, making  her  way  through  crowds  of  spectators,  who, 
after  filling  all  the   streets  and   squares,  covered  even  the 
roofs  of  houses  from  which  they  could  see  her  pass  ^^^ 

But  she  was  soon  assailed  by  new  terrors.     She  heard  that 
under  pretext  of  devotion  Clotaire  had  arrived  at  Tours,  and 
that  he  had  arranged  to  come  to  Poitiers  to  seek  her  whom 
he  called  his  dear  queen.     The  holy  bishop  Medard  could  no 
longer  use  his  influence  to  defend  her :  he  was  just 
dead.     But  the    illustrious    bishop   of  Paris,  Ger-        — 1 
main,  was  still  living :  she  wrote    to  him,  adjuring  ^entecTby 
him  to  persuade  the  king  to  respect  her  vow.     The  ^*^^'^'■" 
bishop  sought  the  king  before  the  tomb  of  St.  Mar- 
tin, and  supplicated  him  on  his  knees,  weeping,  not  to  go  to 
Poitiers.    Clotaire  recognized  the  voice  of  Radegund  through 
the  words  of  Germain,  but  recognized  at  the  same  time  how 
unworthy  he  himself  was  to  have  for  his  queen  a  woman  who 
had  always  preferred  God's  will  to  her  own.     He  knelt  in  his 
turn  before  the  bishop,  and  begged  him  to  go  and  ask  pardon 
of  that  saint  for  all  the  wrong  which  evil  counsels  had  made 
him  undertake  against  her.     And  from  this  time  he  left  her 
in  peace.125 

Radegund  then  employed  herself  in  constituting  she  founds 
upon  a  solid  foundation  the  community  in  which  ^^'^^'^^'^'J.^' 
she  w^as  to  pass  the  last  forty  years  of  her  lite.  This  Croixm 

..     '  i.1  >  Poitiers. 

community  was  very  numerous  :  the  queen  s  pres- 
ence attracted  to  it  nearly  two  hundred  young  girls  of  vari. 
ous  races  and  conditions,  and  amongst  these  Gauls  of  sena. 
torial  family,  and  Frank  princesses  of  Merovingian  blood.^^* 

'*®  "  Sanctissima  domina,  quis  te  osculabitur,  quae  sic  leprosos  complec- 
teris?  .  .  .  Vere,  si  me  non  osculeris,  hinc  niihi  non  eura  est."  —  P.  71. 

123  k(  j^jj  sonus  quasi  rex  earn  iterum  vellet  accipere."  —  P.  76. 

^^*  BoLLAND,  loo.  cit.,  p.  76. 

'**  "Jam  per  internuntios  cognoverat.  .  .  .  Quasi  devotionis  causa  .  .  . 
ut  suam  reginara  acciperet.  .  .  .  Sacramentales  liUeras  fecit.  .  .  .  Proster* 
nit  se  et  ille  ante  limina  S.  Martini  pedibus  apostolici  viri."  —  Bolland., 
loc.  cit.,  p.  76. 

»2«  Greg.  Tceon.,  J)e  Glor.  Confessor,  c.  106. 


488  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

But  she  would  not  govern  them  herself,  and  caused  a  young 
Hcrciois-  g>''l  named  Agnes,  whom  she  had  herself  trained,  to 
traiiife.  be  elected  abbess.  Restricting  herself  severely  to 
the  rank  and  obligations  of  a  simple  nun,  she  took  her  turn 
in  cooking,  in  carrying  wood  and  water,  and  in  cleaning 
away  the  iilth ;  while,  notwithstanding,  she  pursued  her 
studies  of  the  Fathers  and  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  espe- 
cially continued  with  the  most  courageous  perseverance  her 
care  of  the  poor.^^'  But  this  sincere  and  active  humility  did 
not  prevent  her  from  being  considered  by  all  the  nuns,  as 
well  as  by  the  whole  Church,  the  true  superior  of  the  monas- 
tery which  she  had  founded.  At  her  petition,  the  bishops 
of  the  second  Council  of  Tours  sanctioned  the  irrevocable 
vow  of  virgins  consecrated  to  God,  according  to  the  rule  of 
St.  Cgesarius,  for  she  went  as  far  as  Aries  to  study  and  bring 
back  the  wise  and  severe  rule  which  that  great  bishop  had 
instituted  there,  a  century  before,  for  the  monastery  gov- 
erned  by  his  sister.^^s  She  had  need  of  that  protection  from 
without,  for  the  bishop  of  Poitiers,  Merovee,  showed  an  in- 
veterate hostility  to  her  all  her  life.^^^ 

On  the  other  hand,  to  adorn  still  better  her  dear  sanc- 
tuary, she  sent  to  the  Emperor  Justin  at  Constantinople  to 
ask  for  a  fragment  of  the  true  cross,  which  he  granted 
to  her.  A  new  Helena,  she  received  with  transports  of  joy 
the  holy  relic  which  gave  its  name  to  her  monastery;  and 
the  sublime  accents  of  the  Vexilla  regis  and  of  the  Pange 
lingua  echoed  for  the  first  time  in  the  cars  of  the  faithful 
upon  the  occasion  of  its  arrival  —  new  hymns  with  which 
that  solemnity  inspired  the  poet  Venantius  Fortunatus,  and 
which  all  the  Church  has  sung  since  then. 
Her  friend-  ^his  Fortuuatus  ^^o  was  an  Italian,  who,  coming 
ehipwith  to  visit  the  sanctuaries  of  God,  had  established 
Fo'rufna-  himsclf  at  Poitiers.  He  became,  long  after,  the 
*''^*  bishop  of  that  city,  and  the  biographer  of  Radegund, 

but  then  was  only  famed  for  his  poetical  talents.  The  clois- 
tered queen  made   him  her  secretary,  and  the  intendant  of 

127  (4  Monacliabus  soporantibus  calceamenta  tergens  et  ungens.  .  .  .  Sco- 
pans  monasterii  plateas  .  .  .  secretum  etiam  opus  purgare  non  tardans,  sed 
scopans  ferebat  foetores  stercorum ;  credebat  se  minorem  sibi.  si  se  non  no- 
bilitaret  servitii  vilitate  .  .  .  capita  lavans  egenorum  .  .  .  mulieres  variis 
leprae  perfasas  macuhs  eomprehendens  in  amplexibus." — Bolland.,  pp.  68,  72. 

'2s  See  above,  p.  277. 

129  Greg.  Turon.,  Hist.,  lib.  ix.  c.  39.  40. 

""  Born  at  Coneda,  near  Trevise,  in  530.  Ho  became  bishop  of  Poitiera 
only  in  599,  twelve  years  after  the  death  of  Radegund. 


THE  FIEST  MEROVINGIAISS.  489 

the  goods  of  the  monastery.  Tn  verses  where  classic  recol- 
h^ctions  and  literary  graces  mingle  perhaps  too  often  with 
the  inspirations  of  the  Catholic  faith,  he  enters  into  many 
curious  and  valuable  details  of  the  touching  intimac)"  which 
existed  between  himself,  the  abbess  Agnes, and  Radegund.i^i 
lie  often  speaks  in  the  name  of  tlie  latter,  especially  in  one 
celebrated  passage,  where  he  supposes  the  queen  to  retain, 
after  having  reached  the  age  of  fifty,  a  poignant  and  impas- 
sioned recollection  of  her  ravaged  country,  her  murdered 
family,  and  of  a  cousin  who  had  by  that  time  found  a  refuge 
at  Constantinople,  and  who  had  perhaps  shared  the  iirst  days 
of  her  captivity,  when  she  herself,  led  into  bondage,  had  left 
her  Germanic  fatherland  forever. 

As  it  has  been  said  that  Radegund  herself  had  dictated 
these  verses,  which  breathe  the  sentiment  of  true  poetry,  we 
shall  quote  some  passages,  literally  translated  :  — 

*'  When  the  wind  murmurs,  I  listen  if  it  brings  me  some 
news,  but  of  all  my  kindred  not  even  a  shadow  presents 
itself  to  me.  .  .  .  And  thou,  Amalafried,  gentle  son  of  my 
father's  brother,  does  no  anxiety  for  me  consume  thy  heart  ? 
Hast  thou  forgotten  what  Radegund  was  to  thee  in  thy  ear- 
liest years,  and  how  much  thou  lovest  me,  and  how  thou 
boldest  the  place  of  the  father,  mother,  brother,  and  sister 
whom  I  had  lost  ?  An  hour  absent  from  thee  seemed  to  me 
eternal ;  now  ages  pass,  and  I  never  hear  a  word  from  thee. 
A  v;hole  world  now  lies  betwixt  those  who  loved  each  other, 
and  who  of  old  were  never  separate.  If  others,  for  pity 
alone,  cross  the  Alps  to  seek  their  lost  slaves,  wherefore  am 
I  forgotten,  I  who  am  bound  to  thee  by  blood  ?  Where  art 
thou?  I  ask  the  wind  as  it  sighs,  the  clouds  as  they  pass; 
at  least  some  bird  might  bring  me  news  of  thee.  If  the  holy 
enclosure  of  this  monastery  did  not  restrain  me,  thou  shouldst 
see  me  suddenly  appear  beside  thee.  I  could  cross  the 
stormy  seas,  in  winter,  if  it  was  necessary.  The  tempest 
that  alarms  the  sailors  should  cause  no  fear  to  me  who  love 
thee.  If  my  vessel  were  dashed  to  pieces  by  the  tempest,  1 
should  cling  to  a  plank  to  reach  thee  ;  and  if  I  could  find 
nothing  to  cling  to,  I  should  go  to  thee  swimming,  exhaust- 
ed !  If  I  could  but  see  thee  once  more,  I  should  deny  all 
the  perils  of  the  journey;  and  if  I  died  by  the  way,  thou 
shouldst  make   me  a  grave  in  the  sand,  and  in  burying  me 

131  \Ye  refer  again  to  the  peremptory  refutation  which  M.  Gorini  has  given 
to  the  erroneous  suppositions  of  MM.  Ampere  and  Augustin  Thierry  witl; 
regard  to  that  friendship. 


490  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

shouldst  weep  for  her,  dead,  whose  tears,  when  Hving,  thou 
disdainedst."  i32 

Her  ten-  ^"*^  if  the  holj  recluse  permitted  the  Italian  poet 

dernessfor  to  invoko,  in  her  name,  those  passionate  images  of 
r  nuns,  ^j^^  past,  of  her  country,  and  her  young  aiFectious, 
no  trace  of  them  appeared  in  her  h'fe.  On  the  contrary,  she 
had  concentrated  all  the  warmth  of  her  tenderness  upon  her 
monastic  family.  When  she  saw  all  her  young  and  numerous 
brood  collected  round  her,  she  constantly  addressed  them 
thus :  "  I  love  j'ou  so  much,  that  I  remember  no  longer  that 
I  have  had  relations  and  married  a  king.  I  no  longer  love 
anj'thing  but  you,  3^oung  girls  whom  I  have  chosen,  young 
flowers  whom  I  have  planted  —  you,  my  eyes  and  my  life, 
my  rest  and  my  happiness  !  "  ^^  Thus  surrounded,  she  could 
forget  all  the  outer  world.  One  evening,  as  Fortunatus  him- 
self relates,  towards  the  close  of  day,  some  musicians  passed 
the  walls  of  the  monaster}"  dancing  and  singing  loudly.  The 
saint  was  at  prayers  with  two  of  her  sisters  ;  one  of  them  said 
to  her  gayly,  "  Madam,  these  dancers  are  singing  one  of  the 
airs  which   I  used  to  sing  myself  in  old  times."     "  Truly," 

'^*  "  Specto  libens  aliquam  si  nuntiet  aura  salutem, 

Nullaque  de  cunctis  umbra  parentis  adest.  .  .  . 
An  quod  in  absenti  te  nee  mea  cura  remordet, 

Atfectum  duhceni  oladis  amara  tulit? 
Vel  iiiemor  esto.  tuis  primaevis  qualis  ab  annis, 

Haraalefrede,  tibi  tunc  Eadegundes  erara. 
Quantum  me  quondam  dulcis  delixeris  infans.  .  .  . 
Vixeratin  spalium,  quo  te  minus  liora  referral; 

Saecula  nunc  fugiunt,  nee  tua  verba  fero.  .  .  . 
Inter  amatores  totusque  interjaeet  orbis.  .   .  . 
Si  famulos  alii,  pietatis  lege,  requirunt, 

Cur  ego  praeterear,  sanguine  juncta  parens?  .  .  . 
QuaB  loca  te  teneant,  si  sibilat  aura,  require ; 
Nubila  si  volites,  pendula  posco  locum.  .  .  . 
Prospera  vel  veniens  nuntia  ferret  avis  ! 
Sacra  monasterii  si  me  non  claustra  tenerent, 
Improvisa  aderam,  qua  regione  sedes.  .  .  . 
Et  quod  nauta  timet  non  pavitasset  amans.  .  .  . 
Ad  te  venissem,  lassa,  natante  manu. 
Cum  te  respicerem,  peregrina  pericla  negassem.  ... 

Vel  tumulum  manibus  ferret  arena  tuis.  ... 
Qui  spernis  vitse  fletus,  lacrymatus  humares." 
M.  Augustin  Thierry  has  reproduced  the  complete  text  of  this  poem,  enti- 
tled De  Excidio  Thuringia  ex  Persona  Radegundis,  at  the  end  of  his  Recits 
Merovingiens,  taking  advantage  of  the  various  readings  discovered  by   M. 
Guerard. 

13S  4,  jj,  tantum  dilexit,  ut  etiam  parentis  vel  regera  conjugem  se  habuisse, 
quod  frequenter  nobis  etiam  duni  praedicabat,  dicebat :  .  .  .  Vos,  lumina; 
vos,  mea  vita;  .  .  .  vos,  novella  plaiitatio."  —  Baudonivia,  Monialii 
^qualis,  ap.  Bolland.,  p.  77. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  491 

said  the  queen,  •'  I  wonder  that,  belonging  to  the  Lord,  you 
can  take  pleasure  in  listening  to  these  worldly  sounds." 
"But,  indeed,"  answered  the  sister,  "  it  is  because  I  hear 
two  or  three  of  my  own  songs."  "  Well,  well  !  as  for  me," 
said  the  queen,  "  I  take  God  to  witness  that  I  have  not  heard 
a  single  note  of  that  profane  music."  ^^ 

However,  governed  by  these  affections  of  the  cloister  and 
thoua-hts  of  heaven  as   she  was,  she  retained,  not- 
withstanding,  an  anxious  solicitude  tor  the  interests  tuciefor 
of  the  royal  house  and  the  country  of  her  marriage,   ^mon-the 
At  the  height  of  the  struggles  between  her  daugh-  H^l^P^^- 
ters-in-law,  the  atrocious  Fredeguiid  and  Brunehault, 
she  perpetually  interposed  to  preach  peace  and  reconciliation. 
The  salvation  of  the  country,  says  the  faithful  companion  of 
her  life,  was  always  in  her  mind  ;  she  trembled  through  all 
her  frame  when  she  heard  of  some  new  rupture.     Although 
she,  perhaps,  inclined  towards  the  side  of  Brunehault  and  her 
children,  she  included  all  the    Merovingian  princes  in   her 
love.     She  wrote  to  all  the   kings,  one  after  the  other,  and 
then  to  the  principal  lords,  adjuring  them  to  watch  over  the 
true  interests  of  the   people  and  the   country.     "  Peace  be- 
tween the  kings  is  my  victory,"  she  said  ;  and  to  obtain  this 
from  the  celestial  King,  she  engaged  the  prayers  of  all  her 
community,  and  redoubled,  for  her  own  part,  her  fasts,  pen- 
ances, and  charity .1^ 

For  this  woman,  who  is  represented  to  us  as  Heraus- 
"  seeking  a  sort  of  compromise  between  monastic  terities. 
austerity  and  the  softened  and  elegant  habits  of  civilized  so- 
ciety," 13^  was  not  only  the  first  to  practise  what  she  taught 
to  others,  but  actually  inflicted  tortures  upon  herself  to  re- 
dace  her  flesh  more  completely  into  servitude.  It  is  true 
that,  full  of  indulgence  for  her  companions,  she  permitted 
them  frequent  intercourse  with  their  friends  outside,  repasts 

134  "Inter  choraulas  et  citharas  .  .  .  multo  fremitu  cantaretur.  .  .  .  Dom- 
ina,  recognovi  unam  de  meis  canticis  a  saltantibus  praedicari.  .  .  .  Vcre, 
Domina,  duas  et  tres  hie  modo  meas  canticas  audivi  quas  tenuit."  —  Venan- 
Tius  FoRTUNAT.,  Ibid.,  p.  74.  These  two  sketches,  which  M.  Thierry  has 
not  thought  proper  to  draw  from  sources  which  he  has  so  often  quoted,  might 
have  sufficed  to  refute  most  of  his  assertions. 

'^*  "  Semper  de  salute  patriae  curiosa  .  .  .  quia  totos  diligebat  reges.  .  .  . 
Tota  tremcbat,  et  quales  litteras  uni,  tales  dirigebat  alteri.  .  .  .  Ut,  eis  reg- 
nantibus,  populi  et  patria  salubrior  redderetur." — Bacdoniva,  loc  c,  p. 
78.  Compare  p.  80,  on  Brunehault.  This  is  an  excellent  answer  to  that 
professor  who  wrote,  some  years  ago,  that  the  word  patrie  was  unknown  in 
the  Christian  world  before  the  Renaissance. 

'**  Aug.  TniEERT,  Recits  Merovingiens,  t.  ii.  p.  153,  7th  edition. 


492  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

in  common,  and  even  dramatic  entertainments,  the  custom  of 
wliich  was  then  introduced,  and  long  maintained  in  the 
learned  communities  of  the  middle  ages.^-^^  But  she  refused 
for  herself  every  recreation  or  softening  of  the  rule.  She 
went  so  far  as  to  heat  a  metal  cross  in  the  fire  and  stamp  it 
upon  her  flesh,  Avhich  was  still  too  delicate  to  satisfy  her,  as 
the  sacred  stigmata  of  her  love  for  the  cruciBed  Saviour.^^^ 
Her  friend-  ^^^^  *^^®  time  of  her  death  she  wore  upon  her 
si'it^f^-r  naked  flesh  an  iron  chain,  which  she  had  received  as 
dictine  a  gift  froui  a  lord  of  Poitou,  named  Junian,  who  had, 
juaian.  jjj^^  hcrsclf,  quitted  the  world  for  a  life  of  solitude, 
and  who  kept  together  by  the  bond  of  charity  a  numerous 
body  of  monks  under  the  rule  which  the  beloved  disciple  of 
Benedict  had  just  brought  into  Gaul.  A  worthy  rival  of  the 
charity  of  Radegund,  he  supported,  at  great  expense,  herds 
of  cattle  and  rich  poultry-yards,  in  order  to  give  the  poor 
peasants  oxen  for  ploughing,  clothes,  eggs,  and  chee.-e,  and 
even  fowls  for  the  sick.  He  wore  no  other  dress  than  the 
woollen  robes  which  the  queen  span  for  him.  They 
ontiie  had  agreed  to  pray  for  each  other  after  their  death  ; 

same  day.     ^|^^^  ^j^^  ^^  ^|_^^  same  day,  at  the  same  hour,  and  the 
13th  Au-       messengers,  who   left  at  once  the  St.  Croix  of  Poi- 

g-ust,  5S".  .  Ill-  •     I      1  -I   1  T        •  I      i*' 

tiers  and  the  cloister  inliabitcd  by  Junian, met  nail 
way  with  the  same  melancholy  news.^^^ 

Funeral  Gregory  of  Tours  celebrated   the  funeral  of  the 

and  will  of  holy  quecn,  and  tells  us  that  even  in  her  coffin  her 
°"^  ■  beauty  was  still  dazzling.  Around  this  coffin  the 
two  hundred  nuns  whom  she  had  drawn  from  the  world  to 
give  them  to  God,  chanted  a  kind  of  plaintive  eclogue,  in 
which  they  celebrated  the  virtues  of  their  abbess,  and  the 
love  with  which  she  inspired  them.     Then  when   Gregory 

137  u  Barbatorias  intus  eo  quod  celebraverit.   .  .  .  De  tabula  vero  respon 
dit,   et  si  lusisset   vivente  Domna  liadegundc.    .    .    .    De    conviviis    ait  se 
nullam    novara   fecisse    consuetudineni,    nisi   sieut   actuui   est   sub   Domna 
Eadegunde." — Greo.  Tuk.,  ffist.,  x.  245.     Compare  Magnin,  Journal  des 
Savants,  May  1860. 

13S  Venant.  Foutdnat.,  loc.  cit. 

'^'  "  Sub  B.  Benedicti  regula.  .  .  .  Tantas  charitatis  glutino  omnem  mon- 
achoruni  catervain  constrinxcrat.  .  .  .  Quem  S-  Radcgundis  sacrificiis  suid 
fovcbat.  .  .  .  Nee  aliud  tegminis  habuit,  nisi  quod  ab  ilia  conficiebatur.  .  .  . 
Sc'd  et  ilia  sanctissima  catenam  ferri  ab  illo  sanctissimo  viro  accepit.  .  .  . 
Declarat  mandatum  ut  statim  cum  a  sseculo  migrasset  nuntiaretur  B.  Rade- 
gundis."  —  WuLFiNDS  Episc,  Vit.  S-  Juniani,  ap.  Labbe,  Nov.  Bibl.  MS.,  t. 
ii.  p.  572.  This  Junian,  Abbot  of  Maire  in  Poitou,  must  not  be  confounded 
with  another  St.  Junian,  liermit,  after  whom  the  town  of  that  name  in  Li- 
mousin was  called.  Compare  Bolland.,  vol.  iii.  Aug.,  p.  32,  and  vol  vii 
Octobr  ,  p.  841. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  493 

conducted  the  body  to  the  grave,  where  the  sechision  pre- 
scribed by  the  rule  of  St.  Ccesarius  debarred  the  uuns  from 
following,  he  saw  them  press  to  the  windows,  and  to  the 
towers  and  battlements  of  the  monastery,  where  their  lamen- 
tations, tears,  and  the  wringing  of  their  hands,  rendered  a 
last  homage  to  their  royal  foundress.^^'^  Before  her  death 
she  had  made  a  kind  of  will,  in  which  she  took  no  title  but 
that  of  Radegund,  sinner,  and  in  which  she  put  her  dear  mon- 
astery under  the  charge  of  St.  Martin  and  St.  Hilary,  adjur- 
ing the  bishops  and  kings  to  treat  as  spoilers  and  persecutorg 
of  the  poor  all  who  should  attempt  to  disturb  the  community, 
to  change  its  rule,  or  dispossess  its  abbess. 

But  it  was  rather  from  internal  disorders  than  Tumuitsin 
outside  enemies  that  her  work  requirerl  to  be  pre-  themouas- 
served.  Even  in  her  own  lifetime  one  of  the  nuns  ^^^' 
had  escaped  over  the  wall  of  the  abbey,  and,  taking  refuge 
in  the  church  of  St.  Hilary,  had  poured  forth  a  hundred  cal- 
umnies against  the  abbess.  She  had  been  made  to  re-enter 
the  monastery,  hoisted  up  by  ropes,  at  the  same  part  of  the 
rampart  by  which  she  descended,  and  had  acknowledged  the 
falsehood  of  her  accusations  against  Agnes  and  Radegund.^^^ 

After  their  death  matters  were  still  worse.  Among   ^g^ou  ^f 
the  Frank  princesses  whom  she  had  led  or  received   tnenuns 
into  the  shadow  of  the  sanctuary  of  St.  Croix,  there   princesses 
were  two  who  retained  all  the  Barbarian  vehemence,   rovingiAn 
and  who,  far  from  profiting   by  the  example  of  the   ^^^^d. 
widow  of  Clotaire,  showed  themselves  only  too  faithful  to  the 
blood  of  their  grandsire.     These  were   Chrodield,  daughter 
of  King  Caribert,  and  the  unfortunate   Basine,  daughter  of 
King  Chilperic  and  Queen  Audovere,  whom  Fredegund,  her 
infamous  mother-in-law,  had  cast  into  the  cloister,  after  hav- 
ing had  her  dishonored  by  her  valets.i42     ^^  h^q  death  of  the 
abbess   Agnes,   who  soon  followed  her  benefactress  to   the 
grave,  Chrodield,  irritated  at  not  having  been  elected  in  her 
place,  formed  a  plot  against  the  new  abbess  Leubovere,  and 
left  the  monastery  with  her  cousin  and  forty  other   nuns, 
saying, ''  I  go  to  the  kings  my  relations  to  let  them  know  the 

•"^  "  Reperimus  earn  jacentem  in  feretro,  cujus  sancta  facies  ita  fnlgebat 
ut  liliorum  rosarumque  sperneret  pulchritudinem."  — Greg.  Turon.  "  Tran- 
seuntibus  nobis  sub  niuro,  iterum  caterva  virginum  per  fenestras  turrium  et 
ipsa  quoque  nmri  propugnacula  ...  ita  ut  inter  sonos  fletuuni  atqu3  con- 
lisiones  palmarura." — Z>e  Gloria  Confess.,  c.  106.  Compare  Magnin,  loc. 
cit. 

'■"  Greg.  Turon.,  Bist.  EccL,  lib.  x.  c.  40. 

»«  Ibid.,  lib.  V.  c.  40. 

VOL.  I.  42 


494  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

ignominy  which  has  been  inflicted  on  us,  for  we  have  been 
treated  here  not  like  the  daughters  of  kings,  but  like  the 
daughters  of  miserable  slaves."  Without  listening  to  the  re- 
monstrances of  the  bishops,  they  broke  the  locks  and  doors, 
and  went  on  foot  from  Poitiers  to  Tours,  where  +hey  arrived 
panting,  worn,  and  exhausted,  by  roads  flooded  by  the  great 
rains,  and  without  having  eaten  anything  on  the  road.  Chro- 
dield  presented  herself  to  Gregory  of  Tours,  who  read  to  the 
party  the  sentence  of  excommunication  pronounced  by  the 
Council  of  Tours  against  nuns  guilty  of  breaking  their  seclu- 
sion, entreated  them  not  to  destroy  thus  the  work  of  the  holy 
queen  Radegund,  and  offered  to  conduct  them  back  to  Poitiers. 
"  No,  no,"  said  Chrodield  ;  "  we  are  going  to  the  kings." 

Gregory  succeeded  in  persuading  them  to  wait  at  least 
for  the  summer.  The  fine  weather  having  come,  Chrodield 
left  hev  cousin  and  her  companions  at  Tours,  and  went  to 
her  uncle  Gontran,  King  of  Burgundy,  who  received  her 
well,  and  named  certain  bishops  to  investigate  the  quarrel. 
Returning  to  Tours,  she  found  that  several  of  the  fugitives 
had  allowed  themselves  to  be  seduced  and  married.  With 
those  that  remained  she  returned  to  Poitiers,  and  they  in- 
^  stalled  themselves  in  the  church  of  St.  Hilary  with 
lisii  theni  a  troop  of  robbors  and  bandits  to  defend  them,  say- 
the^abba  ing  always,  "  We  are  queens,  and  we  will  only  re- 
aadexiDoi'^'  ^^rn  to  the  monastery  when  the  abbess  is  expelled 
the  bishops  from  it."  The  metropolitan  of  Bordeaux  then  ap- 
peared with  the  Bishop  of  Poitiers  and  two  others 
of  hid  suS'ragans,  and,  upon  their  obstinate  refusal  to  return 
to  their  monastery,  excommunicated  them.  But  the  bandits 
whoxo  they  had  hired  for  their  defence  attacked  the  bishops, 
threw  them  down  upon  the  pavement  of  the  church,  and 
broke  the  heads  of  several  deacons  in  their  suite.  A  panic 
seized  the  episcopal  train:  every  man  saved  himself  as  he 
could.  Chrodield  afterwards  sent  her  followers  to  seize  the 
lands  of  the  monastery,  made  the  vassals  obey  her  by  dint  of 
blows,  and  threatened  always,  if  she  returned  to  the  monas- 
tery, to  throw  the  abbess  over  the  walls.  King  Childebert, 
the  Count  of  Poitou,  and  the  bishops  of  the  province  of  Ly- 
ons, interfered  in  turn  without  any  better  success.  This 
lasted  for  a  whole  year.  The  cold  of  winter  constrained  the 
rebels  to  separate,  for  they  had  no  other  shelter  than  the 
cimrch,  where  they  could  not  make  a  sufficient  fire  to  keep 
themselves  warm.^'^^ 

143  '<  Vado  ad  parentes  meos  reges  .  .  .  quia  non  ut  filiaB  reguri,  sed  ut 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  495 

Discords,  however,  arose  between  the  two  cous-  Njwrio- 
ills,  who  each  assumed  to  be  leader,  by  her  right  as  ''^"'=®- 
a  princes  of  the  blood  royal.  But  Chrodield  maintained  her 
supremacy  ;  she  took  advantage  of  it  to  adopt  still  more  vio- 
lent measures,  and  sent  her  troop  of  bandits  against  the  mon- 
astery. They  made  their  way  into  it  by  night,  with  arms  in 
their  hands,  forcing  the  doors  with  axes,  and  seized  the  ab- 
bess, who,  helpless  with  gout,  and  scarcely  able  to  walk, 
was  roused  by  the  noise  to  go  and  prostrate  herself  before 
the  shrine  which  enclosed  the  true  cross.  They  dragged 
I  er,  half  n;;ked,  to  the  church  of  St.  Hilary,  and  shut  her  up 
there,  in  the  portion  inhabited  by  Basine.  Chrodield  gave 
orders  to  poniard  her  upon  the  spot,  if  the  bishop  or  any  other 
person  endeavored  to  set  her  at  liberty.  After  this  she 
pillaged  her  ancient  monastery  from  top  to  bottom  ;  many 
nuns  were  wounded,  and  the  servants  faithful  to  the  abbess 
were  killed  upon  the  very  sepulchre  of  Radegund.  Basine, 
wounded  by  the  pride  of  her  cousin,  took  advantage  of  the 
neighborhood  of  the  captive  abbess  to  attempt  a  reconciliation 
with  her  ;  but  it  was  v/ithout  result. 

These  battles  and  murders  continued  at  a  still  greater  rate, 
until  tinally  the  kings  Gontran  of  Burgundy,  and  Childebert 
of  Austrasia,  uncle  and  cousin  of  the  tv>'o  principal  culprits, 
resolved  to  put  an  end  to  this  disgraceful  scandal.  They 
convoked  the  bishops  anew  ;  but  Gregory  of  Tours  declared 
that  they  could  on  no  account  assemble  till  sedition  had  been 
suppressed  by  the  secular  arm.  Then  the  Count  of  Poitiers, 
supported  apparently  by  the  entire  population  of  the  town, 
made  a  formal  attack  upon  the  basilica  built  by  Radegund, 
which  had  been  transformed  into  a  citadel.  It  was  in  vain 
that  Chrodield  ordered  a  sortie  of  her  satellites,  and  that, 
seeing  them  repulsed,  she  advanced  to  meet  the  besiegers, 
the  cross  in  her  hand,  crying,  "  Do  nothing  to  me,  for  I  am 
a  queen,  daughter  of  a  king,  cousin  and  niece  of  your  kings: 
do  nothing  to  me,  or  the  time  will  come  when  1  shall  avenge 
myself."  Her  person  was  respected.  But  her  bra-  Defeat  of 
voes  were  seized  and  executed  in  various  ways.  *'»^  rebels. 
Then  the  bishops  proceeded,  in  the  very  church  which  had 
been  thus  delivered,  to  sit  in  judgment  on  the  contest.     Chro- 

iiialaruni  ancillarurn  genitae  in  hoc  loco  huiniliamur.  .  .  .  Pedestri  itinere  .  .  . 
anhelae  et  satis  exiguse.  .  .  .  Ncquaquam,  sed  ad  reges  ibinius.  .  .  .  Quia 
regir.ae  sumus,  nee  prius  in  monasterium  nostrum  ingrediemur,  nisi  abbatissa 
ejiciatur  foras.  .  .  .  Cum  etfractis  capitibus.  .  .  .  JMinans  ut  .  .  .  abbatis- 
sam  de  muro  projectam  terrae  dejieeret.  .  .  .  Propter  penuriam  iigni  ..." 
—  GaiiG.  TuiiON.,  Mist.  Eccl.,  lib.  ix.  c.  39,  43. 


49G  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

dield,  v/ho  was  not  cast  down  by  her  defeat,  constituted  her- 
self" the  accuser  of  the  abbess  ;  she  reproached  this  poor  bed- 
ridden gouty  woman  with  having  a  man  in  her  service  dressed 
like  8  woman,  with  playing  dice,  eating  with  secular  persons, 
and  other  still  less  serious  imputations.  She  complained  at 
the  same  time  that  she  and  her  companions  had  neither  food 
nor  clothing,  and  that  they  had  been  beaten.  The  abbess 
defended  herself  without  difficulty  ;  the  two  princesses  were 
obliged  to  confess  that  they  had  no  capital  crime,  such  as 
homicide  or  adultery,  to  allege  against  her  ;  whilst  the  bish- 
ops reminded  them  that  some  of  the  nuns  of  their  own  part}'' 
had  fallen  into  sin,  in  consequence  of  the  disorder  into  which 
their  leaders  had  plunged  them.  Notwithstanding,  they  re- 
fused to  ask  pardon  of  the  abbess  —  threatened  loudly,  on 
the  contrary,  to  kill  her.i*^  'Pd^  bishops  then  declared  them 
excommunicated,  and  re-established  the  abbess  in  the  monas- 
tery of  which  she  had  been  deprived.  Even  then  the  rebel 
princesses  did  not  submit:  they  went  to  their  cousin.  King 
Childobert,  and  denounced  the  abbess  to  him  as  sending  daily 
messages  to  his  enemy  Fredegund.  He  was  weak  enough 
to  recommend  his  cousins  to  the  bishops  who  were  about  to 
meet  for  a  new  council  at  Metz.  But  there  Basine  finally 
separated  from  her  cousin;  she  threw  herself  at  the  feet  of 
the  bishops,  asked  their  pardon,  and  promised  to  return  to 
St.  Croix  of  Poitiers,  to  live  there  according  to  the  rule. 
Chrodield,  on  the  contrary,  declared  that  she  would  never  set 
foot  in  it  while  the  abbess  remained  there  ;  and  the  result 
was,  that  they  permitted  her  to  live  near  Poitiers  on  an  estate 
given  her  b}''  the  king. 

This  confused  contrast  of  so  many  crimes  and  so  many  vir- 
tues ;  these  monks,  whose  charity  to  their  neighbor  was  only 
equalled  by  their  severity  to  themselves,,  and  these  bandits 
commanded  by  debauched  nuns  ;  these  daughters  of  Frank 
and  German  kings,  some  transfigured  by  faith  and  poetry, 
while  others  were  suffering  or  inflicting  the  most  infamous 
outrages;  these  kings  by  turns  ferocious  and  amiable  ;  this 
great  bishop  standing  near  the  tomb  of  his  immortal  prede- 
cessor, and  preaching  order  and  peace  to  all ;  these  murders 
and  yacrileges  face  to  face  with  the  impassioned  worship  of 

*'■•  "  Statim  cum  gladio  percute.  .  .  .  Nolite  super  me,  quasso,  vim  inferre, 
quaj  suui  regina,  filia  regis,  regisque  altenus  consobrina.  .  .  .  Seel  vulgus 
parvipendens.  .  .  .  Contra  coniitem  et  plebem.  .  .  .  Quas  credebamus  in- 
nocentes  monachas  nobis  protulerunt  prsegnantes.  .  .  .  De  ejus  interfeotione 
tractarent,  quod  publice  sunt  professae."  —  Gkeg.  Tueon.,  HisU  Eccl.,\\h. 
X.  c.  16. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  497 

the  mo^t  venerable  relics  ;  the  boldness  and  long  impunity 
of  crime  side  by  side  with  so  many  prodigies  of  fervor  and 
austerity  ;  in  a  word,  this  mingled  crowd  of  saints  and  vil- 
lains, offers  the  most  faithful  picture  of  the  long  combat  waged 
by  Christian  dignity  and  Christian  virtue  against  the  violence 
of  the  Barbarians,  and  the  vices  of  the  Gallo-Romans  ener- 
vated by  long  subjection  to  despotism.  Monks  and  nuns 
were  the  heroes  and  instruments  of  that  struggle.  It  lasted 
for  two  centuries  longer  before  it  gave  way  to  the  luminous 
and  powerful  age  of  the  first  Carlovingians,  and  was  renewed 
at  a  later  period  under  new  forms  and  against  new  assailants. 

In  the  same  year  which  saw  all  Gaul  south  of  the  Loire 
disturbed  by  this  scandal,  the  famous  monastery  of  Luxeuil, 
founded  bj'  a  Celtic  missionary,  St.  Columba,  and  destined 
to  become  for  a  time  the  monastic  metropolis  of  the  Frank 
dominions,  came  into  being  at  the  other  extremity  of  the 
country,  at  the  foot  of  the  Vosges,  between  the  Rhone  and 
the  Rhine.  Here  we  must  hereafter  seek  the  centre  of  mon- 
astic life  in  Gaul,  and  study  the  action  of  the  monks  upon  the 
kingdom  and  people  of  the  Franks. 


V.  —  THE  MONKS  AND  NATURE. 

The  Lord  shall  comfort  Zion :  he  will  comfort  all  her  waste  places ;  and  he  will  make  her 
wilderness  like  Eden,  and  her  desert  like  the  garden  of  the  Lord;  joy  and  gladness 
shall  be  found  therein,  thanksgiving,  and  the  voice  of  melody.  —  IsA.  li.  3. 

But  before  we  study  the  action  of  the  great  Celtic  mis- 
sionary upon  the  kingdom  and  people  of  the  Franks,  it  is  im- 
portant to  observe  one  of  the  distinct  characteristics  of  the 
monastic  occupation  of  Gaul.  We  should  greatly  deceive 
ourselves  did  we  suppose  that  the  monks  chose  the  Gallo- 
Roman  cities  or  populous  towns  for  their  principal  establish- 
ments. Episcopal  cities  like  Poitiers,  Aries,  or  Paris,  were 
not  the  places  which  they  preferred,  nor  in  which  they 
abounded  most.  They  were  almost  always  to  be  found  there, 
thanks  to  the  zeal  of  the  bishops  who  sought  and  drew  them 
to  their  neighborhood.  But  their  own  proper  impulse,  their 
natural  instinct,  1  know  not  what  current  of  ideas  always 
swaying  them,  led  them  far  from  towns,  and  even  from  the 
fertile  and  inhabited  rural  districts,  towards  the  forests  and 
deserts  which  then  covered  the  greater  part  of  the  soil  of 
our  country. 

They  look  special  delight  in  such  situations,  where  we 
42* 


498  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

behold  them  in  close  conflict  with  nature,  with  all  her  obstsu 
cles  and  dangers;  and  where  we  find  all  that  exuberant 
vigor  and  life  which  everywhere  distinguishes  the  spring- 
time of  monastic  institutions,  and  which  for  two  ce^.tnries 
renewed  a  kind  of  Thebaid  in  the  forests  of  Gauh 

However,  between  that  sombre  and  wild  nature  of  Europe, 
transferred  from  the  oppressing  grasp  of  Rome  to  that  of  the 
Barbarians,  and  the  unwearied  activity  of  the  solitaries  and 
religious  communities,  there  was  less  a  laborious  struggle 
than  an  intimate  and  instinctive  alliance,  the  warm  and  poetic 
reflection  of  which  animates  many  a  page  of  the  monastic 
annals.  Nothing  can  be  more  attractive  than  this  moral  and 
material  sympathy  between  monastic  life  and  the  life  of  na- 
ture. To  him  who  would  devote  sufficient  leisure  and  atten 
tion  to  it,  there  is  here  a  delightful  field  of  study  which  might 
fill  a  whole  life.  We  may  be  pardoned  for  lingering  a  mo- 
ment on  this  fascinating  subject,  confining  ourselves,  how- 
ever, to  so  much  only  as  concerns  the  monks  of  Gaul  in  the 
sixth  and  seventh  centuries. 

When  the  disciples  of  St.  Benedict  and  St.  Columba  came 
to  settle  in  Gaul,  most  of  its  provinces  bore  an  aspect  sadly 
Spread  of  similar.  Roman  tyranny  and  taxation  in  the  first 
desolation,  place,  and  then  the  ravages  of  the  Barbarian  inva- 
sions, had  changed  entire  countries  into  desert  and  solitary 
places.  That  pagus  which,  in  the  time  of  Ceesar,  had  fur- 
nished thousands  of  soldiers  against  the  common  enemy,  now 
showed  only  some  few  inhabitants  scattered  over  a  country 
allowed  to  run  waste,  where  a  spontaneous  and  savage  veg- 
etation disputed  all  attempts  at  culture,  and  gradually  trans- 
formed the  land  into  forests.  These  new  forests  extended 
by  degrees  to  the  immense  clumps  of  dark  and  impenetrable 
wood,  which  had  always  covered  an  important  part  of  the 
soil  of  Gaul.i*^  Qqq  example,  among  a  thousand,  will  prove 
the  advance  of  desolation.  Upon  the  right  bank  of  the  Loire, 
five  leagues  below  Orleans,  in  that  district  which  is  now  the 
St  Liephard  garden  of  France,  the  Gallo-Roman  castrum  of  Mag- 
at  Meung-  duuum,  which  occupicd  the  site  of  the  existing  town 
Bui-^ie.  ^^  Meung,  had  completely  disappeared  under  the 
^  ^         woods,  when  the  monk  Liephard  directed  his  steps 

'■»*  This  question  has  been  exquisitely  treated  by  M.  Alfred  Maury,  in  his 
great  work  entitled  Les  Forets  de  la  France  dans  VAntiquite  et  au  Motjen  Age, 
inserted  in  vol.  iv.  of  the  memoirs  presented  to  the  Academy  for  Inscriptions 
and  Belles-Lettres.  I  owe  to  him  several  of  the  details  and  quotationa 
wJiich  follow. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  49& 

there,  accompanied  by  a  single  disciple,  in  the  sixth  century; 
in  place  of  the  numerous  inhabitants  ot  former  times,  there 
stood  only  trees,  the  interlaced  branches  and  ti'unks  of  which 
formed  a  sort  of  impenetrable  barrier.^**^  And  thus  also  Co- 
lumba  found  nothing  but  idols  abandoned  in  the  midst  of  the 
wood,  upon  that  site  of  Luxeuil  which  had  formerly  been 
occupied  by  the  temples  and  the  baths  of  the  Romans.^*' 

These  famous  Druidical  forests  in  which  the  sacri- 
fices of  the  ancient  Gauls  were  celebrated,  and  ecTwiuTor 
which  were  consecrated  by  the  worship  of  old  trees,  tnl'^'fiairto 
so  universally  practised  by  all  pagan  antiquity  from  ti'e  soveata 
the  banks  of  the  Ganges  to  those  of  the  Tiber  ; 
these  eternal  shades  which  inspired  the  Romans  with  super- 
stitious tei-ror,  had  not  only  preserved  but  even  extended, 
their  formidable  empire.  The  fidelity  of  the  picture  drawn 
by  the  singer  of  Pharsalia  was  more  than  ever  apparent  after 
six  centuries  had  passed : — 

"Lucus  erat  longo  nnnquam  violatus  ab  aevo, 
Obscurum  cingens  connexis  aera  ramis, 
Et  gelidas  alte  submotis  solibus  umbras. 
Hunc  non  ruricolfe  Panes,  neinorumque  potentes 
Silvani,  Nymphseque  tenent,  sed  barbara  ritu 
Sacra  Deum,  stiuctae  diris  altaribus  arae  .  .  . 
Arboribus  suus  horror  inest."  '*^ 

Where  there  had  not  been  sufficient  time  to  produce  these 
immense  forest-trees  whose  tops  seem  to  reach  the  clouds/*^ 
or  these  woodland  giants  which  testified  to  the  antiquity  of 
primitive  forests,  cultivation  and  population  had  not  the 
less  disappeared  before  a  lower  growth  of  wood.  Certainly 
magnificent  pines,  such  as  those  that  crown  the  heights  of 
the   Yosges  and   the   sides  of  the  Alps,  or  oaks,  the  fallen 

146  '<Estautem  mens  in  Aurelianensi  pago  .  .  .  in  quo  ab  antiquis  cas- 
trum  fuerat  aedificatuin,  quod  criideli  Wandalorumvastatione ad  solum  usque 
dirutum  est.  Nemine  auteni  renianente  habitatore,  memoribits  hinc  inde  sue- 
crescentibiis,  locus  idem  qui  claris  hominum  conventibus  quondam  replebatur, 
in  densissimam  redactus  est  8olitudincm.  Cujus  abstrusa  latibula  venerabilis 
Liephardus  petiit."  —  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  i.  p.  145.  Compare  the  following 
passage  in  the  life  of  St.  Laumer :  "  Secessit  in  locum  quem  olim  priscorum 
habitatorum  nianus  extruxerat,  sed  jam  vastitas  succrescentium  frondium  et 
totum  obduxerat."  —  Ibid.,  p.  325. 

147  "Ibi  imaginuni  lapidearum  densitas  vicina  saltus  densabat." — Jonas, 
Vit.  St.  Columbani. 

"^  LucAN.,  Pharsal.,  lib.  iii.  399. 

149  ((  Erat  silva  longum  nnnquam  violata  per  avum,  cujus  arborum  summi- 
tas  pene  nubes  pulsabat."  —  Vit.  S.  Seqvani,  c.  7.  The  words  underlined 
show  that  the  monastic  writer  of  the  seventh  century  knew  his  Lucan  by 
heart. 


500  TPIE  MONKS  UNDER 

trunks  of  which  couhl  scarcely  be  moved  by  forty  men,  IiK:e 
that  which  the  Abbot  Launomar  cut  down  in  the  vast  forest 
of  Percho,  were  not  to  be  seen  everywhere;  ^^  but  the  fertile 
soil  was  everywhere  usurped  by  copsewood,  where  tlie 
maple,  the  birch,  the  aspen,  and  the  witch-elm,  prepared  the 
ground  for.  a  more  imposing  growth  of  trees,  and,  still  worse, 
by  thickets  of  thorn  and  brambles  of  formidable  extent  and 
depth,  wliich  arrested  the  steps  and  tortured  the  limbs  of  the 
unfortunates  who  ventured  there, ^-^^  These  intermediate 
regions  between  the  great  forests  and  the  fields,  between  the 
mountains  and  the  cultivated  plains,  were  with  too  much 
justi(^e  entitled  c^eserfs,  because  the  population  had  abandoned 
them  till  the  monks  brought  back  fertility  and  life.  In  the 
northern  part  of  the  country,  occupied  by  the  Burgundians, 
on  the  north  of  the  Rhone  alone,  six  great  deserts  existed  at 
Tiie  desert  the  end  of  the  sixth  century,  —  the  desert  of  Reome, 
ofGaui.  between  Tounerre  and  Montbard  ;  the  desert  of 
Morvan  ;  the  desert  of  Jura;  the  desert  of  the  Vosges,  where 
Luxeuil  and  Lure  were  about  to  have  birth  ;  the  desert  of 
Switzerland,  between  Bienne  and  Lucerne ;  and  the  desert 
of  Gruyere,  between  the  Savine  and  the  Aar.^^^  Indeed,  the 
whole  extent  of  Switzerland  and  Savoy  was  little  else  than  a 
vast  forest,  the  name  of  wliich  alone  remains,  applied  in 
French  to  the  canton  of  Vaud  {Pagus  Waldensis)  and  in  Ger- 
man to  the  four  primitive  cantons  of  Lucerne,  Schwitz,  Uri, 
and  Unterwald  {Die  Waldstjtten),  where  a  border  of  impene- 
trable wood  surrounded  tlie  beautiful  lake  which  unites 
them.^^^  Advancing  towards  the  north,  the  wooded  regions 
became  more  and  more  profound  and  extensive.  Even  in  the 
provinces  least  depopulated  and  best  cultivated,  through  the 
most  favorable  soils  and  climates,  long  wooded  lines  extended 
from  north  to  south,  and  from  the  rising  to  the  setting  sun, 
connecting  the  great  masses  of  forest  with  each  other,  sur- 

130  '("Vasta  tractus  Perticae  solitudines.  .  .  .  Annosain  quercum.  ,  ,  .  Ini- 
niensse  molis.  .  .  .  Tanti  ponderis  ut  vix  a  quadniginta  viris  portaretur."  — 
Act.  SS.  0,  S.  B.,  t.  i.  pp.  318,  324. 

'*'  SpincB  et  vepres :  In  almost  every  life  of  the  holy  founders  of  monas- 
teries we  find  mention  of  these  vegetiil)le  enemies.  Thence  also  the  names 
of  se\eral  abbeys,  Roncereium,  the  Konceray,  at  Angers;  Spinetiim,  after- 
wards Boheries;  Spinosv.s  locus,  Espinlieu ;  S2nnaliii7n,  E]ihvdl,  and  other 
locnl  names  which  are  to  be  found  in  almost  n\\  onr  prov'mces  :  L' Epine, 
L' Espinay ,  La  Ronciere,  Le  Roncier,  La  Ronceraye. 

''*  See  the  excellent  map  of  the  first  kingdom  of  Burgundy,  by  Baron 
Rog(t  de  Belloguet,  ap.  Memoires  de  VAcad.  de  Dijon,  1847-48,  p.  313, 

^'■"^  Wald  in  German  means  at  the  same  iime  forest  and  mountain  ;  it  is  the 
ialtus  of  the  Latins.     See  Madrt,  op.  cit. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVIISGIANS.  501 

rounding  and  enveloping  Gaul  as  in  a  vast  network  ol  shade 
and  silence. 

We  must  then  imagine  Gaul  and  all  the  neighboring  coun- 
tries, the  whole  extent  of  France,  Switzerland,  Belgium,  and 
both  banks  of  the  Rhine  —  that  is  to  say,  the  richest  and  most 
populous  countries  of  modern  Europe  —  covered  with  forests 
such  as  are  scarcely  to  be  seen  in  America,  and  of  which 
there  does  not  remain  the  slightest  trace  in  the  ancient  world. 
We  must  figure  to  ourselves  these  masses  of  sombre  and  im- 
penetrable wood,  covering  hills  and  valleys,  the  high  table- 
land as  well  as  the  marshy  bottoms;  descending  to  the  banks 
of  the  great  rivers,  and  even  to  the  sea ;  broken  here  and 
there  by  watercourses  which  laboriously  forced  a  way  for 
themselves  across  the  roots  and  fallen  trees ;  perpetually 
divided  by  bogs  and  marshes,  which  swallowed  up  the 
animals  or  men  who  were  so  ill-advised  as  to  risk  themselves 
there ;  and  inhabited  by  innumerable  wild  beasts,  whose 
ferocity  had  scarcely  been  accustomed  to  fly  before  man,  and 
of  which  man}^  different  species  have  since  almost  completely 
disappeared  from  our  country. 

To  plunge  into  these  terrible  forests,  to  encoun-  -^,5  ,TjoQijg 
ter  these  monstrous  animals,  the  tradition  of  which  i."  the 
remains  everywhere,  and  whose  bones  are  still  some- 
times exhumed,  required  a  courage  of  which  nothing  in  the 
existing  world  can  give  us  an  idea.  In  all  that  now  remains 
to  be  conquered  of  American  forests  and  deserts,  the  modern 
adventurer  penetrates  armed  with  all  the  inventions  of  in- 
dustry and  mechanical  art,  provided  with  all  the  resources  of 
modern  life,  sustained  by  the  certainty  of  success,  by  the 
consciousness  of  progress,  and  urged  forward  by  the  immense 
pressure  of  civilization  which  follows  and  sustains  him.  But 
at  that  time  no  such  help  came  to  the  monk,  who  attacked 
these  gloomy  woods  without  arms,  without  sufficient  imple- 
ments, and  often  without  a  single  companion.  He  came  out 
of  a  desolated,  decrepid,  and  powerless  old  world,  to  plunge 
into  the  unknown.  But  he  bore  with  him  a  strength  which 
nothing  has  ever  surpassed  or  equalled,  the  strength  conferred 
by  faith  in  a  living  God,  the  protector  and  rewarder  of  in- 
nocence, by  contempt  of  all  material  joy,  and  by  an  exclusive 
devotion  to  the  spiritual  and  future  life.  He  thus  advanced, 
undaunted  and  serene  :  and  often  without  thinking  what  ho 
did,  opened  a  road  to  all  the  benefits  of  agriculture,  labor,  and 
Christian  civilization. 

See,  then,  these  men  of  prayer  and  penitence,  who  were  at 


502  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

the  same  time  the  bold  pioneers  of  Christian  civilization  and 
the  modern  world  ;  behold  them  taming  that  world  of  wild  and 
savage  nature  in  a  thousand  different  places.  They  plunged 
into  the  darkness  carrying  light  with  them,  a  light  which  was 
never  more  to  be  extinguished  ;  and  this  light,  advancing  step 
by  step,  lighted  everywhere  those  home-fires  which  were  so 
many  beacons  upon  the  way  to  heaven,  —  "from  glory  to 
glory,"  1^  and  which  were  to  be  centres  of  life  and  blessing 
for  the  people  whom  they  instructed  and  edified :  "  In  thy 
light  shall  we  see  light."  ^^^ 

They  entered  there,  sometimes  axe  in  hand,  at  the  head 
of  a  troop  of  believers  scarcely  converted,  or  of  pagans  sur- 
prised and  indignant,  to  cut  down  the  sacred  trees,  and  thus 
root  out  the  popular  superstition.  But  still  more  frequently 
they  reached  these  solitudes  with  one  or  two  disciples  at  the 
most,  seeking  some  distant  and  solitary  retreat,  out  of  the  way 
of  men,  where  they  might  be  allowed  to  devote  themselves 
entirely  to  God. 

No  obstacle  nor  danger  arrested  them.  The  more  awful 
the  profound  darkness  of  the  forest,  the  more  were  they  at- 
tracted to  it.^^  When  the  only  paths  were  so  tortuous,  nar- 
row, and  bristling  with  thorns,  that  it  was  impossible  to  move 
without  tearing  their  clothes,  and  they  could  scarcely  plant 
one  foot  after  another  in  tlie  same  line,  they  ventured  on 
without  hesitation.  If  they  had  to  creep  under  the  interlaced 
branches  to  discover  some  narrow  and  gloomy  cavern  ob- 
structed by  stones  and  briers,  they  were  ready  to  do  it.  It 
St.  Seine  in  was  whcu  approaching,  on  his  knees,  such  a  retreat, 
Burgundy,     wliich  tlio  bcasts  of  the  forest  themselves  feared  to 

580.  enter,  that  the  Burgundian  priest  Sequanus  ad- 
dressed this  prayer  to  God  :  "  Lord,  who  hast  made  heaven 
and  earth,  who  hearest  the  prayers  of  him  who  comes  to  thee, 
from  whom  everything  good  proceeds,  and  without  whom  all 
the  efforts  of  human  weakness  are  vain,  if  tho"u  ordainest  me 
to  establish  myself  in  this  solitude,  make  it  known  to  me,  and 
lead  to  a  good  issue  the  beginning  which  thou  hast  already 
granted  to  my  devotion."  Then,  feeling  himself  inspired  and 
consoled  by  his  prayer,  he  commenced  at  that  verj^  spot  the 
cell  in  which  originated  the  abbey  and  existing  town  of  St. 
Seine. ^^^ 

'*^  2  Corinth,  iii.  18.  '^°  Ps.  xxxvi.  9. 

io6  44  jnter  opucii  quseque  neinorum  et  lustra  abditissima  ferarum." —  Vita 
S.  Karilefi.  c.  9. 

'°'  "  Callis  quidani  nrtu():^iis  ...  taiitutn  any^ustus,  atque  sentuosus,  ut 
.  .  .  vix  pedeni   pes   sequerL-tur,  impedienie  densitaie  ramorum  .  .  .  vesti- 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  503 

Where  a  natural  cavern  was  wanting,  they  constructed 
some  shelter,  a  hut  of  branches  or  reeds  ;  ^^^  and  if  there  were 
Beveral,  an  oratory  with  a  little  cloister.  Sometimes  they 
hollowed  out  a  cell  in  the  rock,  where  the  bed,  the  seat,  and 
the  table  were  all  cut  of  the  living  stone.  Sometimes  (like 
St.  Calais  in  a  desert  of  Maine)  meeting  in  the  depth  of  the 
wood  the  remains  of  some  ancient  forsaken  buildings,  they 
transformed  them  into  cells  and  chapels,  by  means  of  branches 
woven  between  the  fragments  of  ruined  wall.^^^ 

When  the  course  of  the  liturgy  led  them  to  that  magnifi- 
cent enumeration  of  the  victories  of  patriarchal  faith,  made 
b}^  St.  Paul  in  his  epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  in  which  he 
represents  Abraham  waiting  with  confidence  in  the  tents  of 
exile  for  the  eternal  city,  whose  maker  and  builder  was  God,^^^'^ 
they  might  have  applied  to  themselves  that  sacred  text, 
"Dwelling  in  tabernacles."  They  might  well  say  that  their 
dwelling  places  were  the  tabernacles,  that  is  to  suy,  the  tents, 
the  cells  of  exile.  At  night,  lying  upon  their  stone  pallets, 
and  during  the  day  protected  against  every  interruption  by 
the  thick  foliage  and  inaccessible  passes,  they  gave  them- 
selves up  to  the  delights  of  prayer  and  contemplation,  to 
visions  of  a  future  life  in  heaven. 

Sometimes,  also,  the  future  destiny  of  those  great  works, 
of  which   unawares   they  sowed  the  seed,  was  instinctively 
revealed  to  their  thoughts.     St.  Imier  heard  the  bells  of  the 
monastery  which  was  one  day  to  replace  his  hermi-      gt.imier 
tao'e  echoing:  through  the  night.     "  Dear  brother,"      ""d 
he  said  to  his  only  companion,  "  dost  thou  hear  that        — 
distant  bell  that  has  already  waked  me  three  times  ?  "         ''^^" 
"  No,"  said  the  servant.    But  Imier  rose,  and  allowed  himself 
to    be    guided    by  this   mysterious    sound   across   the    high 

iQoritorum  discerptione.  .  .  .  Tunc  se  curvantes  solo  tenus.  .  .  .  Ita  impli- 
citas  inter  se  ramoruni  frondes  .  .  .  ut  ipsius  etiam  ferae  formidarent  acces- 
suni.  .  .  .  Ad  squalidam  silvam.  .  .  .  Extemplo  parvae  cellulae  in  quo  loco 
genua  ad  orationem  fixerat  fundamenta  molitus  est."  —  Vii.  S.  Sequani,  c. 
7,  8.  ap.  Act.  S.  O.  SS.  B.,  t.  i. 

158  "Tugurio  frondibus  contexto."  —  Vita  S.  Laiinom.,  c.  7.  "  Cellulam 
sibi  virgis  contexens." —  Vita  S.  Lifardi,  c.  3.  "  De  virgultis  et  frondibus 
constriixere  tngurium.  Quod  claustro  parvulo  ejusdem  matei'ife  circumcin- 
gontes." —  Vita  S.  Ebrulji,  c   8. 

159  ii  jj^  altitudine  eremi.  .  .  .  Reperit  .  .  .  parietes  vetusti  aedificii  acnio 
labentes,  dignitatem  taraen  pristinam  ipsius  operis  vestigiis  protestantes.  .  .  . 
Cellulam  intra  parietinas  supradicti  aedificii  vimine  lento  contexit." — Vita 
S.  Karilefi,  c.  ii. 

160  u  Dwelling  in  tabernacles  with  Isaac  and  Jacob,  the  heirs  with  him  of 
the  same  promise :  for  he  looked  for  a  citj'  which  hatli  foundations,  whose 
builder  and  maker  is  God."  —  Hebr.  xi.  9,  10. 


504  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

plateau  and  narrow  gorges  of  the  valley  of  Doubs,  as  far  as 
the  gushing  fountain,  where  he  established  himself,  and 
which  has  retained  his  name  to  the  present  time.i^^  Else- 
e^  T    •        where  in  that  Limousin,  which   was    so   celebrated 

St.  J  nil  1  an        ,.  ,  T  .  (.  .  ,..-,. 

in  i,imou-  for  the  number  and  austerity  oi  its  solitaries,  J unian, 
the  son  of  a  companion  of  Clovis,  abandoned  every- 
thing at  the  age  of  fifteen,  to  take  shelter  in  an  unknown  cell 
on  the  banks  of  the  Vienne :  he  left  it  only  to  pray  in  tho 
dej)ths  of  the  wood  in  the  shade  of  a  great  hawthorn-tree. 
Under  this  blossomed  tree  they  buried  him  after  forty  years 
of  that  holy  and  wild  life,  and  the  hawthorn  disappeared  only 
to  make  room  for  a  monastery,  which  was  the  origin  of  the 
existing  town  of  St.  Junian.^^^ 

The  principal  aim  of  all  these  monks  was  not  to  form  com- 
munities in  tlie  forests.  They  sought  only  solitude  there ; 
they  would  rather  have  lived  as  anchorites  than  as  cenobites. 
Some,  and  a  great  number,  after  having  founded  or  lived  in 
monasteries,  according  to  the  rule  of  the  life  in  common, 
aspired  to  a  more  perfect  existence,  and  to  end  their  career 
as  St.  Benedict  had  begun  his,  in  some  cavern  unknown  to 
men.  St.  Benedict  himself  had  inscribed  at  the  head  of  his 
Rule  that,  to  be  a  good  anchorite,  it  was  uecessaiy  first  to 
have  learned  how  to  strive  against  the  devil  under  the  com- 
mon rule  and  with  the  help  of  the  brethren:  this  was,  ac- 
cording to  him,  an  apprenticeship  necessary  before  engaging 
in  what  he  calls  single  combat  against  the  temptations  of  the 
flesh  and  the  thoughts. ^^^  Others  still  more  numerous  yield- 
ed to  the  overpowering  attraction  which  led  them  to  tho 
depths  of  the  forests,  not  only  to  escape  from  the  discus- 
sions, violences,  and  cruel  wars,  of  which  every  Christian  of 

161  "  Per  novem  annos  breve  illud  quod  quievit  super  rupes  jacuit.  .  .  • 
Cuhnen  mentis  ascendit.  .  .  .  Per  sonitum  campanas,  .  .  .  Audisne,  mi 
frater,  signuiu  quod  ego  audio?  Nequaquam."  —  Breviar.  MS.  de  la  Bibl. 
de  Berne,  ap.  Tkouillat,  Monuments  de  V Eveche  de  Bale,  i.  37.  Tlie  town 
of  St.  Iniier  is  at  the  present  time  one  of  the  most  flourishing  centres  of 
watchmaking  in  the  Bernois  Jura. 

162  11  £,^  quodam  ipsius  silvae  cacumine  .  .  .  subter  quamdam  arborem 
quse  spina  dicitur,  et  in  vulgari  nostro  aubespi  nuncupatur."  — Maleu.  Chron. 
Comndoliacanse,  p.  14,  ed.  Arbellot.  1848.  Compare  Greg.  Tur.,  De  Glor. 
Confess.,  c.  103.  We  have  already  distinguished  this  St.  Junian  from  an- 
other .saint  of  tlie  same  name,  abbot  of  Maire  in  Poitou,  and  friend  of  Rade- 
gund.     See  p.  492. 

163  a  Qyj  j^yj^  conversionis  fervore  novitio,  sed  monasterii  probatione  diu- 
turna,  didicerunt  contra  diabolum,  multorum  solatio  jam  docti,  pugnare ;  et 
b^'ne  instruct!  fraterna  ex  acie  ad  singularem  pugnam  eremi,  seeuri  jam  sine 
consolatione  alterius,  sola  manu  vel  brachio  contra  vitia  carnis  vol  cogita- 
tionnm,  Deo  auxiliante,  sufliciunt  pugnare."  —  Reg.,  c.  i. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVIlNGIANS.  505 

that  period  was  the  witnei^s  and  too  often  the  victim,  but  to 
flee  from  contact  with  other  men,  and  to  enjoy  silence,  peace, 
and  freedom. 

This,  however,  was  a  vain  hope-  Their  solitude  soon  in- 
spired too  much  envy,  and  their  austerit}'  to  much  admi- 
ration, to  be  long  respected.  Happy  were  they  who  1  card 
only  the  cries  of  the  wild  beasts  echoing  round  their  cells:  — 

"  Nunc  cxoriri  gemitus  irteque  leonum 

Vincla  reciisantiini,  et  sera  sub  nocte  rudentum 
■   Ssevire,  ac  forinaj  magnorum  ululare  luporuni." 

Often,  in  fact,  when  tliey  celebrated  the  nocturnal  ser- 
vice in  their  chapels,  thatched  with  green  leaves  or  rushes, 
the  howls  of  tlie  wolves  accompanied  their  voices,  and  served 
as  a  response  to  the  psalmody  of  their  matins. ^^^^  But  they 
feared  much  more  the  step  and  voice  of  men.  Sometimes  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  the  voluntary  exile,  who  had  hid 
himself  here  in  the  hope  of  remaining  forever  forgotten  or 
unknown,  hears  some  one  knock  at  the  door  of  his  hut.  It 
is  at  first  only  a  reverential  and  timid  tap  ;  he  is  silent,  think- 
ing it  a  temptation  of  the  devil.  It  continues:  he  opens  and 
asks,  "  What  would  yon  with  me?  Why  do  you  pursue  me 
into  my  solitary  dwelling?  Who  are  j^ou?"  He  is  an- 
swered, '•  A  poor  sinner,  or  a  young  Christian,  or  an  old 
priest  weary  of  the  world."  ^^^  "  But  what  would  you  with 
me?  "  "  Be  saved  like  you,  and  with  you  :  learn  from  you 
the  way  of  peace  and  of  the  kingdom  of  God."  This  unex- 
pected and  undesired  guest  must  be  admitted.  The  next 
morning,  or  the  next  again,  comes  another ;  and  they  are  fol- 
lowed by  others  still.  The  anchorites  saw  themselves  thus 
changed  into  cenobites,  and  monastic  life  establish'*,]  itself 
involuntarily  and  unexpectedly  amid  the  most  distant  forests. 

Besides,  it  was  vain  to  flee  from  solitude  to  soli- 
tude ;  they  were  pursued,  seized  upon,  surrounded,   ritesofthe 
and  importuned   incessantly,  not  only   by  disciples  trausibrm- 
ambitious  of  living,  like  them,  in  silence  and  prayer,   ^^^^'J^J^gg 
but    by    the    surrounding    populations  themselves,   against 
Reassured  and   trustful,  growing  familiar  in  their     ^®"'^'  • 

164  II  jj,  pi-iniis  ibidem  construxit  oratorium  de  virgultis.  .  .  .  Frequenter 
contigit,  sicut  ipse  nobis  referre  solebat,  quod  nocturnis  temporibus,  dum  in 
capella  virgea  niatutinos  cantaliat,  lupus  e  contra  de  foris  stabat,  et  quasi 
psallenti  munuurando  respondebat."  —  Order  Vital.,  lib.  iii.  p.  132,  ed. 
Leprevost. 

165  "  j'ores  ipsius  cellulae  lento  et  suavi  ictu  rcverenter  pulsare  ccepit. 
.  .  .  Putans  pulsationem  hujusmodi  ex  illusioue  daemoniaca  processisse."  — 
Chron.  Comviod.,  lib.  c. 

VOL.  I.  43 


O06  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

turn  with  the  gloomy  arches,  where  these  men  of  peace  and 
bussing,  of  labor  and  charity,  had  gone  before  them,  thev 
ft)llowed  in  their  track;  and  when  they  had  discovered  the 
hermits,  kept  up  a  continued  assault,  some  bringing  offer- 
ings, others  asking  ahns,  prayers,  or  advice,  all  seeking  the 
Concourse  ^urc  of  all  the  troubles  both  of  soul  and  body."  The 
uttTUted  ^''^^^  °^''"®  ^''^®  ^'^®  P^^o'''  whenever  they  were  afflict- 
iutiie  ed  by  the  hand  of  God  or  man.     The  widows  and 

"'"°''''  orphans,  the  lame  and  blind,  the  paralytic  and  epi- 
le})tic,  the  lepers,  and,  above  all,  the  possessed,  appeared  in 
a  crowd,  in  quest  of  a  virtue  and  knowledge  equally  super- 
natural to  their  eyes. 

The  solitaries  withdrew  with  modesty  from  the  exercise 
of  the  supernatural  power  attributed  to  them.  When  the 
St.  Laumer  Abbot  Launomar,  who  being  at  first  a  shepherd,  had 
ai  Perciie.  hecomo  a  studcut,  then  a  celkrer  of  a  monastery  of 
About 590.  Chartres,  and  lastly,  an  anchorite  in  the  great  desert 
of  Perche,  which  then  attracted  many  lovers  of  solitude,^'^'^ 
was  discovered,  and  approached  by  a  crowd  of  petitioners, 
among  whom  was  a  distressed  father  who  brought  his  crip- 
pled son  to  be  cured  — *'  You  ask  too  much,"  said  he,  "  of  a 
sinful  man."  The  same  sentiment  animated  the  noble  Ma- 
glorias,  one  of  the  Breton  missionaries,  and  the  successor  of 
St.  Ma-  Samson,  at  Dol.  After  having  abdicated  his  bish- 
Armor/ea  ^P^''^'^  ^o  Hvc  as  a  hermit  in  the  isle  of  Jersey,  which 
andia  Childebcrt,   as    has    been    already    seen,    bestowed 

Jersey.  ^  ^^^^^  ^  Breton  monastery,  the  lord  of  a  neighboring 
isle,  rich  in  a  hundred  ploughs,  as  says  the  legend,  and  pos- 
sessing innumerable  fishing-boats,  came  to  ask  this  saint  to 
restore  her  speech  to  his  only  daughter,  who,  despite  her 
rich  inheritance  and  rare  beauty,  could  not  find  a  husband 
because  she  was  dumb.  "My  son,"  answered  Maglorius, 
"  torment  me  not :  that  which  you  ask  is  beyond  the  power 
of  our  weakness.  When  I  am  sick,  I  know  not  whether  I 
am  to  die  or  be  cured.  How,  then,  having  no  power  over 
my  ovyn  life,  should  I  be  able  to  take  away  any  of  the  other 
calamities  permitted  by  God?  Return  to  your  house,  and 
offer  abundant  alms  to  God,  that  you  may  obtain  from  him 
the  cure  of  your  daughter."     He  ended,  however,  by  yield- 

'*^  "  Inter  opaca  nemorura.  .  .  .  Vasta  tectus  Perticas  solitudine."  —  Vit. 
S.  Launomari,  c.  5  et  6.  "  Vastas  expetunt  Pertesi  saltus  solitudines."  — 
Vit.  S.  Karilefi,  c.  9.  Compare  VU.  S.  Leobini,  c.  6.  "  Grandeni  ab  liom- 
ine  peccatore  poscis  rem :  tamen  nostras  sumens  eulogias  reduc  ad  propria 
filium  tuum  .  .  •  quibus  accepti.«  sanura  reduxit  filium." 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  507 

ing  to  the  entreaties  of  the  father,  who  gave  him  a  third  part 
of  all  his  possessions,  and  by  obtaining  this  miracle  from 
God. 167 

The  same  Maglorius,  in  leaving  his  bishopric  for  solitude, 
Ibund  himself  pursued  by  a  crowd  so  numerous  and  eager 
for  instruction  and  consolation,  and  at  the  same  time  so  lavish 
of  gifts  and  alms,  that  he  was  in  despair.  He  told  his  grief, 
with  his  face  bathed  in  tears,  to  his  successor  in  the  see  of 
Dol.  "  No,"  said  he, ''  I  can  no  longer  remain  within  reach  of 
all  these  people  :  I  will  fly  and  seek  some  inaccessible  place, 
where  men  have  never  penetrated,  nor  can  penetrate,  where 
no  human  steps  can  follow  me."  The  bishop  listened  in 
silence,  and  permitted  him  to  pour  out  all  his  grief  for  some 
hours;  then  he  mildly  reproved  him,  and  showed  him  that 
he  could  not  deny  to  the  poor  of  Christ  the  true  seed  of 
spiritual  life,  nor  refuse  to  take  upon  himself  the  sweet  bur- 
den of  the  people's  sorrows,  for  which  God  would  render  him 
a  hundred-fold.  Maglorius  listened  and  obeyed  him:  and 
eliortly,  in  place  of  the  solitary  cell  he  had  dreamt  of,  found 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  community  of  sixty-two  monks.^^s 

Among  the  leudes  and  other  possessors  of  the  Gifts  of 
soil,  there  were  also  many  to  whom  gratitude  for  tiieieucies. 
health  restored,  or  admiration  of  the  virtues  displayed  by 
the  monks,  suggested  the  thought  of  associating  themselves 
with  their  merits  and  courage  by  territorial  grants,  and 
especially  by  the  concession  of  these  forests  of  which  they 
were  nominally  the  lords  and  proprietors,  and  which  they 
willingly  gave  up  in  favor  of  the  servants  of  God,  who  had 
colonized  them.  Such,  among  a  thousand  others,  was  Rag- 
nosvinthe,  a  man  of  illustrious  family,  and  master  of  vast  ter- 
ritorial possessions  in  the  neighborhood  of  Chartres ;  being 
apprised  that  the  Abbot  Launomar  had  come  to  establish 
himself  in  a  corner  of  his  lands,  once  inhabited,  but  since 

'^'  "  Hausit  speciem  carnis  ab  arce  alti  sanguinis.  .  .  .  Ad  prsedicandum 
populo  ejusdeui  linguae.  .  .  .  Qui  licet  terram,  ut  aiunt,  centum  peue  verte- 
rut  aratris.  .  .  .  Diviteui  censuni  non  sine  tnagno  dolore  alieno  servabat 
haercdi.  Huic  unica  tilia  jam  nubilis  et  nimia  pulchritudine.  .  .  .  Bed  quia 
otncio  I'nguse  .  .  .  destituta  ...  a  nuUo  sub  nomine  dotis  expetebatur. 
.  .  .  Fill,  noli  milii  molestus  esse,  nam  hoc  quod  requiris  non  est  nostrje 
tragilitatis." —  Vita  S.  Maglorii,  c.  1,  3,  29.  ■ 

16S  n  Irrigata  facie  lacryniis,  qualia  et  quanta  a  multitudine  vulgi  perpessusJ 
estretulit.  .  .  .  Pro  certonovcris  me  hinc  impromptu  egressurum,  et  ad  locum 
ubi  nulla  exislunt  hominis  vestigia.  .  .  .  liinc  recedere  et  abrupta  expetere. 
.  .  .  Spiritualis  alimoniEe  pauperibus  Christii  qua  illjs  vivere  est  triticum. 
.  .  .  Horum  populorum  molestias  circa  te  exagitatas  perspiccre  debes  onus 
leve."  ^-  Vita   ^.  Maglorii,  c.  10  et  11. 


508  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

swallowed   up  iu  the  forest,  the  leude,  inspired  by  the  love 

of  Him  whose  image  he  venerated  in  the  man  of  God 

who  had  become    his   guest,  transferred   to  him  the 

perpetual  possession  of  a  wooded  district,  the  limits  of  which 

were  carefully  marked  out.^^^ 

The  monks  did  not  refuse  these  gifts  when  they  came  from 
a  legitimate  and  natural  source.  But  »ve  must  not  believe 
somoac-  that  they  were  ready  to  receive  all  that  came  to 
others're-  them  from  every  hand ;  for  the  same  Launomar,  to 
ftised,  whom  another  noble,  feeling  himself  sick  to  death, 

had  sent  forty  sols  of  gold  as  the  price  of  the  prayers  he 
asked,  sent  them  back  at  once,  suspecting  that  this  sum  was 
the  produce  of  the  rapine  which  the  dying  man  had  prac- 
tised. In  vain  the  bearer  of  this  gift  followed  him  even  into 
his  oratory,  under  pretence  of  praying  with  him,  and  placed 
the  pieces  of  gold  on  the  altar,  taking  care  to  show  them,  and 
weigh  one  by  one  to  make  their  value  apparent.  ''  No,"  said 
the  abbot,  "  take  back  your  money,  and  return  to  your  mas- 
ter ;  say  to  him  from  me,  that  this  money  is  ill-gotten,  that  it 
cannot  either  prolong  his  life  or  change  the  sentence  of  God 
against  bis  sins.  God  will  not  have  sacrifices  produced  by 
rapine.  Let  your  master  make  haste  to  restore  what  he  has 
taken  from  others,  for  he  shall  die  of  this  disease.  As  for  us, 
by  the  goodness  of  Christ,  we  are  rich  enough,  and,  as  long 
as  our  faiih  stands  fast,  we  shall  want  nothing."  ^'^ 
Discontent  However,  in  spite  of  this  reserve,  men  were  not 
exclteirby  Wanting  whom  these  generous  gifts  inspired  with 
tiiese  gifts,  jealous  discontent.  Even  in  Armorica,  where  de- 
votion towards  the  monks  seemed  native  to  the  very  soil, 
with  the  faith  of  which  these  monks  were  the  first  apostles, 
chiefs  of  the  highest  rank  yielded  to  this  sentiment,  and  ex- 
pressed it  loudly.  The  Briton  Malo,  who  had  devoted  the 
numerous  gifts  which  he  received  to  endow  a  monastery  of 

169  "  Vir  illustris,  satis  locuplcs  et  latissimorum  fundorum  possessor.  .  . 
Tactus  anioris  ejus  igne,  queni  in  Uei  lioniine  artius  vencrans  attendebat, 
tradidit  ei  locum  in  quem  vir  sanctus  ingressus  fucrat  .  .  .  et  de  jure  suo  in 
ejus  dominationem  perpetuo  transfudit  ipsi  ct  posteris  ejus  .  .  .  quera  etiam 
propriis  finibus  optinie  undique  deteriiiinavit." —  Vita  S-  Launom..,  ap.  Act. 
SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  i.  p.  324. 

170  "  Vir  nobilis  Ernioaldus  nomine.  .  .  .  Sed  devotus  miles  Domini  ac- 
cipere  recusabat.  .  .  .  Perge  cito,  fili.  .  .  .  Pecunia  h^c  mortem  diviiiaiu- 
que  nequit  proliibere  scntcntiam,  eo  quod  illius  ac-quisitio  injuste  facta  sit; 
pro  so  lalioret,  quia  morietur.  .  .  .  Pecunia  ista,  o  homo !  iniqua  est.  .  .  . 
Qui  Deo  sacrificium  de  rapina  parat.  .  .  .  Nuntia  domino  tuo,  ut  injuste 
sublata  rcstitnet.  .  .  .  Nos  Cliristo  propitio  bonis  omnibus  abandanius,  et,  si 
fide  non  infirmamur,  nihil  nobis  deerit." —  Vita  S.  Launom.,  pp.  320,  325 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  509 

sevent}'  monks  attached  to  his  episcopal  church,  was  forced 
to  leave  his  diocese  and  emigrate  a  second  time,  before  the 
outcries  of  those  who  denounced  hira  as  an  invader,  who  in- 
tended to  bewitch  the  whole  province,  and  leave  no  inheri- 
tance to  the  inhabitants  or  their  descendants. 

Eecruits,    or    importunate    followers    of  another  -r^e monks 
kind,  often  came  to  trouble  their  solitude.    The  con-  j^^f^jj^g 
dition  of  Gaul  was  but  too  well  adapted   to  encour- 
Age  the  formation  and  prolonged  existence  of  the  habits  of 
brigandage,  which  have  kept  their  ground  in  many  modern 
countries  through  all  the  progress  of  civilization,  and  which 
are  still  to  be  found  in  our  own  day  in  Spain  and  Italy.    Some 
contented  themselves  with  stealing  the  tools  of  the  solitary 
who  had  no  other  wealth,  or  depriving  him  of  the  single  cow 
which  he   had  taken  Avith  him ;  but,  more  frequently,  they 
aimed  even  at  the  life  of  the  intruders.     The  forests  were  the 
natural  resort  of  these  bands  of  brigands,  who  lived  by  theft, 
and  who  did  not  recoil  from  murder  when   they  could  thus 
rob  their  victims  more  completely.     They  could  not  without 
rage  see  the  monks  disputing  the  possession  of  their  hitherto 
uncontested    domain,   penetrating   farther   than    they  them- 
selves could  do,  and  in  such  a  way  as  always  to  defeat  their 
greediness,  by  entangling  those  who  followed  them  in  be- 
wildering complications  of  the  way.i'i  And  they  were  always 
tempted  to  believe  that  these  strange  guests  went  either  to 
bury  or  to  seek  hidden  treasure.    The  Abbot  Launo-  st.  Launo- 
mar,  Avhose  legend  unites  so  many  incidents  of  the  forestV 
forest-life  of  the  monastic  founders,  found  himself  I'erche. 
one  morning  surrounded  by  a  troop  of  bandits,  who  had 
spent  all  the  night  in  seeking  for  him.     But  when  they  saw 
him  appear  upon  the  threshold  of  his  hut  of  branches,  they 
were  afraid,  and   fell  at  his  feet,  praying  his   pardon.     "  My 
children,"  he  said,  "  what  do  you  ask  of  me?     What  came 
you  to  seek  here  ? "     And  when  they  had  confessed  their 
murderous  intention,  he   said  to  them,  '*  God  have  pity  on 
you  !     Go  in   peace.     Give  up  your  brigandage,  that  you 
may  merit  the  mercy  of  God.     As  for  me,  I  have  no  treasure 
here  below.     Christ  is  my  only  treasure."  ^''^ 

"*  "  Bovem  a  praesepio  solventes  abduxerunt.  .  .  .  Latrunculi  .  .  .  nus- 
quani  aditum  invenientes  quo  se  de  solitudine  invia  foras  extrahere  possent." 
—  Vita  S.  Launom.,  c.  20. 

172  a  pgj.  totam  noctetn  .  .  .  errantes  ut  eum  interficerent.  .  .  .  Putabant 
ilium  aliquam  pecuniani  in  deserto  servare.  Diluculo  autera  facto,  vident 
Be  repente  in  conspectu  ejus  .  .   .  sub  parvo  tugurio.  .  .  .  Parce  nobis,  vii 

43* 


510  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

The  monks  almost  always  thus  disarraed  tlie  brigands  by 
their  goodness,  gentleness,  and  venerable  aspect ;  they  led 
them  to  repentance,  and  often  even  to  monastic  life,  taking 
them  for  companions  and  disciples. 

St.  Seine  in  Scquanus,  whose  tranquil  courage  and  fervent 
Bui-ijimciy.  pletj  we  have  already  narrated,  had  been  warned 
About 580.  that  the  borders  of  the  impenetrable  forest  into 
which  he  was  about  to  venture  Avere  occupied  by  bands  of 
assassins,  who  were  even  called  anthropophagi.  "  No  mat- 
ter," he  said  to  one  of  his  relatives,  who  imagined  himself 
the  owner  of  this  region,  and  who  gave  him  this  informa- 
tion;  "  show  me  only  the  road  by  which  to  reach  it;  for  if  ray 
desires  ai-e  dictated  by  a  divine  instinct,  all  the  ferocity  of 
these  men  will  change  into  tlie  mildness  of  the  dove."  And, 
in  fact,  when  they  understood  that  he  had  established  him- 
self near  their  caverns,  and  when  they  had  seen  him,  the 
wolves  became  lambs  ;  they  even  became  laborers  to  serve 
and  aid  Ijim  and  his,  to  cut  down  the  neighboring  trees,  to 
dig  the  foundations  and  build  the  walls  of  his  monastery. ^'^ 
St.  Evroui  Whilst  this  occurred  near  the  sources  of  the  Seine, 
ID Ncustna.  gjj^jijj^j.  eveuts  Were  taking  place  not  far  from  its 

517-590.  mouth.  Ebrulph,a  noble  Neustrian  lord,  had  given 
up  conjugal  life  and  the  favor  of  kings  to  betake  himself  to 
the  wild  solitudes  of  the  forest  of  Ouche,  in  the  Pagiis  Oxi- 
mensis}"''^  which  was  the  hiding-place  of  numerous  brigands. 
One  of  these  met  him :  *'  Oh,  monk ! "  he  said,  ''  what  can 
bring  you  into  this  place  ?  Do  you  not  see  that  it  is  made 
for  bandits  and  not  for  hermits?  To  dwell  here  you  must 
live  by  robbery  and  the  wealth  of  others.  We  will  not  toler- 
ate those  who  would  live  by  their  own  labor;  and  besides,  the 
soil  is  barren ;  you  may  take  pains  to  cultivate  it,  but  it  will 
give  you  back  nothing."  *'  I  come,"  answered  the  saint,  *'  to 
weep  for  my  sins  ;  under  the  protection  of  God  I  fear  the 
menaces  of  no  man,  nor  yet  the  hardships  of  any  labor.     The 

Dei,  parce.  .  .  .  Filioli,  ut  quid  parci  vobis  petitis?  Cessite  a  latrociniis. 
.  .  .  Pecunia  vero  nostra  Cliristus  est." — Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  i.  pp.  318, 
322. 

'"  "Estmilii  locus  hereditario,  ni  fallor,  jure  perdebitus,  sed  loci  illius 
finitirai,  bestiarura  more,  carnibus  humanis  ac  cruoribus  dcpascuntur.  .  .  . 
Mihi  locum  monstra.  .  .  .  Erat  quippe  spelunca  latronum.  .  .  .  Ex  liipis 
quasi  oves  facti  sunt.  .  .  .  Instabant  structores  operis  ii  qui  advenerant  fini- 
timi,  pars  fundaniinis  consolidare  juncturas  .  .  •  pars  umbrosse  siivae  nemo- 
ra  detruncare."  —  Vit.  S.  Sequani,  c.  7,  8. 

"*  This  name  was  afterwards  translated  by  the  word  Hiesmois,  and  was 
used  to  designate  an  archdeaconry  of  the  diocese  of  Seez  —  J.  DesnoyerSj 
Topogr.  Eccles.  de  la  France  au  Moyen  Age,  p.  166. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  511 

Lord  knovveth  how  to  spread  a  table  for  his  servants  in  the 
wilderness;  and  thou  th3'seir,  if  thou  wilt,  mayst  seat  thyself 
at  it  with  me."  The  brigand  said  nothing,  but  returned  next 
day  to  join  Ebrulph  with  three  loaves  baked  under  the  ashes 
and  a  hone^^comb  :  he  and  his  companions  became  the  first 
monks  of  the  new  monastery,  afterwards  celebrated  under 
the  name  of  its  holy  fwunder.^"^  The  place  from  which  all 
men  fled  soon  became  the  refuge  of  the  poor ;  alms  took  the 
place  of  robbery,  and  to  such  an  extent,  that  one  day  when  a 
beggar  had  been  sent  away  because  the  new-born  community 
had  only  half  a  loaf  remaining,  Ebrulph  sent  after  him  to  give 
him  that  half,  trusting  for  himself  and  his  brethren  to  the 
alms  of  heaven.  They  wanted  so  little  from  him  that  he  was 
able  to  found  and  govern  fifteen  other  monasteries. ^^^ 

These  were  not,  however,  the  only  encounters  or  The  monks 
the  sole  intercourse  which  their  voluntary  exile  in  and  the 
the  woods  procured  to  the  monks  of  the  Merovin- 
gian age.  At  the  other  extremity  of  the  social  scale  they 
excited  the  same  feelings  of  surprise  and  sympathy.  They 
were  perpetually  found  out  and  disturbed  by  kings  and  no- 
bles, who  passed  in  the  chase  all  the  time  which  was  not  oc- 
cupied in  war.  All  the  Franks  of  high  rank  and  their  trusty 
followers  gave  themselves  up  to  that  exercise  with  a  passion 
which  nothing  else  in  their  life  surpassed.  In  the  vast  for- 
ests which  covered  Gaul  they  found,  not  only  an  inexhausti- 
ble supply  of  game,  but,  above  all,  animals  of  size  and  force 
so  formidable  as  to  offer  them  all  the  perils  and  emotions  of 
war.  The  elan,  the  buffalo,  the  bison,  and  especially  the  urus 
[Auerochs),  so  famous  for  its  ferocity,  were  adversaries 
worth}'  of  the  boldest  combatant  or  the  most  warlike  prince. 
But  there,  in  the  midst  of  the  forest.  Religion  awaited  them; 
and  while  they  thought  only  of  sport,  and  of  pursuing  the 
deer,  she  raised  before  them  imposing  and  unexpected  sights 

^''^  Ouche,  or  St.  Evroul,  in  the  diocese  of  Lisieux;  in  Latin  Uticitm, 
Uticense. 

176  t>  Admodum  nobili  ortus  prosapia.  .  .  .  Nobilitatis  lampade  clarus, 
tnox  innotuit  Ciilotario  regi  .  .  .  caeteris  praelatus  maximum  in  palatio  ob- 
tineret  locum.  .  .  .  Qufe  silva  densitate  arborum  horribilis,  crebris  latronum 
discursibus.  .  .  .  O  monachi !  quae  turbationis  causa  nostras  partes  coegil 
adire?  .  .  .  An  nescitis  quia  hie  est  locus  latronum  et  non  heremitarum? 
.  .  .  arva  infructuosa,  vestraque  labori  ingrata  invenistis.  .  .  .  Non  habeo, 
inquit  (minister),  nisi  dimidmra  panis  quem  reservo  servulis  no.'itris.  Nam 
caetera  secundum  jussum  tuum  erogavi.  .  .  .  Cito  curre  et  largire.  .  .  .  Ac- 
cipe,  Domine,  eleemosynam  quam  tibi  abbas  misit.  .  .  .  Ecce  ante  soli? 
oceasum  quidam  clitellarius  pro  foribus  cellulae  visus  est,  pane  et  vino  suffi 
oienter  onustus."  —  Ordeeic  Vital.,  lib.  vi.  pp.  609,  612. 


512  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

which  filled  them  with  emotion  rind  respect.  Som.ctimes  the 
spectacle  of  these  solitaries,  vowed  to  the  service  of  (irod, 
was  enough  to  convert  to  monastic  life  the  cavalier  who  came 
npon  them  suddenly  when  he  reckoned  upon  striking  his 
prey  with  spear  or  javelin.  Such  was  the  case  with  Brae- 
Brncchio,  in  chio,  a  youiig  Tliuriugian  huntsman,  attached  to  the 
Auver^ne.     persou  of  the  Frank  Duke  of  Auvergne,  and  perhaps 

529.  brought,  like  E.adegund,  from  his  native  land,  after 
the  conquest  of  Thuringia  by  that  same  son  of  Clovis  who 
had  listened  to  and  honored  the  slave  Portianus.^'"  This 
Bracchio,  still  savage  like  his  name,  which  signifies  a  hears 
cub,  passed  his  life  hunting  in  the  vast  oak  woods  which  still 
covered  the  north  of  Auvergne.  In  hot  pursuit  of  an  enor- 
mous boar,  he  was  led  one  day  to  the  threshold  of  the  her- 
mitage in  which  a  noble  Auvergnat,  named  Emilian,  whom 
even  the  wild  animals  had  learned  to  respect,  lived  as  an 
anchorite.  The  dogs  stopped  short  and  dared  not  attack  tlie 
boar;  the  young  hunter  alighted  from  his  horse,  saluted  the 
Old  man,  and  sat  down  to  rest  by  his  side.  The  Gallo-Koman 
opened  his  arms  to  the  German,  and  spoke  to  him  of  the  in- 
finite sweetness  of  solitude  with  God.  The  Bear's  cub  lis- 
tened and  left  him  without  replving,  but  already  decided  in 
his  heart.  Soon  after  he  applied  himself  to  learn  reading 
and  writing  seeking  instruction  for  that  purpose  from  the 
priests  and  monks  whom  he  met  on  his  road.  At  the  end  ol 
three  years  he  could  read  the  Psalter.  Then,  his  master 
having  died,  he  went  to  join  Emilian,  who  bequeathed  to  him 
his  hermitage,  from  which  he  was  taken  to  re-estab 
lish  relaxed  discipline  at  ]\Ienat,  in  that  ancient 
monastery,  the  mutilated  church  of  which  is  still  admired  on 
the  picturesque  banks  of  the  Sioule.^"^ 

But  the  most  frequent  result  of  these  encounters  were 
gifts  and  foundations  suggested  to  the  munificence  of  princea 
and  great  men  by  recollection  of  the  various  and  deep  im- 
pressions left  upon  their  souls  by  the  language  and  aspect  of 
these  men  of  peace  and  prayer,  buried  in  the   depth  of  the 

'"  See  above,  page  459. 

178  ^l  Nomine  Bracchio,  quod  in  eorum  lingua  interpretatur  ursi  catulus 
.  .  .  puer  discernit  non  sine  grandi  admiratione  quod  aprum.  quera  inchoa- 
verat  seqai  ferum,  in  conspectu  senis  iiiunsuetum  adstare  videbat  ut  agnuni." 
—  Greg.  Turon.,  VHcb  Pair.,  c.  12.  Menat  is  now  a  district  country-town 
of  Puy-de-Doine.  The  remains  of  tlie  Abbey  of  Menat,  restored  in  the 
seventli  century  by  Sr.  Mencle,  consist  of  a  cburch  still  beautiful  and  curi- 
ous, which  was  happily  preserved  fi<ini  a  modern  restoration,  between  1843 
and  1847,  by  the  intelligence  and  devotion  of  the  curati',  M.  Maison. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  513 

woods.  Their  intervention  in  favor  of  the  animals  pursued 
by  these  powerful  hunters,  and  the  right  of  asylum,  so  to 
speak,  which  they  had  established  for  the  game  in  their 
neighborhood,  almost  always  led  to  incidents  which,  told  long 
after,  were  transformed  and/  embellished  at  pleasure,  and 
which,  engraved  upon  the  popular  memory,  associated  them- 
selves by  an  indissoluble  link  with  the  fame  and  greatness  of 
numerous  monasteries  whose  origin  is  traced  back  to  these 
sylvan  traditions. 

While  the  chiefs  and  dependents  of  the  Gallo-Frank  Ri-rht  of 
aristocracy  visited  only  by  intervals,  and  for  the  tfiJ!'"^?,/^'' 
mere  pleasure  of  destruction,  the  shades  under  ne.iAiie 
which  the  entire  life  of  the  monks  was  passed,  these 
recluses  naturally  lived  in  a  kind  of  familiarity  with  the  ani- 
mals v/hich  they  saw  bounding  around  them,  whose  instincts 
and  habits  they  studied  at  their  leisure,  and  which,  in  course 
of  time,  they  easily  managed  to  tame.  It  might  be  said  that, 
by  a  kind  of  instinctive  agreement,  they  respected  each 
other.  In  the  numberless  legends  which  depict  monastic 
life  in  the  forest,  there  is  not  a  single  example  of  a  monk 
who  was  devoured  or  even  threatened  by  the  most  ferocious 
animals  ;  nor  do  we  ever  see  that  they  betook  themselves  to 
the  cJjase,  even  when  urged  by  hunger,  by  which  they  some- 
times suffered  to  extremity.  How,  then,  can  we  wonder 
that,  seeing  themselves  pursued  and  struck  by  pitiless 
strangers,  these  animals  should  seek  refuge  with  the  peace- 
ful guests  of  that  solitude  which  they  inhabited  together? 
and  how  can  we  I'ail  to  understand  why  Christian  nations,  ac- 
customed for  ages  to  find  shelter  and  protection  with  the 
monks  from  every  violence,  should  love  to  recall  these  touch- 
ing legends  which  consecrate,  under  a  poetical  and  popular 
form,  the  thought,  that  the  dwelling  of  the  saints  is  the  in- 
violable refuge,  of  weakness  pursued  by  strength?  "^'^ 

One  of  the  first  and   most  curious  examples  of  g^  ^^i^^jg 
these  relations  between  the  king  and  the  monks,  in  and  ins 
which  the  woodland  animals  served  as  intermediary     "  — 
influences,  is  that  of  Childebert  and  the  holy  abbot        ^^^' 
Karileff.     Karilefif  was  a  noble  Auvergnat,  who,  having  first 
been  led  to  Menat,  an  I  then  become  the  companion  of  St. 
Avitus  and  St.  Mesmin  at  Micy,  in  the  Orleannaise,  had  ended 

"^  M.  Cliarles  Louandre,  in  an  article  entitled  the  Epopee  ties  Animaux 
{Revue  des  Deux  3Iondes,  of  the  15th  December,  1853),  lias  perfectly  entered 
into  and  described  the  relations  of  the  monks  with  the  wild  animals  m  the 
forests  of  Gaul. 


514  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

by  taking  refuge  with  two  companions  in  a  fertile  glade  in 
the  woods  of  Maine.  Cultivating  this  unknown  corner  of  the 
earth,  he  lived  surrounded  by  all  kinds  of  animals,  and,  among 
others,  by  a  wild  buffalo,  an  animal  already  rare  in  that  coun- 
try, and  which  he  had  succeeded  in  taming  completely.  It 
was  a  pleasure,  says  the  legend,  to  see  the  old  man  standing 
by  the  side  of  this  monster,  occupied  in  caressing  him,  gently 
rubbing  him  between  his  horns  or  along  his  enormous  dew- 
laps and  the  folds  of  flesh  round  his  strong  neck  ;  after  which 
the  animal,  grateful,  but  faithful  to  its  instinct,  regained  at  a 
gallop  the  depths  of  the  forest. 

ciiiidebert  Childobert,  the  son  of  Clovis,  is,  as  we  have  al- 
and uitro-  ready  said,  the  great  hero  of  monastic  legends.  He 
^°^^*  must  have  loved  the  chase  as  passionately  as  any  of 

his  ancestors  or  successors,  for  in  almost  all  the  legends 
which  mention  him  he  is  occupied  in  this  pursuit.  Arriving 
in  Maine,  with  Queen  Ultrogoth,  to  pursue  his  ordinary  sport, 
he  heard  with  joy  that  a  buffalo,  an  animal  almost  unknown 
by  that  time,  had  been  seen  in  the  neighborhood.  All  is 
arranged  next  day  that  this  extraordinary  chase  may  have 
full  success  ;  the  bows  and  arrows  are  prepared  in  haste,  the 
trail  of  the  beast  sought  at  break  of  day,  the  dogs  first  held 
in  leash,  then  slipped,  and  giving  voice  with  full  mouth ;  the 
historian  of  the  solitary  gives  us  all  the  details  with  the  gusto 
of  a  practised  hunter.  The  terrified  buffalo  fled  to  take 
refuge  near  the  cell  of  his  friend,  and  when  the  huntsmen 
approached  they  saw  the  man  of  God  standing  beside  the 
beast  to  protect  it.  The  king  was  told  of  it,  and,  hastening 
forward  indignant,  cried  in  a  furious  tone,  when  he  saw  Kari- 
leff  in  prayer  and  the  buffalo  tranquil  beside  him,  "  How 
are  you  so  bold,  unknown  wretches,  as  to  invade  thus  an  un- 
conceded  forest  of  my  domain,  and  to  trouble  the  greatness 
of  my  hunting?"  The  monk  attempted  to  calm  him,  and 
protested  that  he  had  come  there  onl}^  to  serve  God  apart 
from  men,  and  not  to  despise  the  sovereign  authority  or  dis- 
turb the  royal  game.  "  I  order  thee,"  answered  the  king, 
"  thee  and  tliine,  to  leave  tliis  place  instantly  ;  woe  to  thee 
if  thou  art  found  here  again  !  "  Having  said  this  he  went 
away  scornfull}^ ;  but  had  scarcely  taken  a  few  steps  when 
his  courser  stopped  short ;  in  vain  he  struck  his  spurs  deep 
into  the  bleeding  flanks  of  the  horse  ;  he  could  not  advance 
a  step.  A  faitliful  servant  warned  him  to  calm  himself. 
Childebert  listened  to  him,  returned  towards  the  saint,  and, 
alighting,  received  his  blessing,  drank  of  the  wine  of  a  little 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  516 

vineyard  which  the  soh'tary  had  planted  near  his  cell.  and. 
though  he  found  the  wine  bad  enough,  kissed  the  venerable 
hand  that  offered  it,  and  ended  b}'  bestowing  all  the  lands  of 
the  royal  treasury  in  that  neighborhood  upon  him,  tliat  he 
might  build  a  monastery  there.  The  saint  at  first  refused 
the  donation,  but  at  length  accepted  as  much  ground  as  he 
could  ride  round  in  a  day,  mounted  on  his  ass ;  and  in  this 
enclosure  rose  the  abbey  from  which  has  come  the  existing 
city  of  St.  Calais.^80 

Returning  to  the  queen,  Childebert  told  her  his  adventure. 
Ultrogoth,  already  much  interested  in  the  monks,  was  eager 
in  her  turn  to  see  the  holy  recluse.  She  sent  to  ask  his  per- 
mission to  visit  him,  promising,  if  he  consented,  to  give  him 
full  possession  of  the  entire  domain  of  which  he  occupied 
only  a  part.  But  Karileff  obstinately  refused  her  request. 
'*  As  long  as  I  live,"  he  said  to  the  envoy  of  the  queen,  "  I 
shall  never  see  the  face  of  a  woman,  and  no  woman  shall  ever 
enter  my  monastery.  And  why  should  this  queen  be  so  de- 
sirous of  seeing  a  man  disfigured  by  fasts  and  rural  labors, 
soiled  and  covered  with  stains  like  a  chameleon  ?  Besides, 
I  know  the  deceptions  of  the  old  enemy :  we  must  needs 
defy,  even  in  the  horror  of  the  desert,  temptations  which 
made  Adam  lose  Paradise,  with  the  happiness  of  life  and  his 
intercourse  with  God.  Say  then  to  the  queen  that  I  will 
pray  for  her,  but  that  it  does  not  become  a  monk  to  sell  the 
sight  of  his  face  to  a  woman,  and  that,  as  for  her  lands,  she 
must  give  them  to  whom  she  will.  Say  to  her  that  the  monks 
have  no  need  of  great  possessions,  nor  she  of  my  blessing ; 
all  that  she  can  hope  to  have  from  us,  her  servants,  she  will 
have,  remaining  in  her  own  house."  ^^^ 

180  a  Parentibus  secundum  seculi  dignitatem  clarissimis  ortus.  .  .  .  Locus 
tantunimodo  feris  eremique  faniiliarissiniis  animantibus  pervius.  .  .  .  Erat 
spectabile  videre  bubulum,  qui  in  ea  provincia  difficile  est  inventu.  .  .  . 
Lento  unjjne  setas  inter  cornua  mulcentem,  nee  non  colli  toros  atque  paloa- 
ria  tractantem.  ...  At  ferus  hoc  contractatu  vclut  benedictione  donsitus 
praepeti  cursu  vastas  repetebat  solitiidines.  .  .  .  Signa  ejus  itineris  din  rimata 
rcperiunt  .  .  .  acres  molossos  funibus  absolvunt  .  .  .  canum  iatratui  cre- 
dentes.  .  .  .  Invenimus  in  quoduni  tugurio  honiinem  nobis  incognituni  .  .  . 
post  tergum  illius  adstanteni  bubulum.  .  .  .  Unde  vobis,  o  incognita2  per- 
sonae!  tanta  praesuniptionis  audacia,  ut  ausi  sitis  .  .  .  nostras  venationis 
dignitatem  .  .  .  mutilare.  .  .  .  Est  aliquid  vini  quod  parva  vitis  iiic  invcnta 
atque  exculta  elicuit.  .  .  .  Poculum  rux  .  .  .  pro  dantis  dignitate  potius 
quam  pro  sui  sapore  suscepit."  —  Siviardus.   Vita  S.  Karilefi,  c.  4,  14,  20. 

'*'  "  Omnia  fisci  illius,  in  cujus  parte  resident,  ei  attribuam.  .  .  .  Unde 
talia  reginae  ut  tantopere  me  videre  exoptet  diutinis  clianieleontis  coloribus 
incultum.  .  .  .  Non  decet  nos  .  .  .  vendere  nostrum  nmlieribus  aspectum. 
.  .  .  Fisci  sui  partem  cui  libuerit  attribuat.''  —  Vita  S.  Karilefi,  c.  28.  Com- 
pare Yeves,  Coronic.  General.,  t.  i.  pp.  IDiJ,  195. 


516  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

St  Mar-  '^''^^  same  Childebert,  softened  and  reconciled  to 

cuiph  and      the  habits  of  the  monks,  appears  in  the  legend  of  St. 

Marculph,  that  brave  abbot  of  Cotentin,  whose  ex- 
ploits against  the  Saxon  pirates,  and  friendship  with  the  King 
of   Paris,  we   have  already   seen.i^^     Before   his   death,   the 

Abbot  of  Naiiteuil  went  to  ask  from  the  king'  a  con- 

A  DC  ut  550  •  . 

firmation  of  all  the  numerous  gifts  which  the  mon- 
asteries founded  by  him  had  already  received.  As  he 
approached  Compiegne,  where  Childebert  then  resided,  and 
while  he  rested  from  the  fatigues  of  his  journey  in  a  field 
upjn  the  bank  of  the  Oise,  the  king's  huntsmen  passed  him, 
pursuing  a  hare.  The  animal,  after  many  doubles,  took 
refuge  under  the  robe  of  the  abbot.  At  this  sight  one  of  the 
hunters  addressed  him  rudely  :  "  How  darest  thou,  priest, 
lay  hands  upon  the  king's  game  ?  Restore  the  hare,  or  I 
will  cut  thy  throat."  Marculph  released  the  hare  ;  but  the 
dogs  all  at  once  became  motionless,  the  brutal  huntsman  fell 
from  his  horse,  and  in  falling  was  seriously  injured.  At  the 
prayer  of  his  companions  in  the  chase,  the  saint  raised  him 
up  and  healed  him.  Then  the  king,  who  was  hunting  in 
another  direction,  having  heard  what  had  occurred,  went  to 
meet  his  friend,  alighted  whenever  he  perceived  him,  asked 
his  blessing,  embraced  him  tenderly,  led  him  to  the  castle  of 
Compiegne  to  spend  the  night,  and  granted  him  all  that  he 
asked,  in  an  act  of  which  Queen  LTlirogoth  and  all  the  royal 
vassals  present  were  the  witnesses  and  sureties. ^^"^ 
St.  Giiies  The   name  of  a  certain   Childebert  is  also  con- 

andhisdoe.  jjected  in  somo  versions  of  a  famous  legend  with  the 
memory  of  one  of  those  holy  abbots  who  were  so  popular  in 
the  middle  ages,  not  only  in  France,  but  everywhere,  and 
especially  in  England  and  Germany.  A  young  Greek  of  il- 
lustrious birth,  named  ^gidius,^^*  had  come,  following  the 
steps  of  Lazarus  and  of  the  Magdalene,  to  the  shores  of  the 
Mediterranean,  and,  landing  near  the  mouth  of  the  Rhone, 

'«='  Page  463. 

'^'  "  Qua  temeritate,  clerice,  vcnationem  regis  invadcre  prEesumpsisti? 
Rcdde  eani,  alioquin  nieo  gladio  interibis.  .  .  .  Ex  equo  quem  calcaribus 
utrinique  fodien?  ut  lugienttMii  consequeretur  corruens.  .  .  .  Mutuis  sese 
noniplexibus  diu  deoscubiti.  .  .  .  Castruin  pariter  intraverunt  praedictum 
.  .  .  prassentibus  regina  Ultrogode  CEeterisque  suis  optimatibus  omnibus  attes- 
tuuibus,"  — Act.  SS.  O.  S.  13..  t.  i.  p.  124. 

'**  We  bave  tran-foniied  this  into  St.  Gi'ies:  in  Englisb,  St.  Giles,  whose 
name  is  borne  by  a  multitude  of  parishes,  and  by  one  of  the  most  populous 
quarters  of  London.  In  Germany,  St.  .Slgidius  is  counted  among  the  four- 
teen saints  specially  invoked  in  all  cases  of  distress,  under  the  name  of  Aux- 
iliary Saints,  iJie  Vierzehn  Noihhelf3r. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  517 

had  grown  old  in  solitude,  bidden  in  the  depths  of  a  vast 
forest,  without  any  other  nourishment  than  the  milk  of  a  doe 
which  lay  in  his  grotto.  But  one  day  as  the  king  of  the 
countrj'',  named,  according  to  some,  Cliildebert,  King  of  the 
Franks,  and  to  others,  Flavian,  King  of  the  Goths,^^^  was  fol- 
lowing the  chase  in  this  forest,  the  doe  was  started  an(,l  pur- 
sued into  the  cavern  by  the  hunters  ;  one  of  them  drew  an 
arrow  upon  her,  which  struck  the  hand  which  the  solitary 
raised  to  protect  his  companion.  The  king,  touched,  as  these 
wild  but  simple  natures  almost  always  were,  by  the  sight  of 
this  grand  old  man,  almost  naked,  caused  the  ^vound  to  be 
dressed,  returned  often  to  see  him,  and  at  last  made  him  con- 
sent to  the  erection  of  a  monastery  upon  the  site  of  his  grotto, 
of  which  he  became  abbot,  and  where  he  died  in  great  sanc- 
tity. Such  was,  according  to  popular  tradition,!^^  the  origin 
of  that  celebrated  and  powerful  abbey  of  St.  Gilles,  which 
became  one  of  the  great  pilgrim  shrines  of  the  middle  ages, 
and  gave  birth  to  a  town,  the  capital  of  a  district  whose  name 
was  borne  with  pride  by  one  of  the  most  powerful  feudal 
races,  and  which  retains  still  a  venerable  church,  classed 
among  our  most  remarkable  monuments  of  architecture  and 
sculpture. 

We  meet  the  same  incident  in  the  legend  of  St.  xhe  British 
Nennok,  the  young  and  beautiful  daughter  of  a  nok^j^n^the 
British  king,  who  gave  up  a  husband    whom  her  sta;^  which 

o '  O  r  ^  ^      took  refu*''e 

father  wished  to  bestow  her  upon,  in  order  to  emi-  in  the  choir 
grate  to  Arraorica,  and  devote  herself  to  monastic  °  ^  enuns. 
life.  The  prince  of  the  country,  pursuing  a  stag  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  her  monastery,  saw  the  animal,  half  dead  with 
fatigue,  take  refuge  Avithin  the  holy  enclosure,  upon  which 
the  hounds  stopped  short,  not  daring  to  go  farther.  Alight- 
ing from  his  horse  and  entering  the  church,  he  found  the 
stag  couched  at  the  feet  of  a  young  abbess,  amid  the  choir 
of  nuns  who  were  singing  the  service.  He  not  only  granted 
the  animal  its  life,  but  himself  remained  in  the  community 
for  a  whole  week,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  laid  upon  the 
altar  an  act  of  donation,  granting  the  surrounding  lands  to 
the  monastery,  with  the  addition  of  three   hundred   horses 

'^*  No  such  name  is  known  among  the  Gothic  kings:  the  Bollandists  sup- 
pose it  to  refer  to  King  Wamba,  who  reigned  from  G72  to  680. 

"**  Mabillon  {Annal.,  t.  i.  p.  99),  and  especially  the  Bollandists  (vol,  i. 
Sept.),  have  issued  long  dissertations  upon  the  times  of  St.  .^gidius.  He 
has  generally  been  considered  as  contemporary  witli  St.  Caesarius  of  Aries, 
in  the  sixth  century.  The  Bollandists  say  the  seventh  century,  and  prolong 
his  life  to  the  time  of  Charles  Martel. 

VOL.  I.  44 


518  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

and  mai-es,  and  three  hundred  head  of  cattle.^®"  It  is  easy  to 
perceive  in  this  history  the  popular  translation  of  a  more 
natural  incident,  of  the  asylum  offered  by  the  abbess  Nennok 
to  another  daughter  of  a  Britisli  king,  whom  her  hnisband, 
out  of  love  for  monastic  life,  had  forsaken,  and  who,  setting 
out  to  seek  him  through  Armorica,  had  been  pursued  by  a 
licentious  nobl'e,  and  had  found  shelter  only  in  the  cell  of  her 
husband,  from  whence  she  passed  to  the  monastery  of  Lan- 
Nennok  in  Plemeur.^^^ 
o»  „  ,  It  will  be  seen  hereafter  how  Clotaire  II.,  when 

St.  Desie  f.      i        t-i         i  11 

aurtcio-        he  became  master  ot   the  i^rank  monarchy,  and  was 
aire^..        hunting  in  one  of  the  royal  forests  of  Sequania,  pur- 
'''"■  sued  an  enormous  boar  into  the  oratory  inhabited 

by  an  old  Irish  monk,  Deicolus,  who  had  come  to  Gaul  with 
St.  Columba ;  and,  touched  by  seeing  this  ferocious  beast 
lying  before  the  little  altar  where  the  recluse  stranger  was 
at  prayer,  the  king  made  a  donation  to  him  of  all  the  land 
belonging  to  the  royal  treasury  in  the  neighborhood  of  his 
cell.  When  the  donation  was  made  and  accepted,  the  man 
of  God,  who  had  stipulated  that  the  life  of  the  boar  should  be 
saved,  took  care  to  let  him  go  free,  and  to  protect  his  flight 
into  the  wood.^^-^ 

The  great  feudal  vassals,  as  passionately  fond  of  the  chase 
as  were  the  kings,  and  as  much  occupied  with  it,  yielded, 
like  them,  to  the  influence  of  the  monks  when  the  latter  ap- 
peared before  them  to  protect  the  companions  of  their  soli- 
st  Baaie  tudc.  Basolus,  bom  of  a  noble  race  in  Limousin, 
and  his  and  fouuder  of  the  monastery  of  Viergy,^^^  in  the 
'^—  hill  country  of  Reims,  having  built  a   cell  in   the 

570-620.  depth  of  the  forest,  sheltered  by  a  stone  cross,  and 
where  his  whole  furniture  consisted  of  a  little  lettern  admi- 
rabl}^  sculptured,  to  bear  the  Holy  Scriptures  on  which  he 
meditated  unceasingly,  was  one  day  disturbed  in  his  devo- 
tions by  a  great  boar,  which  laid  itself  at  his  feet,  as  if  to  ask 
mercy  for  its  life.     Following  the  animal,  came  on  horseback 

187  <(  Cervus  ipse  fere  extinctus  lassitudine,  ad  ecclesiam  sanctae  Dei  farau- 
lae  conjungit.  .  .  .  Dux  et  ipse  veniens  descendit  .  .  .  cernensque  in  medio 
psallentium  .  .  .  sanctimonalium  choro,  ante  beatae  pedes  virgiiiis  mansue- 
factam  bestiam  jacuisse."  —  Bolland.,  t.  i.  Junii,  p.  410. 

*^*  Albert  le  Gkand,   Vie  de  St.  Efflum,  p.  705. 

'^^  "  Singularem  maximumque  apruin  .  .  .  raids  viri  Dei  cellam  ingredi- 
tur  .  .  .  ante  altare  accubare.  .  .  .  Viri  Dei  jussione  absque  ullius  laesione 
consueta  cum  impetu  petiit  lustra." —  Vita  S.  Deicoli,  c.  13. 

190  Viriziacum —  the  same  which  afterwards  took  the  name  of  St.  Basle. 
This  Basolus  must  not  be  confounded  with  the  Arverne  chief,  prisoner  of 
CI 0 vis,  and  saved  by  his  diaugiiter,  who  has  been  mentioned  before,  page  469. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  510 

one  of  the  most  powerful  lords  of  tlie  neigbborhood,  Attila, 
whom,  the  mere  glance  of  the  solitary  brought  to  a  standstill, 
ana  rendered  motionless.  He  was  a  good  man  at  bottom, 
says  the  legend,  though  a  great  hunter :  he  evidenced  this 
by  making  a  gift  to  the  abbot  of  all  he  possessed  round  the 
cell.  Four  centuries  after,  this  tradition  remained  so  fresh, 
that  by  an  agreement,scrupulously  observed,  the  game  hunted 
in  the  forests  of  Reims  was  always  spared,  both  by  the  dogs 
and  hunters,  when  it  could  reach  the  little  wood  over  which 
the  cross  of  St.  Basle  rose.^^^ 

And  it  was  not  only  from  man,  but  from  other  animals  that 
the  compassionate  solitaries  protected  the  creatures  whom 
they  had  accepted  as  guests  of  their  solitude. 

Eaunomar,  of  whom  we  have  already  quoted  st.  Laumer 
several  anecdotes,  was  wandering  in  his  forest  of  'indiusdoe. 
Perche,  chanting  psalms,  when  he  encountered  a  doe  flying 
from  some  wolves.  He  saw  in  this  the  symbol  of  a  Christian 
soul  pursued  by  devils:  he  wept  for  pity,  and  then  cried  to 
the  wolves,  "  Cruel  wretches,  return  to  your  dens,  and  leave 
this  poor  little  animal;  the  Lord  wills  that  she  should  be 
snatched  from  your  bloody  fangs."  The  wolves  stopped  at 
his  voice,  and  turned  back  upon  the  road.  "  See,  then,"  said 
he  to  his  companion,  "  how  the  devil,  the  most  ferocious  of 
wolves,  is  always  seeking  some  one  to  devour  in  the  Church 
of  Christ."  However  the  doe  followed  him,  and  he  passed 
two  hours  in  caressing  her  before  he  sent  her  away.^^^ 

The  ancient  authors  who  record  these  incidents, 
and  many  others  of  the  same  kind,  are  unanimous  ra/'empire 
in  asserting  that  this  supernatural   empire  of  the  ^ouksover 
old  monks  over  the  animal  creation  is  explained  by  ^iio  am- 
the  primitive  innocence  which  these  heroes  of  peni- 
tence and  purity  had  won  back,  and  which  placed  them  once 
more  on  a  level  with  Adam  and  Eve  in  the  terrestrial  Paradise. 
The  rage  of  the  ferocious  beasts,  says  one,  is  subdued  iuta 

'"  "Natuet  genere  nobilissimus.  .  .  .  Inter  condensa  silvaruni  fruteta 
.  .  .  quae  crux  integerrima  ibi  permanet  usque  in  praBsentcm  diem.  .  .  . 
Lectoriolum  iigneum  sculpturse  artis  pulcherrima  specie  compositum.  .  .  . 
Quidam  prsepotens  .  .  .  venandi  gratia  (ud  illud  genus  est  liominuni)  .  .  . 
sicut  erat  vir  bonus.  .  .  .  Hispida  beilua  quasi  vit£e  suas  imploratura  praesid- 
ium.  .  .  .  Extunc  mos  inolevisse  .  .  .  et  usque  hodie  observatur,  ut  si  .  .  . 
quaslibct  fuerit  venatio,  postquam  illius  intra  aggestum  silvulas."  —  Avso 
(,992),  Vita  S.  Basoli,  c.  7,  22,  23. 

192  "  Cruenti  persecutores,  ad  ergastula  revertimini  .  .  .  banc  vestris  eruet 
illaesam  rictibus.  .  .  .  Desistite  persequi  banc  bestiolam.  .  .  •  Quam  palpans 
homo  Dei  manu  8u4  post  duas  horas  remisit."  —  Act.  SS.  O.  B.,  t.  i.  pp. 
S19,  324. 


520  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

obedience  to  him  who  lives  the  life  of  the  angels,  as  it  was 
to  our  first  parents  before  the  fall.^^^  The  dignity,  says  an- 
other, which  we  had  lost  by  the  transgression  of  Adam  was 
regained  by  the  obedience  of  the  saints,  although  the  world 
was  no  more  an  Eden  to  them,  and  they  had  to  bear  the 
weight  of  all  its  distrest^es.  Our  first  father  received  from 
the  Creator  the  right  of  naming  every  living  creature,  and 
subduing  them  to  his  will.  "  Have  dominion  over  the  fish  of 
the  sea,  and  over  the  fowl  of  the  air,  and  over  every  living 
thing  that  moveth  upon  the  earth."  Was  it  not  by  the  same 
right  that  the  beasts  of  the  forest  obeyed  and  attached  them- 
selves to  these  holy  men  like  humble  disciples?!^*  Is  it 
M'onderfal,  says  Bede,  that  he  who  faithfully  and  loyally  obeys 
the  Ci'eator  of  the  universe,  should,  in  his  turn,  see  all  the 
creatures  obedient  to  his  orders  and  his  wishes  ?  ^^^  Two 
thousand  years  before  Redemption,  in  the  solitudes  of  Idu- 
mea,  it  had  been  predicted  of  the  just  man  reconciled  to  God 
that  he  should  live  in  peace  with  the  wild  beasts.  "  And  the 
beasts  of  the  field  shall  be  at  peace  with  thee."^^'^ 
Miracles  in  The  dignity  of  history  loses  nothing  by  pausing 
history.  upon  these  tales,  and  the  pious  trust  supported  by 
them.  Written  by  a  Christian,  and  for  Christians,  history 
would  lie  to  herself  if  she  afi'ected  to  deny  or  ignore  the  su- 
pernatural intervention  of  Providence  in  the  life  of  the  saints 
chosen  by  God  to  guide,  console,  and  edify  his  faithful  people, 
and,  by  a  holy  example,  to  elevate  them  above  the  bonds  and 
necessities  of  terrestial  life.  Certainly,  fables  are  sometimes 
mixed  with  truth ;  imagination  has  allied  itself  to  authentic 
tradition  to  alter  or  supersede  it;  and  there  have  even  been 
guilty  frauds  which  have  abused  the  faith  and  piety  of  our 
ancestors.  But  justice  had  been  done  on  these  by  the  jealous 
and  learned  criticism  of  those  great  masters  of  historic 
science  whom  the  religious  orders  have  furnished  to  the 
world,  long  before  the  systematic  disdain  and  adventurous 
theories  of  our  contemporary  authorities  had  profited  by 
Rome  inexactitudes  and  exaggerations,  to  throw  back  the 
whole  of  Catholic  tradition  into  the  rank  of  those  serai-histor- 
ic, semi-poetic  mythologies,  which  precede  every  incomplete 
civilization.     There  is  not  a  writer  of  authority  among  us 

i^-*    Vita  S.  Launora.,  ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  i.  p.  319. 
'^■*    Vita  S.  Karilefi,  c.  23. 

195  (i  Q,^j  enim  auctori  omnium  creaturarum  fideliter  et  integro  corde  famu- 
iatur,  non  est  mirandum  si  ejus  iinperiis  ac  volis  omnis  creatura  deservJat." 
BediJ,  in  Vita  S.  Cuthb.,  c.  13. 
■^*  Job  V.  23. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  5'  ? 

who  would  hesitate  to  repeat  these  fine  expressions  of  a  tr.te 
Christian  philosopher  :  "  Some  men  have  supposed  it  a  mark 
of  great  piety  to  tell  little  lies  in  favor  of  the  articles  of 
religion.  That  is  as  dangerous  as  it  is  useless :  they  thus 
run  the  risk  of  making  men  doubt  what  is  true  out  of  hatred 
for  that  which  is  false  ;  and  besides,  our  piety  has  so  many 
truths  to  nourish  it  that  lies  exist  at  their  expense,  like 
cowardly  soldiers  in  an  army  of  brave  men."  ^^" 

All  Christian  writers  have  spoken  and  thought  thus  ;  but 
their  minds  have  been  no  less  influenced  by  the  sentiment 
which  dictated  to  Titus  Livius,  a  pagan  of  the  age  of  Augus- 
tus, these  noble  words,  which  no  Christian  pen  would  dis- 
avow  :  "  I  am  not  ignorant  that  the  vulgar  spirit  which  does 
not  desire  the  interference  of  the  gods  in  present  affairs  is 
opposed  to  the  publication  of  the  wonders  of  the  past ;  but 
whilst  I  narrate  the  things  of  old,  it  appears  to  me  that  my 
heart  itself  enters  into  the  period  of  which  I  write  ;  I  feel 
that  religious  respect  constrains  me  to  reproduce  in  my 
annals  what  so  many  wise  men  have  thought  it  their  duty  to 
collect  for  posterity."  ^^^ 

197  u  Fuere  qui  inagnae  pietatis  loco  ducerent  mendaciola  pro  religione 
confingere  :  quod  et  periculosura  est,  ne  veris  adimatur  fides  propter  falsa, 
et  minirae  necessariuni ;  quoniam  proprietate  nostra  tarn  multa  sunt  vera,  ut 
falsa  tanquam  ignavi  niilites  atque  inutiles  oneri  sint  magis  quam  auxilio." 
—  LuDOV.  VivES,  De  TradendiA  Discipidis,  lib.  v. 

198  "Non  sum  nescius  ut  eadem  negligentia  qua  nihil  Deos  portendere 
vulgo  nunc  credant,  neque  nuntiari  adaiodum  ulla  prodigia  in  publicum, 
neque  in  annales  referri;  cseteruin  et  niilu,  vetustas  res  scribenti,  nescio  quo 
pacto  antiquus  fit  animus  :  et  quaedam  religio  tenet,  quae  illi  prudentissimi 
viri  publice  suscipienda  consuerint,  ea  pro  dignis  habere,  qua3  in  nieos  anna- 
les referam."  —  Tit.  Liv.,  lib.  xliii.  c.  13. 

I  may  be  permitted  to  quote  here  a  flue  passage,  which  has  not  been  suffi- 
ciently admired,  from  Count  de  Maistre  :  — 

"  With  regard  to  mythology,  hear  us  still  further.  Without  doubt,  all 
religion  gives  rise  to  a  mythology ;  but  do  not  forget,  dear  C'ount,  what  I  adi 
to  that  statement,  that  the  mythology  of  the  Christian  religion  is  alwnys 
'chaste,  always  useful,  and  often  sublime,  without  it  being  possible,  by  a  par- 
ticular privilege,  to  confound  it  with  religion  itself.  .  .  .  Hear,  I  pray  you, 
a  single  example;  it  is  taken  from  I  know  not  what  ascetic  book,  the  name 
of  which  has  escaped  me  :  — 

"  A  saint,  whose  very  name  I  have  forgotten,  had  a  vision ,  in  which  he  saw 
Satan  standing  before  the  throne  of  God,  and,  listening,  he  heard  the  evil 
spirit  say,  '  Why  hast  thou  condemned  me,  who  have  offended  thee  but  once, 
whilst  thou  savest  thousands  of  men  who  have  offended  thee  many  times?' 
God  answered  him,  '  Hast  thou  once  asked  pardon  of  me?  ' 

"  Beliold  the  Christian  mythology  !  It  is  the  dramatic  truth  which  has  its 
wortli  and  effect  independently  of  the  literal  truth,  and  which  even  gains 
nothing  by  being  fact.  What  matter  whether  the  saint  had  or  had  not  heard 
the  sublime  words  which  I  have  just  quoted?  The  great  point  is  to  know 
that  pardon  is  refused  only  to  him  who  does  not  ask  it.     St.  Augustine  has 

44* 


522  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

The  Churcli,  however,  could  not  be  answerable  for  those 
errors  or  falsehoods  which  have  crept  into  some  legends.  She 
oblig-es  no  one  to  believe  any  of  these  prodigies,  even  the 
best  verified  which  we  find  related  in  them.  But  when  such 
events  are  recorded  by  serious  authors,  and  especially  by 
contemporaries,  the  Church,  herself  founded  upon  miracles, 
acknowledges  and  commends  them  to  the  admiration  of 
Christians,  as  a  proof  of  the  faithfulness  of  His  promises,  who 
has  said  of  himself,  that  "  He  will  be  glorified  in  his  saints," 
and  that  "  he  that  believeth  on  me,  the  works  that  I  do  shall 
he  do  also  ;  and  greater  works  than  these  shall  he  do." 

It  is,  then,  both  just  and  natural  to  register  these  pious 
traditions,  without  pretenditig  to  assign  the  degree  of  cer- 
tainty which  belongs  to  them,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  to  put 
limits  to  the  omnipotence  of  God.  They  will  not  disturb  the 
minds  of  those  who  know  the  legitimate  necessities  of  na- 
tions accustomed  to  live  speciall}'  by  faith,  and  what  are  the 
riches  of  divine  mercy  towards  humble  and  faithful  hearts. 
Touching  and  sincere  echoes  of  the  faith  of  our  fathers,  they 
have  nourished,  charmed,  and  consoled  twenty  generations 
of  energetic  and  fervent  Christians  daring  the  most  produc- 
tive and  brilliant  ages  of  Christendom.  Authentic  or  not, 
there  is  not  one  which  does  not  do  honor  to  human  nature, 
and  which  does  not  establish  some  victory  of  weakness  over 
strength,  or  good  over  evil. 

It  is  certain,  besides,  that  to  our  forefathers,  to  the  Gallo- 
Franks,  from  whom  we  have  the  honor  of  being  descended, 
the  miracle  seemed  one  of  the  most  ordinary  and  simple  con- 
ditions of  the  action  of  God  upon  the  world.^^^  The  marvels 
which  we  have  related  were  received  by  them  as  the  natural 
result  of  innocence  restored  by  sacrifice.  To  the  eyes  of 
recently  converted  nations,  dazzled  by  so  many  great  and 
holy  examples,  even  when  their  faith  remained  dull  and  their 
manners  ferocious,  a  man  completely  master  of  himself  be- 
came once  more  master  of  nature.  And  the  animals  who 
approached  these  marvellous  men  were  themselves  trans- 
formed, and  attained  to  a  clearer  intelligence  and  more  last- 
ing gentleness.     All  kinds  of  attaching  qualities,  and  natural 

said,  in  a  manner  not  less  sublime  :  Bost  thou  fear  God  f  conceal  thyself  in 
his  arms  (Vis  fugere  a  Deo?  fuge  ad  Deuni).  To  you,  my  dear  Count,  this 
is  perhaps  as  striking;  but  for  the  crowd  much  is  necessary.  I  say^cr- 
haps,  for,  be  it  said  between  ourselves,  all  tlie  world  is  commonplace  on  this 
point;  and  I  know  no  person  wiiorn  dr.iniatic  instruction  does  not  strike 
mere  than  the  finest  morals  of  metaphysics." —  Lettres,  t.  i.  p.  235. 
*'  DoM  PiTKA,  Histoire  de  St.  Leger.  p.  xcii. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  523 

relations  with  the  existence  of  men  who  isolated  themselves 
from  their  fellow-creatures  to  live  in  community  with 
nature,  were  found  in  them.  Whilst  the  monastic  doctors 
found  pleasure  in  seeking  subjects  of  instruction,  or  analo- 
gies with  the  conditions  and  trials  of  religious  life,^^*'  in  the 
peculiarites  of  their  instincts  and  habits,  more  or  less  faitn- 
fully  observed,  the  faithful  united  in  attributing  to  the  holy 
monks,  as  companions,  servants,  and  almost  friends,  familiar 
animals  whose  society  peopled  their  solitude,  and  whose 
docility  lightened  their  labors.  This  intelligence  and  sympa- 
thy with  the  animals,  as  with  all  animate  nature,  is  a  distinc- 
tive characteristic  of  the  monastic  legend.  Antique  fables 
may  sometimes  reappear  there,  but  always  to  be  transfigured 
to  the  advantage  of  a  holy  belief  or  a  difficult  virtue. 

And  th?  most  authentic  narratives  confirmed  these  pious 
traditions.  In  that  history  of  the  Fathers  of  the  Desert 
which  was  commenced  by  St.  Athanasius  and  St.  ^j^^  nj^n^g 
Jerome,  there  are  a  thousand  incidents,  more  or  less  P*'.*^^'^^^ 
well  established,  which  show  us  the  most  ferocious  the  wild 
animals  at  the  feet  of  Anthony,  Pacome,  Macarins,  '''°™''»i^- 
Hilarion,  and  their  emulators.  At  each  page  are  to  be  seen  the 
wild  asses,  the  crocodiles,  the  hippopotami,  the  hyenas,  and 
especially  the  lions,  transformed  into  respectful  companions 
and  docile  servants  of  these  prodigies  of  sanctity  ;  and  the 
conclusion  drawn  is,  not  that  the  animals  have  reasonable 
souls,  but  that  God  glorified  those  who  devoted  themselves 
to  his  glory  by  showing  thus  how  all  nature  obeyed  man 
before  he  was  shut  out  from  Paradise  for  his  diso-  ^eraaimuB 
bedieuce.  Let  us  confine  ourselves  to  the  touch-  andhis 
ing  history  of  Gerasimus,  the  Christian  Androcles, 
abbot  of  a  monastery  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  who  had 
drawn  a  thorn  out  of  the  foot  of  a  lion,  and  whom  the  grate- 
ful animal  would  never  abandon.  The  terrible  beast  was, 
after  a  fashion,  received  as  a  member  of  the  community  :  he 
lived  upon  milk  and  boiled  herbs  like  the  monks ;  he  drew 
water  from  the  Jordan  for  the  wants  of  the  monastery ;  and 
when  the  old  abbot  died  the  lion  followed  him  to  his  grave 
and  died  there,  howling  with  grief.^'^i 

""^  See  the  curious  tract  of  S.  Pierre  Damien,  Be  Bono  Religiosi  Status  et 
Variarum  Animantium  Tropologis  (op.  62),  in  which  he  draws  an  example 
of  monastic  virtue  from  the  habits  of  ail  the  animals,  real  or  fabulous,  with 
which  the  natural  history  of  his  times  (such  as  was  set  forth  in  the  Bestiair&s, 
the  Physiologus,  &c.)  had  made  him  acquainted. 

201  41  Venit  leo  in  monasterium  et  quasrebat  senem  suum.  .  .  .  Dicebant 
ei :  Migravit  senex  ad  Dorainum.  .  .  .  Et  stans  abbas  Sabbatius  supra  sepul- 


524  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

The  Gaul,  Sulpicins  Severus,  who  must  be  regarded  astlie 
niopi;-  ancient  of"  our  rehgious  annalists,  and  who  had  studied 
monastic  institutions  in  the  East,  confirms  in  his  Dialogues 
all  that  Eastern  writers  have  said  on  this  subject.  He  re- 
lates the  facts  of  which  he  himself  liad  been  witness  in  the 
Thebaid  :  how,  in  traversing  the  desert,  he  had  seen  the 
monk  who  accompanied  him  offer  the  fruit  of  the  palm  to  a 
lion  whom  they  met,  which  he  ate  quietly  and  peaceably  like 
any  domestic  animal;  and  how,  in  the  hut  of  another  solitary, 
a  she-wolf  appeared  regularly  every  evening  at  the  supper- 
hour,  and  waited  at  the  door  till  she  was  called  to  eat  the 
remains  of  the  little  repast,  after  which  she  licked  the  hand 
of  lier  host,  who  caressed  her  familiarly.202 

Sulpicins  Severus  wrote,  when  he  had  returned  into  his 
own  countr}',  the  life  of  St.  Martin,  the  first  apostle  of  cono- 
st  Martin  bitical  life  in  Gaul.  He  there  relates  that  the  great 
ami  his  bishop,  visitiug  his  diocese  and  walking  along  the 
pun^ns.  |^,^|^j,g  ^^  ^]-|g  Loire,  followed  by  a  numerous  crowd, 
3i()-397.  perceived  the  aquatic  birds  named  plungeons  pur- 
suing and  devouring  the  fish.  "  Behold,"  said  he,  "  the 
image  of  the  devil :  see  how  he  lays  his  snares  for  the  im- 
prudent, how  he  devours  them,  and  how  he  is  never  satisfied." 
And  immediately  he  commanded  these  aquatic  birds  to  leave 
the  waters  in  which  they  swam,  and  to  dwell  henceforth  in 
the  desert.  At  his  voice,  says  the  historian,  and  to  the  great 
admiration  of  the  multitude,  the  birds,  obeying  him,  came 
out  of  the  river,  and  flew  in  a  body  to  the  skirts  of  the  neigh- 
boring forests.203 

Who  does  not  remember  the  raven  who.  according  to  St. 
Jerome,  carried  a  half-loaf  every  day  to  the  hermit  Paul,  and 
who  brought  him  a  whole  one  the  day  that  Anthony  went  to 

crura  abbatis  Gerasimi  dixit  leoni :  Ecce  hie  senex  noster  sepultus  est :  et 
inclinavit  genua  supra  sepulcruni  senis.  .  .  .  Cum  ergo  id  leo  audisset  et 
vidisset  .  .  .  tunc  et  ipse  prostravit  se  .  .  .  et  rugiens  ita  continuo  defuactus 
est  super  sepulcruni  senis."  —  Joan.  Moschcs,  De  Vit.  Pair.,  lib.  x. 
p.  894. 

*"^  "  Habebam  ununi  ex  fratribus  ducem  locorum  peritum.  .  .  .Ferapaulu- 
luni  modesta.  .  .  .  Accepit  tarn  libere  quam  uliuni  animal  domesticum ;  et 
cum  comedisset,  abscessit.  .  .  .  Aliuni  aeque  singularem  virum  vidimus  in 
parvi  tugurio.  .  .  .  Lupa  ei  solita  erat  adstare  coenanti  .  .  .  paneni  qui 
cojnulffi  superfuisset.  .  .  .  Manu  blanda  caput  triste  permulcet."  —  Sulp. 
Sever.,  Dial.,  i.  c.  7. 

20J  .i  Cuui  suo  illo,  ut  semper  frequentissimo  .  .  .  comitatu,  merges  in 
flumine  conspicatur.  .  .  .  Forma,  inquit,  hajc  da^monum  est.  .  .  .  Ita  grege 
facto  omnes  in  unum  illae  volucres  congregate  .  .  .  non  sine  admiratioue 
multorum."  —  Sulp.  Sev.,  Epist.,  iii.  Tlie  popular  name  of  MaHins- 
pecheurs  given  to  these  birds  is  probably  derived  from  this  legend. 


Maixent. 


THE  FIKST  MEROVINGIANS.  525 

visit  him?    Like  his  great  brethren  in  the  East,  the  patriarch 
of  the  Western  monks  had  also  his  familiar  bird,  which,  how- 
ever, came  to   receive  its  food   instead  of  bringing  food  to 
him.     St.    Gregory   the   great,  in   liis   l^ipgraphy  of  g^  ,j^^^^i^^ 
Benedict,  records  that,  while  still  at  his  first  monas-  and  iiis 
tery  of  Subiaco,  a  raven  from  the  neighboring  forest    '    '_ 
came  to  the  saint  at  every  meal  and  was  fed  out  of      ^'^~-^^- 
his  own  hand.^o^ 

These  tales,  piously  recorded  by  the  highest  genius  which, 
the  Church  has  possessed,  prepare  us  to  listen  without  sur- 
prise to  many  other  traits  of  the  familiar  intimacy  of  the 
monks  with  the  inferior  creatures. 

Sometimes  wild    sparrows,    as   the  legend    ffoes, 

1  I-  .,       i  i.  4.\  ■  I-  'I'he  monks 

came  down  from  tlie  trees  to  gather   grains  of  corn   and  the 
or  crumbs  of  bread  from   the  hand  of  that  Abbot  G^uf."^ 
Maixent  before  whom  Clovis  knelt,  on  his  return 
fiom  his  victory  over  Alaric  ;   and  the  nations  thus 
learned  how  great  was  his  humility  and  gentleness.^*'^    Some- 
times other  little  woodland  birds  came  to  seek  tlieir  food  and 
to    be    caressed   by   that  Walaric   who  will  shortly 
appear  before  us  as  one  of  the  most  illustrious  dis- 
ciples of    St.   Columba,  the    apostle  of  Ponthieu,   and   the 
founder  of  the   great  monastery  of  Leuconaus.     Charmed 
with   this  gentle   company,  when  his   disciples   approached, 
and  when  the  larks  fluttered  terrified  round  him,  he  stopped 
the   monks  while   still  at  a  distance,  and   signed  to  them  to 
draw  back.     "  My  sons,"  he  said,  *'  do  not  frighten  my  little 
friends,  do  them  no  harm :   let  them   satisfy  themselves  with 
what  we  have  left."  ^^^  On  another  occasion  Karileff, 
when  binding  up  and  pruning  his  little  vineyard, 
the  poor   produce  of  which   he  had  offered  to  King  Childe- 
bert,  stifled  by  the  heat,  had  taken  off  his  frock  and  hung  it 
upon  an  oak;   and  when,  at  the  end  of  the  hard  day's  labor, 
he  took  down  his   monastic  habit,  he  found  that  a  wren,  the 
smallest  and  most  curious  bird  in  our  climate,  had  nestled 
there  and  laid  an  egg.     The   holy  man  was  so  touched  with 

*"*  "'Ad  lioram  refcctionis  illius  ex  vicina  silva  corvus  venire  consueverat, 
et  paneni  de  manu  ejus  accipere."  —  S.  Greg.  Magn.,  Dial.,  ii.  8. 

200  41  Multoties  aves  fersB  relictis  nemorum  rainis.  .  .  .  Cum  indomiti 
passeres  in  dextera  illius  mcnsEe  reliquias  colligebant,  mansuetudinem  et 
sanctitatem  ejus  populi  compererant." —  Vita  S.  Maxent.,  c.  3;  Act.,  t.  i. 
p.  561. 

2U6  "  ut  .  .  .  articulis  suis  quandocumque  vellet,  oblitas  suas  fentatis  et 
quasi  domesticas  eas  palparet.  .  .  .  Circuniquaque  volitantes  aves.  .  .  . 
Filii,  non  tacianius  eis  iiijui-iam,  sed  peruiittamus  eas  pauUulum  satiari  de 
micis."  —  Vita  S.  Walarici,  c.  26. 


526  THE  MONKS  UNDEE 

joy  and  admiration,  that  he  passed  the  whole  night  in  prais- 
ina:    God.-*^"     A  similar  anecdote  is  related  of  St. 

Malo 

Malo,  one  of  the  great  monastic  apostles  who  has 
left  his  name  to  a  diocfese  in  the  northern  part  of  Armorica ; 
but  with  this  difference,  that  the  latter  permitted  the  bird  to 
continue  in  his  mantle  till  her  brood  was  hatched-^*^^  Tra- 
dition becomes  more  and  more  blended  with  the  dreams  of 
imagination  in  proportion  as  it  penetrates  back  into  Celtic 
legends :  one  of  which  records  that  when  Keivin,  another 
Breton  monk,  prayed  with  his  hands  extended,  the  birds  laid 
their  eggs  there.^^^ 

Mao-iorius  '^'^^  auimals  naturally  sought  and  preferred  to 
aucThis         dwell  in  the  domains  of  masters  who  were  so  gentle 

and  paternal ;  from  which  arises  the  amusing  story 
of  the  monk  Maglorius  and  Count  Loiescon.  This  rich  Ar- 
morican  count,  whom  Maglorius  had  cured  of  leprosy,  made 
him  a  gift  of  the  half  of  a  great  estate,  bathed  by  the  sea. 
Maglorius  having  come  to  take  possession,  all  the  birds  which 
filled  the  woods  on  the  estate,  and  all  the  fishes  which  inhab- 
ited its  shore,  precipitated  themselves  in  a  troop  towards  the 
portion  which  came  to  the  monk,  as  if  declaring  that  they 
would  have  no  other  lord  but  him.  When  the  count,  and 
particularly  his  wife,  saw  the  half  of  the  estate  which  they 
retained  thus  depopulated,  they  wore  dismayed,  and  insisted 
that  Maglorius  should  exchange  with  them.  But  when  the 
exchange  was  made,  the  birds  and  fishes  immediately  fol- 
lowed Maglorius,  going  and  coming,  so  as  always  to  keep  in 
the  portion  of  the  monks. ^^^ 

Sites  of  And  it  was  the  animals  who  spontaneously  indi- 

^omted^out  cated  the  predestined  sites  of  great  monastic  foun- 
by  animals,  dations.  lu  relating  the  history  of  the  martyr  monk, 
St.  Leger,  we  shall  see  the  position  of  Fecamp,  on  the  Neus- 

207  a  Vitem  circumfodiendo  et  supcrflua  qii^que  resccando.  Sudore  laboris 
coacto,  vestimentuni  quod  CucuUam  vocant.  .  .  .  Avicula  perexigiia,  cujua 
vocabulum  est  bitriscus,  dum  .  .  .  juxta  familiarem  sibi  consuetudinein  in- 
tima  quaeque  quadam  curiositate  perluserat.  .  .  .  Inaestimabile  gaudium  cum 
admiratione  mixtum  eum  occupavit." —  Vita  S.  Karilefi,  c.  12. 

SOS  11  Diixiisit  cappani  donee,  fotis  ovis,  pullos  in  tempore  excluderet  avic- 
ula."  —  SiGEB.  GeiMblac,  Vita  S.  Maclovii,  c.  15,  ap.  SuR.,  t.  vi.  p.  378. 
Compare  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.  p.  180. 

""*  OzANAM,  Etudes   Germaniques,  t.  ii.  p.  96. 

^'^  '•  Comes  valde  divitiarum  opibus  obsitus  .  .  .  qui  multam  in  medios 
crogaverat  substantiam.  .  .  .  Multitudo  copiosa  avium  mirae  magnitudinis  et 
pulchrae  .  .  .  captura  ingens  piscium  congeries  .  .  .  partem  S.  Maglorii, 
ipsius  praesentiae  ac  si  Domino  suo  debitae  servitutis  obsequium  praestans,  ex- 
petiit."  —  Mabillon,  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  i.  d.  212. 


THE  FlkST  MEROVINGIANS.  527 

trian  coast,  which  served  him  both  as  a  prison  and  asylum, 
pointed  out  to  the  Duke  Ansegise  by  a  stag  which  he  was 
hunting. 

It  was  told  in  Champagne,  that  when  Theodoric,  st.  Thierry 
the  son  of  a  famous  bandit,  but  himself  almoner  and  ^"',^14'^® 
secretary  to  St.  Remy,  the  great  apostle  of  the  ea-ie. 
Franks,  desired  to  found  a  house  which  he  might  himself 
retire  to,  and  was  seeking  a  site  for  it,  he  saw  a  white  eagle 
hovering  in  the  air,  which  seemed  to  mark  out  by.  its  slow 
and  circular  motion  the  enclosure  of  the  future  monastery; 
after  the  erection  of  the  famous  abbey,  which  took  the  name 
of  St.  Thierry,  this  miraculous  eagle  appeared  in  the  same 
place  every  yesiv.^^^ 

In  the  following  century,  St.  Nivard,  Archbishop  of  Reims, 
visiting  his  diocese  on  foot,  arrived  in  the  fine  country  which 
overlooks  the  course  of  the  Marne,  opposite  Epernay  ;  and, 
finding  himself  fatigued,  slept  under  the   shade  of  a  great 
beech,  on  the  knees  of  his  companion,  Berchaire.     During 
his  sleep  he  saw  a  dove  descend  from  heaven  upon  the  tree, 
and,  after  marking  the   same   circuit  three  times  by  flying 
round    it,  reascend  to  the    skies.     Berchaire,   who   liad   not 
slept,  saw  the  same  vision.     They  agreed  to  build  an  abbey 
there,  which  was  called  Hautvillers.    Berchaire  was   poundatioa 
its  first  abbot;  and  the   high  altar  rose  upon   the  of  Haut- 
same  spot  where  the  tree  had  stood  when  the  dove        — - 
alighted,2i2  a  sweet  symbol  of  the  tranquil  innocence      '5(;2-6?o. 
which  was  to  reign  there. 

But  a  still  closer  dea-ree  of  intercourse  between  ^^       .. 

.  o  .  Domestiea- 

the  monks  and  animated  nature  appears  m  the  an-  tionotthe 
nals  of  these  early  ages.  Innumerable  are  the  le-  maisbythe 
gends  which  show  these  wild  animals  obedient  to  ™°"'^^- 
the  voice  of  the  monks,  reduced  to  a  kind  of  domestic  condi- 
tion by  the  men  of  God  obliged  to  serve  and  follow  theDi. 
We  shall  have  to  tell,  from  contejuporary  narratives,  how  the 
illustrious  founder  of  liuxeuil,  St.  Coluraba,  in  traversing  the 
forests  of  the  southern  Vosges,  saw  the  squirrels  descend 
from  the  trees,  to  leap  upon  his  hands  and  hide  themselves  in 

^'^  "  Mittitur  de  sublimibus  aliger  in  similitudinem  aquilae  Angelas-  .  .  . 
Intelligunt  devoti  cultores  Dei  continuo  divinum  esse  niissum."  —  Act.  SS. 
O.  S.  B.,  s(^c.  i.  t.  i.  p.  597.  Compare  Feodoard,  Hist.  Remens.,  1.  24; 
Baugiee,  Memoircs  Hist,  de  Champagne,  t.  i.  p.  32. 

**'*  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  scbc.  ii.  t.  ii.  p.  802;  Baugiee,  p.  48.  —  Similar 
anecdotes  are  related  of  the  foundation  of  Montfaucon  and  Avenay,  in  the 
same  canton.  This  Berchaire  is  the  same  monk  of  Luxeuil  who  atierwarda 
lounded  Montier-en-Der,  in  the  south  of  Champagne. 


528  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

the  folds  of  his  cowl ;  how  he  made  the  bears  obey  him  ;  and 
liow  he  passed  with  safety  through  troops  of  wolves,  who 
rubbed  against  his  dress  without  daring  to  touch  him.-^^ 
The  same  legends  are  to  be  found  on  the  coast  of  Armorica 
as  on  the  banks  of  the  Danube.  Now  it  is  Corbini- 
iaiiaiidhis  an,  the  Frank  monk  who  founded  the  bishopric  of 
bear.  Frejsingen,  and  who,  crossing  the   Tyrol   to  go  to 

Rome,  obliged  the  bear  who  had  killed  one  of  his  baggage- 
horses  to  take  upon  his  own  back  the  burden  of  his  victim, 
Celtic  le-  ^'Od  thus  to  accompany  him  to  Rome.^^*  Now  it  is 
gends.  Samson,  the  metropolitan  of  Dol,  who,  seeing  his 

monks  disturbed  by  the  cries  of  the  wild  birds,  collected 
them  all  together  one  night  in  the  court  of  the  monastery, 
imposing  silence  upon  them,  and  the  next  morning  dismissed 
them,  forbidding  them  to  recommence  their  cry,  an  interdic- 
tion which  "  tliey  observed  inviolably."-^***  Now  it  is  Renan, 
the  anchorite  of  Cornouaille,  who  commanded  a  wolf 

T.  no  wolves  ■ 

tamed  by  to  give  up  the  shecp  of  a  poor  peasant,  which  it 
the  monks.  ^^,^^  carrying  awa}^  and  who  was  obeyed  on  the  in- 
stant. Or,  again,  the  blind  Herve,  patron  of  the  popular 
singers  of  Armorica,  whose  dog  had  been  devoured  by  a 
wolf,  and  who  compelled  tliis  wolf  humbly  to  take  the  dog's 
place,  and  secured  in  a  leash,  to  accompany  him  in  his  wan- 
derings.215 

The  wolves  are  everywhere  to  be  met  with,  and 
appear  again  in  the  legend  of  St.  Malo.  Forced  by 
his  persecutors  to  hide  himself  in  a  solitude  of  Saintonge,  he 
was  discovered  by  the  crowd  attracted  there  to  see  a  tame 
wolf,  which,  having  devoured  the  ass  of  the  solitary,  came 
every  day  to  seek  the  ass's  paniers,  in  order  to  fill  them  with 
the  wood  which  he  had  to  collect  in  the  forest.^^*^ 

«"  Jonas,   Vita  S.  Columbani,  c.  15.  27,  30. 

214  a  Mitte  super  eum  sellain  saginariam  et  sterne  ilium,  et  saginam  super 
*lluni  impone,  et  due  cum  aliis  cabaUis  in  viam  nostram.  .  .  .  In)positam  sibi 
saginam  ipse  ursus  quasi  domesticus  equus  Romam  usque  perduxit,  ibique  a 
vi'ro  Dei  diraissus  abiit  viam  suam."  —  Aribo,  Vita  S.  Corbiii.,  c.  11,  ap. 
Act.  SS.  O  S.  B.,  t.  iii.  An  anecdote  almost  similar  is  told  of  St.  Martin, 
Abbot  of  Vertou  in  Brittany,  during  his  pilgrimage  to  Rome.  — Act.  SS.  O. 
S.  B.,  t.  i.  p.  362. 

^^^'^  Albert  le  Grand,  p.  423. 

^^'^  Hersart  de  la  ViLLEMARQUE,  LSgende  Celtiqite,  p  2G4.  Albert  le 
Grand  relates  that  St.  Herve  being  once  lodged  in  a  manor  "  very  much  sur- 
rounded by  reservoirs  and  fish-ponds,"  but  in  which  he  was  much  incom- 
moded by  the  croaking  of  the  frogs,  he  imposed  on  them  everlasting  silence, 
"and  immediately  tiie  little  creatures  killed  themselves,  in  as  short  a  time  as 
if  they  had  had  their  throats  cut."  —  p.  318. 

216  n  Viderat  ^uotidie  lupum  ad  horam  venire  et  cum  clitellis  quas  asinui 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  529 

But  none  of  the  monastic  apostles  of  our  little  Brit-  ^,  paui  d€ 
tany  ever  surpassed,  in  this  respect,  that  Paul  who  ^''^• 
has  left  his  name  to  the  city  and  diocese  of  St.  Pol-de-Leon. 
and  whose  empire  over  the  most  ferocious  animals  was  abso- 
lute, and  of  great  advantage  to  the  population.  Once  he 
compelled  a  buifrtlo,  who  had  overthrown  and  broken  in 
pieces  with  his  horns  a  cell  which  a  monk  had  built  near  the 
fountain  where  the  animal  came  to  drink,  to  disappear  per- 
manently in  the  depths  of  the  forest.  Another  time,  he 
tamed  and  reduced  to  a  state  of  domestication  a  ferocious 
she-bear  and  her  cubs,  whose  race  Avas  long  marked  and  pre- 
served by  the  country  people.^i^  Here  it  was  an  enormous 
bear,  who  drew  back  before  him,  till  she  fell  into  a  ditch  and 
broke  her  neck.  There  it  was  a  crocodile  or  sea-serpent,, 
who  had  put  the  count  of  the  canton  to  flight  with  all  his  sol- 
diers, whom  Paul  compelled  to  throw  itself  into  the  sea,  upon 
that  point  of  the  coast  of  Cornouaille,  where  a  whirlpool 
called  VAbime  du  Serpent  is  still  shown.^^s 

The  legend  does  not  stop  mid-way:  it  adds  that,  seeing  the 
monastery  inhabited  by  his  sister  upon  the  sea-shore  threat- 
ened by  the  high  tides,  he  made  the  sea  draw  back  four 
thousand  paces,  and  commanded  the  nuns  to  mark  the  new 
boundary  of  the  waters  with  stones,  "  which,  on  the  instant, 
increased  into  great  and  high  rocks,  to  bridle  the  fury  of  the 
waves."  It  is  easy  to  understand  how,  under  the  thatched 
roof  of  the  Celtic  peasant's  hut,  the  works  of  embankment, 
which  were  doubtless  superintended  by  the  Breton  emigrant 
who  was  the  first  bishop  of  the  diocese,  should  be  interpreted 
thus. 

Traditions  relative  to  the  influence  exercised  by  the  monks 
over  the  wild  animals,  not  only  for  their  personal  service, 
but  for  the  advancement  of  their  labors  in  the  clearance  and 

T»ortare  solebat  prout  sustinere  poterat  ligna  deferre."  —  Vita  S.  Maclovii,  c. 
"■S,  ap.  Mabillon. 

^'^  "  Sus  silvatica,  ad  ciijus  ubera  sugentes  dependebant  porcelluli  .  .  . 
ferocissima,  beati  viri  molliter  blandita,  ac  si  prioribus  annis  fuit  edomita, 
deinceps  permansit  domestica,  ita  ut  per  plures  annos  illie  duraverit  progenies 
ejus  inter  reliquos  patriae  porcos  quasi  regalis  et  prsecipua."  —  Bolland,  t. 
ii.  Martii,  pp.  116,  117.  The  same  incident  is  found  in  the  legend  of  St. 
Imier,  founder  of  the  town  of  that  name  in  the  Bernois  Jura.  — Ap.  Trouil- 
LAT,  Monum.  de  VEveche  de  Bale,  i.  p.  37. 

'"^  Ihid.,  p.  118.  With  this  legend  is  connected  the  origin  of  the  house  of 
Kergminadec,  a  proper  name  which  signifies,  in  Breton,  he  who  has  no  fear, 
because  its  progenitor  was  the  only  individual  in  all  the  parish  of  Cleder  who 
dared  to  accompany  St.  Paul  in  his  expedition  against  the  serpent :  "  qua 
Hon  magnam  apuil  nos  fidem  obtinent,"  add  the  prudent  Bollandists. 

VOL.  I.  45 


530  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

cultivation  of  the  country,  abound  especially  in  Arraorica  and 
the  other  Celtic  countries.  Thegonnec,  anotlier  Breton 
abbot,  had  the  materials  for  his  church  carried  by  a  wolf. 
And  Herve,  whom  we  have  just  quoted,  made  a  wolf  labor 
like  an  ox.  "  It  was  wonderful,"  says  the  legend,  "  to  see 
this  wolf  live  in  the  same  stable  with  the  sheep  without  harm- 
ing them,  draw  the  plough,  bear  burdens,  and  do  everything 
else  like  a  domestic  animal."  ^^'-^ 

The  stags  In  tliis  dramatic  struggle  of  the  monks  with  na- 

serviceof  turc,  the  wolvcs,  as  has  been  seen,  played  the  most 
themouks.  habitual  part;  but  the  stags  sometimes  disputed 
with  them  the  first  place  in  these  wonderful  transformations. 
In  Ireland  two  stags  drew  to  its  last  dwelling-place  the  body 
of  Keliac,  hermit  and  bishop,  assassinated  by  his  four  dis- 
ciples, who,  before  murdering  him,  had  kept  him  shut  up  for 
a  whole  night  in  the  hollow  of  an  oak  v\'hich  was  as  large  aa 
a  cavern.^^*^  The  abbey  of  Lancarvan,  in  Cambria,  drew  its 
name  and  origin  from  the  memory  of  two  stags  which  the 
Irish  disciples  of  St.  Cadok  had  yoked  to  a  cart  laden  with 
wood  for  the  raouastery.^^i  Colodocus,  hermit  and 
bishop,  having  refused  to  give  up  a  stag  which  had 
taken  refuge  in  his  hermitage  to  the  noble  who  pursued  it, 
the  furious  hunter  took  away  seven  oxen  and  a  cow  which 
the  solitary  and  his  disciples  used  in  their  labors.  The  next 
morning  eight  stags  came  out  of  the  wood,  and  offered 
themselves  to  the  yoke  to  replace  the  cattle  carried  off  from 
him  who  had  saved  the  life  of  their  companion.^'-^ 
St.  Leonor  The  legend  of  St.  Leonor  follows,  one  of  the  finest 
s"igs\ntiie  pearls  from  the  precious  casket  of  Celtic  tradition, 
plough.  Leonor  was  one  of  those  monk-bishops  who  came 
from  the  British  Islands  in  the  sixth  century  like  Samson, 
Maglorius,  and  Brieuc,  to  evangelize  the  Celts  of  Armorica. 
Having  established  himself  in  a  desert  position,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Rauce,  where  he  and  his  sixty  disciples  could  live  only 
on  the  produce  of  the  chase  and  fisheries,  he  saw  one  day, 
when  praying,  a  little  white  bird  settle  at  his  feet,  which 
carried  in  its  beak  an  ear  of  corn.  "  There  was,  thee,  upon 
this  wild  waste  some  spot  where  corn  could  grow,  where 
even  some  ears  of  corn  were  growing."     The  saint  thanked 

^'*  Albert  le  Grand,  p.  193. 

aso  44  jjj  vasti  roboris  caudicem,  ad  caveae  similitudinem  vacuatura,  com- 
pingunt."  —  BoLLAND.,  t.  i.  Maii,  p.  106. 

'^^'  La  Villemarqoe,  op.  cit.,  p.  156. 

"-  Albert  le  Grand,  Vie  de  St.  Ke  ou  Kenan,  surnomme  Colodoc^ 
p.  677. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  531 

God,  and  directed  one  of  his  monks  to  follow  the  bird,  who 
led  him  to  a  glade  in  the  neigliboring-  forest,  where  some 
plants  of  wlieat  had  been  preserved  by  re-sowing  themselves 
—  the  last  remnant,  perhaps,  of  a  rich  cultivation  which  had 
disappear?  \  from  these  regions  with  the  inhabitants  who 
brought  it  there.  At  this  news  the  saint  intoned  the  2^e 
Deum;  and  the  next  morning,  at  break  of  day,  having  first 
sung  matins,  all  the  commuftity  took  the  road,  with  Lconor 
at  their  head,  towards  the  forest,  to  cat  it  down.  This  woi'k 
lasted  long:  ti\e  monks,  overcome  by  fatigue,  entreated  their 
father  to  abandon  that  overwhelming  task,  and  to  seek  other 
soil  less  hard  to  labor.  He  refused  to  listen  to  them,  telling 
them  it  was  the  devil  who  sent  to  them  that  temptation  to 
idleness.  But  it  was  still  worse  when,  the  forest  cut  down, 
the  cleared  soil  had  to  be  cultivated.  Then  the  monks  re- 
solved to  leave  their  leadei"  there,  and  fly  during  the  night. 
But  they  were  reassured  and  i;onsoled  by  seeing  twelve 
noble  stags  coming  of  themselves  to  be  yoked  to  the  ploughs, 
like  so  many  pairs  of  oxen.  After  having  ploughed  all  da}'", 
when  they  were  loos^^^d  in  the  uvening,  they  returned  to  their 
lair  in  the  depth  of  tlie  vv'uod,  but  only  to  return  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  next  day.  This  lasted  tor  five  weeks  and  three 
days,  until  the  new  fields  were  prepared  to  yield  an  abundant 
harvest.  After  which  the  twelve  stags  disappeared,  carrying 
with  them  the  blessing  of  the  bishop  emigrant.^^^ 

The  BoUandists,  with  their  habitual  prudence,  take  care 
to  make  a  protest  of  their  incredulity  with  respect  to  these 
travesties  of  historic  truth.^^*  An  ingenious  and'  learned 
man  of  our  own  times  has  pointed  out  their  true  and  legiti- 
mate  origin.  According  to  him,  alter  the  gradual  disappear- 
ance of  the  Gallo-Roman  population,  the  oxen,  horses,  and 
dogs  had  returned  to  a  savage  state,  and  it  was  in  the  forests 
that  the  British  missionaries  had  to  seek  these  animals  to 
employ  them  anew  for  domestic  uses.  The  miracle  consisted 
in  restoring  to  man  the  empire  and  use  of  the  creatures 
which  God  had  given  him  for  instruments.  This  re-domesti- 
cation of  animals  which  had  relapsed  into  a  savage  condition, 

223  ((  Ecce  unus  passer  candidissimus  spicam  frumenti  in  ore  tenens.  .  .  . 
Cceperunt  lassi  deficere.  .  .  .  Pater,  oramus  te  ut  de  loco  isto  recedas.  .  .  . 
Fessi  priE  nimio  labore.  .  ,  .  Duodccim  grandissimos  cervos.  .  .  .  Dei  vir- 
tute  domesticos.  .  .  .  Benedicens  dixit :  Ite  in  pace.  .  .  .  Densissimas  sylvas 
expetunt."  —  Bolland.,  t.  i.  Jul.,  pp.  121,  126.  Compare  La  Borderie, 
Disccurs  sur  les  Saints  Bretons. 

'^^  Comment.  Pr«v.,  No.  9. 


532  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

is  one  of  the  most  interesting  episodes  in  the  civilizing  mis- 
sion of  the  ancient  cenobites.^^^ 

A-i-icuitu-  However,  their  whole  existence  in  the  forests 
••"Ji'ibors  was  a  series  of  painful  and  persevering  labors,  of 
monks  in  which  posterity  and  the  neighboring  populations 
the  forests,  ^^^j.g  ^^  reap  the  benefit.  The  mere  clearance  of  the 
forests,  undertaken  successively  in  all  quarters  of  Gaul,  and 
pursued  with  unwearied  constancy  by  the  spade  and  axe  of 
the  monk,  was  of  the  greatest  service  to  future  generations. 
The  destruction  of  the  woods,  which  has  now  become  alarm- 
ing, and  even  in  some  cases  a  real  calamity,  was  then  the 
first  of  necessities.  It  was,  besides,  carried  on  with  prudence 
and  moderation  Ages  passed  before  the  scarcity  of  wood 
was  felt,  even  in  the  sad  southern  provinces,  from  which 
woodland  growth  seems  to  have  disappeared  forever ;  and 
during  these  ages  the  monks  continued  without  intermission 
to  cut  down  the  great  masses  of  forest  —  to  pierce  them,  to 
divide  them,  to  open  them  up,  and  even  to  make  great  clear- 
ings here  and  there,  which  continually  increased,  and  were 
put  into  regular  cultivation.  They  carried  labor,  fertility, 
human  strength  and  intelligence  into  those  solitudes  which 
till  then  had  been  abandoned  to  wild  beasts,  and  to  the  dis- 
order of  spontaneous  vegetation.  They  devoted  their  entire 
life  to  transforming  into  rich  pastures  and  fields  carefully 
sown  and  ploughed,  a  soil  which  was  bristling  with  woods 
and  thickets. 

It  was  not  a  pleasant,  short,  or  easy  task :  to  accomplish 
it,  all  the  energy  of  wills  freely  submitted  to  faith,  all  the 
perseverance  produced  b}^  the  spirit  of  association,  joined  to 
a  severe  discipline,  was  needed.  This  persevering  energy 
never  failed  them.  Nowhere  did  they  draw  back,  or  restore 
voluntarily  to  the  desert  that  which  they  had  once  undertaken 
to  reclaim.  On  the  contrary,  we  see  them  reach  the  extreme 
limit  of  human  power  in  their  field  labors  and  the  standing- 
ground  they  gained  ;  disputing  with  the  ice,  the  sand,  and 
the  rocks,  the  last  fragments  of  soil  that  could  be  cultivated ; 
installing  themselves  sometimes  in  marshes,  up  to  that  time 
supposed  inaccessible  ;  sometimes  among  firwoods  laden  with 
hoarfrost  the  whole  year  through.  Sometimes  it  was  neces- 
sary to  have  recourse  to  fire  as  the  means  of  opening  a  road 
through  the  wood,  and  getting  rid  of  the  old  trunks  which 
would  have  rendered  all  cultivation  impossible.     But  most 

'**  La  Bordekie,  op.  cit. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  533 

generally  it  was  spade  in  hand  that  they  went  before  to  clear 
a  space  of  soil  sufficient  to  be  sown  or  to  become  a  meadow. 
They  began  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  primitive 
Qg]]^226  generally  placed  near  a  water-course,  which  helped 
in  the  formation  of  meadows.  By  degrees  the  clearing  ex- 
tended further,  and  even  into  the  thickest  shades.  Great 
oaks  fell  to  be  replaced  by  harvest.  These  monks,  most  of 
whom  had  studied  literature,  were  doubtless  reminded  theu 
of  the  fine  verses  of  Lucan  — 

"  Tunc  omnia  late 
Procurabunt  nemora  et  spoliantur  robore  silvae  .  .   . 
Sed  fortes  trenmere  nianus,  raotique  verenda 
Maj estate  loci  ... 

Procunibunt  onii,  nodosa  inipellitur  ilex  .  .  . 
Tunc  primum  posuere  comas,  et  fronde  carentes 
Admisere  diem,  propulsaque  robore  denso 
Sustinuit  se  silva  cadens."  ^^' 

The  humble  prose  of  our  monastic  annals  repioduces  this 
picture  a  hundred  times  in  Latin  less  pure  and  less  magnifi- 
cent, but  which  has,  nevertheless,  the  powerful  charm  of  re- 
ality and  simplicity.    When  St.  Brieuc  and  his  eigh-  cij.,jr,^Q(,g 
ty  monks  from  Great  Britain  landed  in  Armorica,  and   made  by 
marked  the  site  on  which  the  town  which  afterwards   an'dins 
bore  his  name  was  erected,  they  proceeded,  like  the  ^'^"^^p'^®- 
soldiers  of  Caesar,  into  the  forests  sacred  to  the  Druids.  They 
surveyed  the  ancient  woods  at  first  with  curiosity,  says  the 
chronicle  ;  they  searched  on  all   sides  through  these  imme- 
morial shades.     They  reached  at  last  a  valley  branching  out 
to  either  hand,  the  sides  of  which  were  everywhere  clothed 
with  fresh  foliage,  and  divided  by  a  transparent  stream.    Im- 
mediately they  all  set  to  work:  the}' overthrew  the   great 
trees,  they  rooted   out  the  copse,  they  cut  down  the  brush- 
wood and  undergrowth ;  in  a  short  time  they  had  converted 
the  impenetrable  thicket  into  an  open  plain.     This  done,  they 
had  recourse  to  the  spade  and  hoe;  they  dug  and  weeded 
the   soil,  and  wrought  it   with   minute   care,  thus   putting  it 
into  a  condition  to  produce  abundant  harvests.^^^ 

226  u  j^  medio  vastsa  eremi  atque  condensse.  .  .  .  Cum  monacbis  suis  sil- 
vam  succidere  .  .  .  certabat  ut  planitiem  parare  aliquam  posset  aptain  jaci- 
endis  seminibus."  —  Vita  S.  Launom.,  c.  8,  10. 

2"  Pharsalia,  iii.  39i-445. 

228  ((  lllustrantibus  illis  arboreta  maxima  curiosius,  annosaque  fruteta  cir- 
cumquaque  perscrutantibus  in  vallem  binam  deveniunt.  .  .  .  Vallem  nemo- 
rum  amoeuitate  confertam  perambulans,  fontem  lucidissimum,  aquis  prospi- 
cuum.  .  ,  .  Accinguntur  omnes  operi,  diruunt  arbores,  succidunt  fruteta, 
avellunt  vepres  spinarumque  coiigeriem,  silvamque  densissimam  in  brevi 
reducunt  in  planitiem.  .  .  .  Vellebant  plerumque  glebas  ligonibus  :  exole- 

45* 


534  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

Frequently  they  replaced  the  forest  trees  with 
fruit-trees ;  like  that  Telio,  a  British  monk,  who 
planted  with  his  own  hands,  aided  by  St.  Samson,  an  immense 
orchard,  or,  as  the  legend  says,  a  true  forest  of  fruit-trees, 
three  miles  in  extent,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Dol.^^^  To  him 
is  attributed  the  introduction  of  the  apple-tree  into  Armorica, 
where  cider  continues  the  national  beverage.  Others  planted 
vines  in  a  favorable  exposure,  and  succeeded  in  ac- 

V  illGS  1...  .. 

climatizing  it  in  those  northern  districts  of  Gaul 
afterwards  known  as  Brittany,  Normandy,  and  Picardy, 
where  the  inhabitants  have  not  succeeded  in  preserving  it.^^*^ 
They  also  gave  particular  attention  to  the  care  of  bees,  as 
has  been  already  testified  by  the  agreement  between  the 
Abbot  of  Dol  and  the  Bishop  of  Paris.'-^^i  ]vjo  trade  seemed 
too  hard  for  them,  those  of  the  carpenter  and  mason  being  as 
Various  readily  adopted  as  those  of  the  Avood-cutter  and  gar- 
labors.  deucr.  One  ground,  in  the  mill  which  he  had  him- 
self made,  the  wheat  which  he  was  to  eat;^^^  another  hol- 
lowed out  a  reservoir  of  stone  round  the  fountain  which  he 
had  discovered,  or  which  had  sprung  up  in  answer  to  his 
prayers,  that  others  miglit  enjoy  it  after  him;^^^  and  grate- 
ful posterity  has  taken  care  not  to  forget  either  the  benefit 
or  the  benefactor. 

All  these  men  had  the  text  of  the  Apostle  always  on  their 
lips,  "  If  any  will  not  work,  neither  let  him  eat ;  "  and  that 
of  the  Psalmist,  "  Thou  shalt  eat  the  labor  of  thine  hands." 
These  texts  are  perpetually  appealed  to  in  their  legends,  and 
justly,  for  they  are  an  epitome  of  their  doctrine  and  life. 

The  influence  of  such  labors  and  examples  rapid- 

o?tiieir''cx-  ly  made  itself  felt  upon  the  rustic  populations  who 

thp'rurai*""  Hvcd  in  the  neighborln)od  of  this  new  cultivation, 

popuia-        or  who  followed  the  solitaries  into  the  forest  to  see 

their  works  and  to  find  in  them  guides  and  protec- 

batur  deinceps  humus  siirculis.  sulcisque  minutissinie  exaratis."  —  Vie  de  S. 
Bi-ietic,  by  tlie  canon  of  La  Devison,  1G27,  quoted  by  La  Borderie. 

22rf  li  Magnum  nonms."  Tliis  orclnird  still  existed  in  the  twelfth  century, 
under  the  name  o{  Arboictwni  Ttliavi  Sansonis.  — La  Bordkrie,  op.cit.,  p. 39. 

230  "  x^arva  vitis  hie  inventa  i'.tqiie  exculta." —  Vita  S.  Karilefi,  c.  16. 
"  Quo  tempore  a  climate  meridiaiio  di.-tantem  a  prsefato  coenobio  passus  fere 
quiugentos.  .  .  .  B.  \\  andrcj^igilus  viueum  plantare  et  excolere  ccepit."  — 
Vita  S.  Ansperti,  ell. 

*•"'  See  above,  p.  474.  Compare  Vita  S.  Paiili,  ap.  Bolland.,  t.  ii.  Mart., 
p.  121 ;    Vita  S.  Amati,  ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii. 

^^*    Vita   S-  Gildasii,  ap.  La  Borueuil,  loc.  cit. 

"■**  •'  Quern  fontem  .  .  .  manu  sua,  ut  aquai  retentor  esset,  terrestri  cir- 
cunidedit  ledificio,  et  hactenus  ob  amorem  iliius  a  devotis  non  ignobili  tegitur 
operculo." —  ]^itj  S   Karilji,  c.  9. 


THE  FIRST  MEKOVINGIANS.  535 

tors.  From  admiration  the  peasants  i^hidly  passed  to  imita- 
tioD.  Often  they  became  the  voluntary  coadjutors  of  the 
monks,  andj  without  embracing  monastic  hfe,  aided  them  to 
clear  the  ground  and  build  their  dwellings.^^*  Sometimes 
the  brigands  themselves,  who  at  tirst  had  sought  their  lives, 
or  attempted  to  interdict  them  from  entering  the  forest, 
ended  by  becoming  agriculturists  after  their  example.^ss  The 
rapid  increase  of  rural  population  in  the  neighborhood 
of  monastic  establishments  is  thus  explained,  and  also  the 
immense  amount  of  labor  which  the  cenobites  could  under- 
take, the  results  of  which  exist  and  astonish  us  still. 

The  richest  districts  of  France  trace  their  prosperity  to 
this  origin:  witness,  amongst  a  thousand  other  places,  that 
portion  of  La  Brie  between  Meaux  and  Jouarre,  once  covered 
by  a  vast  forest,  the  first  inhabitant  of  which  was  the  Irish 
monk  Fiacre,  whose   name   still   continues  popular,   c.  ,,. 

di  -I  ,  ,      .   1      J^  '    St.  Fiacre 

whom  our    gardeners    honor    as    their    patron   and  his 

saint,  probably  without  knowing  anything  whatever  °"'"''''"- 
of  his  history.  He  had  obtained  from  the  Bishop  of  Meaux, 
who  was  the  holder  of  this  forest,  permission  to  cut  the  wood 
which  covered  so  much  soil  as  he  could  surround  with  a 
ditch  by  one  day's  labor,  in  order  to  make  a  garden  of  it,  and 
cultivate  roots  for  poor  travellers.  Long  after,  the  peasants 
of  the  environs  showed  this  ditch,  six  times  longer  than  was 
expected,  and  told  how  the  Irish  saint  had  taken  his  stick  and 
traced  a  line  upon  the  soil  which  sank  into  a  ditch  under  the 
point,  while  the  great  forest  trees  fell  right  and  left,  as  if  to 
save  him  the  trouble  of  cutting  them  down.^^s  Thus  was  in- 
terpreted the  profound  impression  produced  by  the  labors  of 
these  monastic  pioneers  upon  the  minds  of  the  people. 

The  same  occurrence  is  attributed  to  St.  Goeznou,  a  Brit- 
ish  emigrant,  and  Bishop  of  Leon,  who,  havino-  re-  ..,,    ,.  , 

J    r  J.      r-  ^t  ,  I  . ,.  ,.  rhe  ditch 

ceived  trom  a  count  of  the  country  the  gilt  "  ot  as  ofst.Goez- 
much  land  to  build  a  monastery  as  he  could  enclose  "*^"' 
with  ditches  in  one  day,  took  a  fork,  and,  trailing  it  along  the 
earth,  walked  for  nearly  two   hours  of  Brittany,  forming  a 
square  ;  and  as  he   trailed  this  fork,  the  earth  divided  ono 

^^*  "  Circa  illius  erenii  .  .  .  quidaui  hoiuinum  rustical!  opere  tenuem  sus- 
tentantes  vitani  habitabant.  .  .  .  Dei  famulum  saepius  invisere  curabant  .  .  . 
quo  et  ffidificandi  monasterii  adjulores  forent."  —  Vita  S.  Karilefi,  c.  2Q. 

^^  "Multi  ejusdein  silvse  Jatrones  ...  aut  fiebant  uionachi  .  .  .  aut 
deserentes  latrocinia  efficiebantur  cultores  agri."  —  Vita  S.  Ebrvlfi,  c.  11. 

236  "  Tractu  baculi  terra  dehiscens  natebat,  et  nemus  bine  et  iiide  funditus 
corruebat.  .  .  .  Fossata  vero  usque  in  hodiernura  diem  ab  incolis  deinim- 
strantur."  — Mabill.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.  p.  673. 


536  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

part  from  the  other,  and  formed  a  great  ditch,  separating  the 
lands  given  from  those  of  the  giver,  which  enclosure  has  al- 
ways been  held  in  such  reverence  that  of  old  it  served  as  an 
asylum  and  place  of  refuge  to  malefactors."  ^^' 

In  addition  to  these  legends,  born  of  the  popular  imagina- 
tion and  the  grateful  memory  of  ancient  generations,  it  is 
pleasant  to  appeal  to  more  certain  witnesses  by  following 
upon  our  modern  maps  the  traces  of  monastic  labor  through 
the  forests  of  ancient  France,  and  by  observing  a  multi- 
lade  of  localities,  the  mere  names  of  which  indicate  wooded 
districts  evidently  transformed  into  fields  and  plains  by 
the  monks.^2^ 

St  Calais  ^^  ^^  ^^^  authentic    narrativ^e  of  a  real  incident 

and  his         that  WO  should  SCO  iu  that  chapter  of  the  life  of  the 

Abbot  Karilef,  where  it  is  said  that  this  saint,  mov- 
ing with  his  spade  the  ground  he  dug  round  his  cell  in  the 
forest  of  Perche,  discovered  a  treasure  there,  over  which  he 
rejoiced  ardently  with  his  brethren,  because  it  gave  hirn  the 
means  at  once  of  helping  exiles  and  pilgrims,  and  of  reward- 
ing the  poor  peasants  who  had  helped  to  build  his  oratory  ? 
Or  is  it  not  rather  the  symbolical  form  in  which  the  admira- 
tion of  the  people  at  the  sight  of  so  many  works,  undertaken 
on  such  feeble  resources,  followed  by  results  so  excellent, 
and  elevated  by  a  charity  so  generous,  has  found  expression  ? 
It  is  added  that  the  abbot  and  his  disciples  labored  with  the 
spade  because  they  had  no  means  of  working  with  the 
plough, 23^ 

But  the  plough  was  not  long  wanting  to  them  anywhere. 
It  was  natural  that  it  should  be  the  principal  instrument  of 
monastic  culture ;  and  it  may  be  said,  without  exaggeration, 

that  it  formed,  along  with  the  cross  of  the  Redeemer, 

riieodiiip'h    the  ensign  and  emblazonry  of  the  entire  history  of 

piou'"h.        the  monks  during  these  early  ages.      Cruce  et  ara- 

■~        tro  !     In  it  is  summed  up  the  life  of  one  of  the  great 

monks  of  the  sixth  century,  of  whom  we  have  yet  to 
speak.     Theodulph,  born  in  Aquitaine,  had  issued  from  a  long 

"'  Albert  le  Grand,  p.  660,  after  the  ancient  Breviary  of  Leon. 

'••^  See  some  valuable  indications  given,  from  the  map  of  Cassini  and  a 
multitude  of  ancient  and  contemporary  authors,  by  M.  Alfred  Maury,  iu  chap. 
V.  of  his  able  and  curious  book,  Les  ForSts  de  la  France. 

239  (.i  (2;um  quadam  die  coactis  fratribus  .  .  .  agriculturse  in  preedio  jam 
dicto  insisteret,  ac  rostro  terram  verteret  (deerat  namque  illis  arandi  copia) 
.  .  .  terras  glebam  saculo  detrahens,  thesaurum  latentem  detcxit.  En,  optiuii 
conimilitones,  qualiter  nostri  misericordis  Creatoris  donis  suis  nostram  ex- 
iguitatem  nobiiitat"  —  Vita  S.  Karilefi,  c.  22.  This  is  the  last  time  we 
Bhall  quote  this  narrative  so  complete  and  ciirious. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  537 

line  of  ancestors  illustrious  for  nobility  as  well  us  for 
piety.  Having  become  a  uaonk  at  St.  Thierry,  near  Reims, 
he  was  specially  desirous  to  be  employed  in  the  agri- 
cultural labors  of  the  monastery  :  two  oxen  were  intrusted 
to  him,  whom  he  led  iu  the  plough  for  twenty-two  years. 
With  this  3'oke  he  did  as  much  work  as  other  teams  accom- 
plished with  two,  three,  or  even  four  of  the  brethren.  There 
might  be  some  who  doubted  the  good  sense  of  a  man  so  fool- 
ish as  to  employ  his  life  in  such  labors,  and  to  brave  all  the 
intemperance  of  the  seasons  like  a  simple  peasant,  instead  of 
living  like  his  ancestors  on  the  fruit  of  his  subjects'  labor. 
But  all  admired  such  a  laborer,  still  more  unwearied  than  his 
oxen ;  for  while  they  rested  he  replaced  the  plough  by  the 
mattock,  the  harrow,  or  the  spade ;  and  when  he  returned  to 
the  monastery  after  days  so  well  occupied,  he  was  always 
first  in  the  services  and  psalmody  of  the  night.  After  these 
twenty-two  years  of  ploughing  he  was  elected  abbot  of  his 
community.  Then  the  inhabitants  of  the  nearest  village  took 
his  plough,  and  hung  it  up  in  their  church  as  a  relic.  It  was 
so,  in  fact ;  a  noble  and  holy  relic  of  one  of  those  lives  of  per- 
petual labor  and  superhuman  virtue,  whose  example  has 
happily  exercised  a  more  fruitful  and  lasting  influence  than 
that  of  the  proudest  conquerors.  It  seems  to  me  that  we 
should  all  contemplate  with  emotion,  if  it  still  existed,  that 
monk's  plough,  doubly  sacred,  by  religion  and  by  labor,  by 
history  and  by  virtue.  For  myself,  I  feel  that  I  should  kiss 
It  as  willingly  as  the  sword  of  Charlemagne  or  the  pen  of 
Bossuet. 

These  same  peasants  of  the  neighborhood  of  Reims  also 
admired  in  their  simplicity  a  great  old  tree:  it  was  said  to 
have  grown  from  the  goad  which  the  Abbot  Theodulph  used 
to  prick  on  his  oxen,  and  which  he  had  one  day  stuck  into 
the  ground,  when,  leading  them  from  the  monastery,  he 
paused  on  the  roadside  to  mend  his  damaged  plough.^^*^ 

When  he  became  abbot,  Theodulph  redoubled  his  activity 

240  li  Effulsit  prosapia  sua  .  .  .  aulicorura  optimatuni  generositate  .  .  . 
honestati  niiijorum  suoruni  jam  uniebatur  .  .  .  religionis  velut  ex  lineari 
suocessione.  .  .  .  Juvenoos  binos,  cum  quibus  ipsi  agriculturis  insudavit 
bis  undecim  annos  .  .  .  pro  variis  passionibus  aeris  ct  commotiouibus  tein- 
porum.  .  .  .  Infatigabilis  cum  infatigabilibus.  .  .  .  Ut  cum  pauluui  aratro 
indulgeret,  rostro  manuuni  insisteret.  .  .  .  Mundus  ista  bominis  n(m  saiii 
capitis  esse  judicabat,  cum  iiis  potius  agricolis  dominari  ille  ex  progenitoruna 
usu  debuisset.  .  .  .  I>JtercQenobium  et  villam  Melfigiam  .  .  .  stimulo  spinea 
terras  infixo  .  .  .  agricola  sanctus  aratri  correctione  opportune  incubuit."  - 
BoLLAND.,  t.  i.  Mail,  p.  97. 


538  THE  MONKS  UNDER 

in  bis  devotion  to  all  the  duties  of  his  charge,  and  to  those 
which  he  imposed  upon  himself  in  addition,  in  building  a 
new  church  in  honor  of  St.  Hilary.  He  was  specially  assid- 
uous in  the  services  of  the  monastery,  and  exacted  the  same 
diligence  from  all  the  monks.  The  latter  were  not  all  ani- 
mated by  a  zeal  so  impatient  of  repose.  As  both  abbot  and 
monks  cherished  the  recollections  of  classic  antiquity,  one 
of  the  Religious  once  brought  forward  to  him  this  verse  of 
Horace  :  — 

"  Quod  caret  alterna  requie  durabile  non  est;  " 

to  whom  Theodulph  answered  that  it  was  very  well  for 
pagans,  too  careful  of  their  own  comfort,  but  that  as  for  him, 
he  preferred  that  other,  and  equally  classic  text:  — 

"  Nil  sine  magno 
Vita  labore  dedit  mortalibus."  ^'" 

Labor  and  prayer  formed  the  double  sphere  in  which  the 
existence  of  the  monastic  colonizers  always  flowed,  and  the 
double  end  of  their  long  and  unwearied  efforts.  But  they 
certainly'  did  not  think  it  sufEcient  to  initiate  the  rustic 
population  of  Frankish  Gaul  in  the  laborious  habits  and  best 
Solicitude  proccsses  of  agriculture.  They  had  still  more  at 
of  the  heart  the    cultivation  of   so  many  souls    infinitely 

tiie  spirit-  prccious  iQ  the  eyes  of  God  and  of  the  servants 
t^sort*iTe*  of  God.  By  their  example  and  exhortations,  by 
pensants.  their  vigilant  charity,  and  at  the  same  time  by  their 
oral  instruction,  they  dug  in  those  rude  hearts  the  deep  fur- 
rows where  they  sowed  abundantly  the  seeds  of  virtue  and 
eternal  life.  To  their  example,  and  above  all  to  their  in- 
fluence, the  beneficent  solicitude  of  the  provincial  Councils 
of  Gaul  for  the  spiritual  instruction  of  the  rural  population 
Council  of  must  be  attributed.  **  The  priests,"  says  the  Council 
Kouen^        of  Roucn,  "  must  warn  their  parishioners  that  they 

C50.  ought  to  permit  or  cause  their  neatherds,  swineherds, 
and  other  herdsmen,  their  ploughmen,  and  those  who  are  con- 
tinually in  the  fields  or  woods,  and  live  there  like  the  ani- 
mals, to  attend  mass,  on  Sundays  and  holidays  at  least. 
Those  who  neglect  this  shall  have  to  answer  for  their  souls, 
and  shall  have  to  render  a  severe  account.  For  the  Lord 
when  he  came    upon  the  earth  did  not  choose  orators  or 

*"  *'  Erat  namque  quietis  impatiens  .  .  .  duplicabat  cursuiii  laboris  sui 
et  oflScii.  .  .  .  lllius  notissimi  auctoris  dictum  .  .  .  sibi  parcentiuQj  ethui- 
corum  remissioni."  —  Bolland.,  t.  i.  Maii,  p.  97. 


THE  FIRST  MEROVINGIANS.  539 

nobles  for  his  disciples,  but  fishers  and  men  of  the  humblest 
class  ;  and  it  was  not  to  high  intelligences,  but  to  the  poor 
shepherds,  that  the  angel  announced  in  the  first  place  the 
nativity  of  our  Lord."  2*^ 

But  how  could  they  have  supplied  the  spiritual  necessities 
of  all  that  population  of  shepherds  and  laborers,  not  numer- 
ous, and  spread  over  immense  regions  not  more  than  half 
inhabited,  if  the  monks  had  not  come  to  second  and  succeed 
the  secular  clergy,  establishing  among  them  at  a  thousand 
different  points,  and  precisely  in  the  quarters  least  accessi- 
ble, their  cells  and  oratories?  These  oratories  in  time  be- 
oamo  churches;  the  cottages  of  the  peasants  gathered  round 
them ;  the  latter  were  henceforth  sure  of  sharing  in  all  the 
benefits  of  spiritual  paternity,  conferred  upon  them  by  men 
often  issuing  from  the  noblest  and  most  powerful  races 
among  the  masters  and  conquerors  of  the  country,  who 
voluntarily  shared  their  fatigues  and  privations,  who  led  a 
life  as  hard  as,  and  even  harder  than,  theirs,  and  who  asked 
01  them,  in  exchange  for  such  services  and  examples,  only 
that  they  should  join  them  in  praising  the  Lord. 

Our  solitaries,  thus  becoming,  often  against  their  will,  the 
fathers  and  leaders  of  a  numerous  progeny,  saw  themselves 
surrounded  by  a  double  family,  that  of  their  disciples  and  that 
of  their  dependents,  the  monastic  and  the  rustic  community, 
both  united  by  faith,  labor,  and  common  prayer.  From,  the 
midst  of  forests  so  long  unapproachable,  and  deserts  hencefor- 
ward repoopied,  arose  everywhere  the  hymn  of  joy, 
gratitude,  and  adoration.  The  prophecy  of  Isaiah  JaJftSe?* 
was  verified  under  their  very  ej'es  for  them  and  by 
them: — "Ye  shall  go  out  with  joy,  and  be  led  forth  with 
peace :  the  mountains  and  the  hills  shall  break  forth  before 
you  into  singing,  and  all  the  trees  of  the  field  shall  clap  their 
hands.  Listead  of  the  thorn  shall  come  up  the  fir-tree,  and 
instead  of  the  brier  shall  come  up  the  myrtle-tree :  and  it 
shall  be  to  the  Lord  for  a  name,  for  an  everlasting  sign  that 
shall  not  be  cut  off."  243 

''*'■'  "  Admonere  debent  sacerdotes  plebes  subditas  sibi  ut  bubulcos  atque 
porcarios,  vfl  alios  pastores,  vel  aratores,  qvliii  agris  assidue  commoraniur, 
vel  in  silvis,  et  idea  velut  more  pecudum  vivunt,  in  dominicis  et  in  aliis  festis 
diebus  saltein  vel  ad  missani  faciani  vel  permittant  venire  :  nam  et  hos  Cbris- 
liis  pretioso  suo  sanguine  redemit.  Quod  sineglexerint,  pro  animabus  eorum 
absque  dubio  rationeni  se  reddituros  sciant.  Siquidein  Dominus  veniens  in 
hunc  nuinduni  non  elegit  oratores  atque  nol)iliores  quosque,  sed  piscatores 
atque  idiotas  sibi  discipulos  ascivit.  .  .  .  Et  salva  altiore  intelligentia,  na- 
tivitas  nostri  Redemptoris  pnnio  omnium  pastoribus  ab  angelo  nunciatur."  — 
CoLETTi  Concilia,  t.  vii.  p.  40(j. 

'■'^^   ISilAH,  Iv.  12,  13. 


540        THE  MONKS  UNDER  THE  FIEST  MEROVINGIANS. 

And  are  not  we  tempted  soraetimes  to  give  ear  and  listen 
whether  some  faint  echo  of  that  delightful  harmony  does  not 
float  across  the  ocean  of  time?  Certainly  earth  has  never 
raised  to  heaven  a  sweeter  concert  than  that  of  so  many  pure 
and  pious  voices  full  of  faith  and  enthusiasm,  rising  from  the 
glades  of  the  ancient  forests,  from  the  sides  of  rocks,  and 
from  the  banks  of  waterfalls  or  torrents,  to  celebrate  their 
new-born  happiness,  like  the  birds  under  the  leaves,  or  like 
our  dear  little  children  in  their  charming  lispings,  when  they 
greet  with  joyful  and  innocent  confidence  the  dawn  of  a  day 
in  which  they  foresee  neither  storms  nor  decline. 

The  Church  has  known  days  more  resplendent  and  more 
solemn,  days  better  calculated  to  raise  the  admiration  of 
sages,  the  fervor  of  pious  souls,  and  the  unshaken  confidence 
of  her  children ;  but  I  know  not  if  she  has  ever  breathed  forth 
a  charm  more  touching  and  pure  than  in  the  spring-time  of 
monastic  life. 

In  that  Gaul  which  had  borne  for  five  centuries  the  igno- 
minious yoke  of  the  Ceesars,  which  had  groaned  under  Bar- 
barian invasions,  and  where  everj^thing  still  breathed  blood, 
fire,  and  carnage,  Christian  virtue,  watered  by  the  spirit  of 
penitence  and  sacrifice,  began  to  bud  everywhere.  Every- 
where faith  seemed  to  blossom  like  flowers  after  the  winter ; 
everywhere  moral  life  revived  and  budded  like  the  verdure 
of  the  woods  ;  everywhere  under  the  ancient  arches  of  the 
Druidical  forests  was  celebrated  the  fresh  betrothal  of  the 
Church  with  the  Frankish  people. 


/ 


BOOK   VII. 


8T.  COLUMBANUS.-THE  IRISH  IN  GAUL  AND  THE  COLONIES 
OF  LUXEUIL 


SUMMARY. 

Ireland,  converted  by  two  slaves,  becomes  Christian  without  having  been 
Roman.  —  Legend  of  St.  Patrick  :  the  bards  and  the  slaves ;  St.  Brid- 
get; the  light  of  Kildare.  —  The  Irish  monasteries  :  Bangor;  St.  Luan.  — 
Tlie  Irish  missionaries.  —  Birth  and  Education  of  St.  Columbanus ; 
his  mission  in  Gaul;  his  sojourn  at  Annegray;  the  wolves  and  the  Supve 
brigands.  —  He  settles  at  Luxeuil ;  state  of  Sequania :  great  influx  of  dis- 
ciples ;  Laus  perennis.  —  Episcopal  opposition  :  haughty  letter  of  Colum- 
banus  to  a  council.  —  His  struggle  with  Brunehault  and  Thierry  II. 
St.  Martin  of  Autun  founded  by  Brunehault :  first  expulsion  of  Colum- 
banus ;  the  young  Agilus ;  Columbanus  at  Besan^on  ;  return  to  Luxeuil. 

—  He  is  again  expelled  :  his  voyage  on  the  Loire ;  arrival  at  Nantes ;  let- 
ter to  the  monks  at  Luxeuil.  —  He  go^"  to  Clotaire  II.,  King  of  Neustria, 
and  to  Theodebert  II.,  King  of  Austrasia.  — H'3  mission  to  the  Alamans; 
St.  Gall ;  the  dialogue  of  the  demons  on  the  laK<»  —  He  abandons  the  con- 
version of  the  Sclaves,  and  returns  to  TheodebP'-* ;  defeat  and  death  of 
this  king.  —  Columbanus  crosses  the  Alps  and  pass^'o  Into  Lombardy.  — 
He  founds  Bobbio;  his  poems;  his  remonstrances  with  "Pope  Boniface  IV. 

—  Clotaire  II.  recalls  him  to  Gaul:  he  refuses  and  dies.—  He  was  neither 
the  enemy  of  kings  nor  of  popes.  —  Rule  of  Columbakcs!  the  Feni- 
tentiaL 

Disciples  of  Columbanus  in  Italy  and  Helvetia.  —  His  successors  at  Bob- 
bio:  Attalus  and  Bertulph;  the  Arian  Ariowald  and  the  monk  Blidulf. — 
Abbey  of  Dissentis  in  Rhetia :  St.  Sigisbert.  —  St.  Gall  separates  from 
Columbanus ;  origin  of  the  abbey  called  by  his  name ;  the  demons  again. 

—  Princess  Frideburga  and  her  betrothed.  —  Gall  is  reconciled  to  Colum- 
banus and  dies. 

Influence,  preponderance,  and  prosperitt  of  Luxeuil  under  St.  Eu- 
stace, first  successor  of  Columbanus.  —  Luxeuil  becomes  the  monastic 
capital  of  Gaul  and  the  first  school  of  Christianity :  bishops  and  saints 
issue  from  Luxeuil:  Hermenfried  of  "Verdun.  —  Schism  of  Agrestin  sub- 
nued  at  the  Council  of  M^con ;  the  Irish  tonsure ;  Note  on  Bishop  Faron 
and  his  wife.  —  The  Benedictine  rule  adopted  in  conjunction  with  the 

\oi>.  L  46  541 


542  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

institution  of  Luxeuil.  —  The  double  consulate.  —  St.  Walbert,  tliinl  abbot 
of  Luxeuil.  —  Exemption  accorded  by  Pope  John  IV. 

Colonies  of  Luxeuil  in  the  two  Burgundies :  St.  Desle  <at  Lure  and  Clo- 
taire  IL  —  The  ducal  family  of  St.  Donatus  :  Romainmoutier  re-estab- 
lished; the  nuns  of  Jussaraoutier;  Beze ;  Bregille. — The  abbot  Herraen- 
fried  at  Cusance :  lie  kisses  the  hands  of  the  husbandmen. 

Colonies  of  Luxeuil  in  Rauracia :  St.  Ursanne ;  St.  Germain  of  Grandval, 
first  martyr  of  the  Columbanlc  institution. 

Colonies  of  Luxeuil  in  Neustria :  St.  Wandregisil  at  Fontenelle :  he  con- 
verted the  country  of  Caux :  St.  Phillibert  at  Jumieges;  commerce  and 
navigation;  death  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  saints  of  Jumieges. 

Colonies  of  Luxeuil  in  Brie  and  Cliampagne :  St.  Ouen  and  his  brothers ; 
Jouarre.  —  St.  Agilus  at  Rebais  ;  hospitality;   vision  of  tlic  poor  traveller. 

—  Burgundofara  braves  martyrdom  to  be  made  a  nun,  and  when  abbess, 
repels  the  schismatic  Agrestin. —  Her  brother  St.  Faron  and  King  Ciotaire 
II.  hunting.  —  St.  Fiacre,  St.  Fursy,  St.  Frobort  at  Moutier-la-Celle,  St. 
Berchaire  at  Hautvillers  and  Montier-en-Der.  —  St.  Salaberga  at  Laon. 

Colonies  of  Luxeuil  inPonthieu;  the  shepherd  Valcry,  gardener  at  Luxeuil, 
founder  of  Leuconaus. — Popular  opposition.  —  St.   Riquier  at  Ccntule. 

Colonies  of  Luxeuil  among  the  Morins :  St.  Omer  and  St.  Berlin  at  Sithiu; 
change  of  the  name  of  monasteries. 

The  Saints  of  Remiremont  :  Amatus  and  Romaric;  the  double  monaste- 
ries; Agrestin  at  Remiremont;  Romaric  and  the  prime  minister  Grimoald. 

—  St.  Eloysius  and  Solignac. 

Why  was  the  rule  of  St.  Columbanus  rejected  and  replaced  by  that  of  St. 
Benedict?  The  Council  of  Autun  acknowledges  only  the  latter.  The 
Council  of  Rome  in  610  confirmed  it.  It  was  identified  witii  the  authority 
of  the  Holy  See,  and  thus  succeeded  in  governing  all. 


Ad  has  nostras  Gallicanae  partes  S.  Columbanus  ascendens,  Luxoviense  construxit  mo- 
nasterium,  lactus  ibi  in  gentem  maguam.  —  S.  Beunakdi,  I'iiu  S.  Malach.,  c.  5. 

81  tollis  libertatem,  tollis  et  dignitatem.  —  S.  Columbani,  Epist.  ad  Fratres. 

While  the  missionaries  of  Monte  Cassino  planted  slowly 
and  obscurely  in  the  new  kingdom  of  the  Franks  that  Order, 
the  observance  of  which  St.  Gregory  the  Great,  by  his  ex- 
ample and  by  his  disciples,  regulated  and  extended 
every  where,  a  man  had  appeared  in  the  Church  and 
in  Gaul  as  the  type  of  a  distinct  race  and  spirit.  A  monk 
and  monastic  legislator,  like  St.  Benedict,  he  at  one  moment 
threatened  to  eclipse  and  replace  the  Benedictine  institution 
in  the  Catholic  world.     This  was  St.  Columbanus. 

He  came  from  the  north,  as  St.  Maur  had  come  from  the 
south.     He  was   born  in  Ireland :    he   brought  with  him  a 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  543 

color.y  of  Irish  monks;  and  his  name  leads  us  back  to  con- 
eider  that  race  and  country  of  Avhich  he  has  been  the  most 
illustrious  representative  among  us. 

Ireland,  that  virgin  island  on  which  proconsul  never  set 
foot,  Avhich  never  knew  either  the  orgies  or  the 
exactions  of  Rome,  was  also  the  only  place  in  the  cmie^hrfs 
world  of  which  the  Gospel  took  possession  without  J^)^",,^J'|,*nV 
bloodshed.  It  is  thus  spoken  of  by  Ozanam  ;  ^  and  i"en  uo-" 
certainly  no  one  has  described  it  better,  thougli 
allowance  must  be  made  for  the  excessive  admiration  which 
disposes  him  to  exalt  above  measure  the  part  played  by  the 
Irish  from  the  sixth  to  the  twelfth  centuries,  attributing  to 
them  exclusively  that  impulse  of  diffusion  and  expansion, 
and  that  thirst  for  instructing  and  converting,  which  charac- 
terized the  entire  Church  and  monastic  order  during  that 
long  and  glorious  period.  The  preponderance  of  the  Irish 
race  in  the  work  of  preaching  and  in  the  conversion  of  pagan 
or  semi-Christian  nations  w^as  only  temporary,  and  did  not 
last  longer  than  the  seventh  century  ;  but  their  exertions  at 
that  time  were  so  undeniable  as  to  leave  France,  Switzer- 
land, and  Belgium  under  a  debt  of  everlasting  gratitude. 
This  branch  of  the  great  family  of  Celtic  nations,  known 
under  the  name  of  Hibernians,  Scots,  or  Gaels,  and  whose 
descendants  and  language  have  survived  to  our  own  days  in 
Ireland,  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  in  Wales,  and  in  Lower 
Brittany,  had  adopted  the  faith  of  Christ  Avith  enthusiasm ; 
and,  at  the  moment  when  Celtic  vitality  seemed  about  to 
perish  in  Gaul  and  Great  Britain,  under  the  double  pressure 
of  Roman  decay  and  Germanic  invasion,  appeared  among  all 
the  Christian  races  as  the  one  most  devoted  to  the  Catholic 
faith,  and  most  zealous  for  the  spread  of  the  Gospel.^  From 
the  moment  that  this  Green  Erin,  situated  at  the  extremity 
of  the  known  world,  had  seen  the  sun  of  faith  rise  upon  her, 
she  had  vowed  herself  to  it  with  an  ardent  and  tender  devo- 
tion which  became  her  very  life.  The  course  of  ages  has 
not  interrupted  this ;  the  most  bloody  and  implacable  of 
persecutions  has  not  shaken  it ;  the  defection  of  all  northern 
Europe  has  not  led  her  astray  ;  and  she  maintains  still,  amid 
the  splendors  and  miseries  of  modern  civilization  and  Anglo- 
Saxon  supremacy,  an  inextinguishable  centre  of  faith,  where 

•  Etudes  Germaniqves,  t.  ii.  p.  99. 

*  *'  Scottorum  gens  .  .  .  absque  reliquarum  gentium  legibus,  tamen  in 
Christiani  vigoris  dogmata  florens,  omnium  vicinarum  gentium  fide  praepol- 
let"--  Jonas,  Vita  S.  Clolumb.,  c.  6,  ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.  sac.  II. 


544  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

survives,  along  with  the  completest  orthodoxy,  that  admira- 
ble purity  of  manners  which  no  conqueror  and  no  adversary 
has  ever  been  able  to  dispute,  to  equal,  or  to  diminish. 

The  ecclesiastical  antiquity  and  hagiography  of  Ireland 
constitute  in  themselves  an  entire  world  of  inquiry.  We  shall 
be  pardoned  for  not  desiring  to  enter  into  their  interminable 
and  somewhat  confused  perspectives.^  It  will  suffice  us  to 
detach  from  this  mass  of  legendary  narratives,  which  modern 
erudition  has  not  yet  been  able  to  clear  away,  as  much  as  is 
indispensable  to  our  subject,  and  will  prove  the  development 
of  the  monastic  principle,  contemporaneous  with,  but  entirely 
independent  of  the  diffusion  of  cenobitical  institutions  in  all 
the  Roman  empire  and  through  all  the  Barbarian  races. 

Two  slaves  brought  the  faith  to  Ireland,  and  at  the  same 
time  founded  monastic  life  there.  Such  is  at  least  the  popu- 
lar belief,  confirmed  by  the  most  credible  narratives. 

The  Gallo-Roman  Patrick,  son  of  a  relative  of  the 
ofiJelaud"  great  St.  Martin  of  Tours,  had  been  seized  at  six- 
Fatn>k.       ^^^^  ^J  pirates,  and  sold  as  a  slave  into  Ireland, 

—        where  he  kept  the  flocks  of  his  master,  and  where 

387-405 

hunger,  cold,  nakedness,  and  the  pitiless  severity  oi 
this  master,  initiated  him  into  all  the  horrors  of  slavery. 
Restored  to  liberty  after  six  years  of  servitude,  and  returned 
to  Gaul,  he  saw  always  in  his  dreams  the  children  of  the  poor 
Irish  pagans  whose  yoke  ho  had  known,  holding  out  to  him 
their  little  arms.  His  sleep  and  his  studies  were  equally  dis- 
turbed by  these  visions.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  heard  the 
voice  of  these  innocents  asking  baptism  of  him,  and  crying 

—  "Dear  Christian  child,  return  among  us!  return  to  save 
us  !  "  ^  After  having  studied  in  the  great  monastic  sanctua- 
ries of  Marmoutier  and  Lerins,  after  having  accompanied  St. 
Germain  of  Auxerre  in  the  mission  undertaken  by  that  great 
champion  of  orthodoxy  to  root  out  the  Pelagian  heresy  so 
dear  to  the  Celtic  races  from  Great  Britain,  he  went  to 
Rome,  obtained  there  a  mission  from  the  Pope  St.  Celestin, 
and  returned  to  Ireland  as  a  bishop  to  preach  the  faith.  The 
kings,  the  chiefs,  the  warlike  and    impressionable  people  of 

'  Lanigan,  Ecclesiastical  History  of  Ireland  from  the  First  Introduction 
of  Christianity  to  the  Beginning  of  the  Thirteenth  Ce/i^wry  (Dublin,  1829, 
4  vols-),  may  i)e  consulted  with  advantage,  though  without  coinciding  in  its 
views. 

*  ♦'  Vidi  in  visu  de  nocte  .  .  .  Putaham  .  .  .  audire  vocera  ipsorum  .  .  . 
Rogamus  te,  sancte  puer,  venias  ct  ailiiuc  ambulcs  inter  nos.  Et  valde  cora- 
punctus  sum  corde,  et  amplius  nou  putui  kgere,  et  sic  expergefactus  sum." 

—  Act.  SS.  Bolland.,  t.  ii.  Mart.,  p.  bZa, 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  545 

Green  Erin  listened  to  him,  followed  him,  and  testified  to- 
wards him  that  impassioned  veneration  which  has  become  tho 
most  popular  tradition  of  the  Irish,  and  which  thirteen  cen- 
turies have  not  lessened.  After  thirty-three  years  of  apostle 
ship  he  died,  leaving  Ireland  almost  entirely  converted,  and, 
moreover,  filled  with  schools  and  communities  destined  to 
become  a  nursery  of  missionaries  for  the  West. 

Legend  and  history  have  vied  in  taking  possession  of  tho 
life  of  St.  Patrick. 

There  is  nothing  in  his  legend  more  poetic  than  Patrick  ana 
the  meeting  between  the  Gallo-Roman  apostle  and  ossian. 
the  Irish  bards,  who  formed  a  hereditary  and  sacerdotal  class. 
Among  them  he  found  his  most  faithful  disciples.  Ossian 
himself,  tho  blind  Homer  of  Ireland,  allowed  himself  to  be 
converted  by  him,  and  Patrick  listened  in  his  turn  as  he  sang 
the  long  epic  of  Celtic  kings  and  heroes.^  Harmony  was  not 
established  between  these  two  without  being  preceded  by 
some  storms.  Patrick  threatened  with  hell  the  profane  war- 
riors whose  glory  Ossian  vaunted,  and  the  bard  replied  to 
the  apostle,  "  If  thy  God  was  in  hell,  my  heroes  would  draw 
him  from  it."  But  triumphant  truth  made  peace  between 
poetry  and  faith.  The  monasteries  founded  by  Patrick  be- 
came the  asylum  and  centre  of  Celtic  poetry.  When  once 
blessed  and  transformed,  says  an  old  author,  the  songs  of  the 
bards  became  so  sweet  that  the  angels  of  God  leant  down 
from  heaven  to  listen  to  them  ;^  and  this  explains  the  reason 
why  the  harp  of  the  bards  has  continued  the  symbol  and  era 
jlazonry  of  Catholic  Ireland. 

Notlfing  is  better  established  in  the  history  of  St.  Patrick, 
than  his  zeal  to  preserve  the  country  where  he  had  himself 
borne  the  yoke,  from  the  abuses  of  slavery,  and  especially 
from  the  incursions  of  the  pirates,  Britons  and  Scots,  robbers 
and  traffickers  in  men,  who  made  it  a  sort  of  store  from  which 
they  took  their  human  cattle.  The  most  authentic  memorial 
of  the  saint  which  remains  to  us  is  his  eloquent  protest 
agaiost  the  king  of  a  British  horde,  who,  landing  in  the  midst 
of  a  tribe  baptized  the  evening  before,  massacred  several, 
and  carried  off  the  others  to  sell  them.  "  Patrick,  an  ignorant 
sinner,  but  constituted  bishop  i:i  Hibernia,  and  dwelling 
among  the  barbarous  nations,  because  of  ray  love  for  God,  I 
write  these  letters  with  my  own  hand  to  be  transmitted  to 
the  soldiers  of  the  tyrant,  I  say  not  to  my  fellow-citizens,  nor 

*  OzANAM,  ii.  472. 

'  La  Villemarqu^,  Legende  Celtiqiie,  p.  109. 

46* 


546  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

to  the  fellow-citizenis  of  the  saints  of  Kome,  but  to  the  com- 
patriots of  the  devil,  to  the  apostate  Scots  and  Picts  who  live 
in  death,  and  fatten  themselves  with  the  blood  of  the  innocent 
Christians  with  whom  I  have  travailed  for  my  God.  .  .  . 
Does  not  the  divine  mercy  which  I  love  oblige  me  to  act 
thus,  to  defend  even  those  who  of  old  made  myself  captive 
and  massacred  the  slaves  and  servants  of  my  father  ? "  "* 
Elsewhere  he  praises  the  courage  of  the  enslaved  girls  whom 
he  had  converted,  and  who  defended  their  modesty  and  faith 
heroically,  against  their  unworthy  masters.^ 

Men  and  women  were  treated  then  among  all  the  Celtic 
nations  as  they  were  during  the  last  century  on  the  coasts 
of  Africa.  Slavery,  and  the  trade  in  slaves,  was  still  more 
difficult  to  root  out  among  them  than  paganism.^  And  yet 
the  Christian  faith  dawned  upon  Ireland  by  means  of  two 
slaves  !  The  name  of  Patrick  is  associated  by  an  undying 
link  with  that  of  Bridget,  the  daughter,  according 
'  — "  '  to  the  legend,  of  a  bard  and  a  beautiful  captive, 
4r)/-525.  -vvhora  her  master  had  sent  away,  like  Hagar,  at  tlie 
suggestion  of  his  wife.  Born  in  grief  and  shame,  she  was 
received  and  baptized,  along  with  her  mother,  by  the  disciples 
of  St.  Patrick.  In  vain  would  her  father  have  taken  her  back 
and  bestowed  her  in  marriage  when  her  beauty  and  wisdom 
became  apparent.  She  devoted  herself  to  God  and  the  poor, 
and  went  to  live  in  an  oak-wood  formerly  consecrated  to  the 
false  gods.  The  miraculous  cures  she  wrought  attracted  the 
crowd,  and  she  soon  ibunded  the  first  female  monaster}^  which 
Ireland  had  known,  under  the  name  of  Kildare,  the  Cell  of  the 
Oak.  She  died  there  at  seventy,  after  an  entire  life  of  love 
and  labor.  Upon  her  tomb  immediately  rose  the  inextin- 
guishable flame  called  the  Light  of  St.  Brid,get,^^  which  her 

^  "  Inter  barbaras  gentes  proselytus  et  perfuga,  ob  amorem  Dei.  .  .  .  Non 
dico  civibus  meis  atque  civibus  sanctorum  Rouianorum,  sed  civibus  daemono- 
rum.  .  .  .  Socii  Scotorum  atque  Piotorum  apostatarum.  .  .  .  lUam  genteia 
quae  me  aliquando  coepit,  et  devastavit  servos  et  ancillas  patris  mei."  —  Epis- 
tola  S.  P.  ad  Christianos  Corolici  Tyranni  subditos,  ap.  Bolland.,  d.  17 
Mart.,  p.  5^38. 

"  '•  Sed  et  illas  maxime  laborant,  quae  servitio  detinentur,  usque  ad  terrorea 
et  niinas  assidue  perferunt."  —  Confessio  S.  Patkicii  de  Vita  et  Conversa- 
tione  sua,  ap.  Boll.,  p.  536. 

*  The  slave  trade  was  in  full  activity  in  the  tenth  century  between  England 
8iul  Ireland,  and  the  port  of  Bristol  was  its  principal  centre. 

***  "  Apiid  Kildariam  occurret  ignis  sanctce  Brigidce,  quern  inextinguibilem 
Vdcant;  non  quod  extirigui  non  posset,  sed  quod  tani  sollicite  moniales  et 
sanetai  mulieres,  igncni,  suppetente  materia,  fovent  et  nutriunt,  ut  tempore 
virginis  per  tot  annorum  curricula  semper  mansit  inextinctus."  —  Girald. 
Cajvib.,  Be  Mirabil.  Hibern.,  Disq.  2,  c.  34. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  547 

nuns  kepi  always  burning,  which  the  faith  and  love  of  an  un- 
fortunate people  watched  over  for  a  thousand  years  as  the 
signal-light  of  the  country,  until  the  triumph  of  a  sacrilegious 
reform,  and  which  in  our  own  days  has  been  relighted  by  the 
muse  of  a  patriot  poet.^^  Innumerable  convents  of  women 
trace  their  origin  to  the  Abbess  of  Kildare  :  wherever  tlie 
Irish  monks  have  penetrated,  from  Cologne  to  Seville,  churcheg 
have  been  raised  in  her  honor  ;  and  wherever,  in  our  own 
time,  British  emigration  spreads,  the  name  of  Bridget  points 
out  the  woman  of  Irish  race.^^  Deprived  by  persecution  and 
poverty  of  the  means  of  erecting  monuments  of  stone,  they 
testify  their  unshaken  devotion  to  that  dear  memory  by  giv- 
ing her  name  to  their  daughters  —  a  noble  and  touching 
homage  made  by  a  race,  always  unfortunate  and  always  faith- 
ful, to  a  saint  who  was  like  itself,  a  slave,  and  like  itself,  a 
Catholic.  There  are  glories  more  noisy  and  splendid,  but 
are  there  many  which  do  more  honor  to  human  nature  ?  ^^ 

The  productiveness  of  the  monastic  germ  planted 
by  Patrick  and  Bridget  w^as  prodigious.   In  his  own   monastur- 
lifetime,  the  apostle   of  Ireland   was 'astonished  to   "^'^" 
find  that  he  could  no   longer  number  the  sons  and  daughters 
of  chieftains  who  had  embraced  cloistral  life  at  his  bidding.^^ 
The  rude  and  simple  architecture  of  these  primitive  monas- 
teries has  left  a  visible  trace  in  the  celebrated  round  towers, 
spread  over  the  soil  of  Ireland,  which  had  so  long  exercised 
the  ingenuity  of  archteologists,  until  contemporary  science 

*'  "  Like  the  bright  lamp  that  shone  in  Kildare's  holy  fane, 
And  burned  through  long  ages  of  darkness  and  storin, 
Is  the  heart  tliat  afflictions  iiave  come  o'er  in  vain, 
Whose  spirit  outlives  them,  unfading  and  warm! 
Erin  !  oh  Erin  !  tlms  bright  through  tlie  tears 
Of  a  long  night  of  bondage  thy  spirit  appears." 

JMooRE,  Irish  Melodies. 
'*  Bridget  or  Bride.     There  are  still  eighteen  parishes   in  Ireland  which 
boar  the  name  of  Kilbride,  or  the  Church  of  Bridget. 

'^  At  the  time  of  the  invasion  of  the  Danes,  who  burned  Kildare  in  835, 
the  shrine  of  St.  Bridget  was  removed  to  tlie  monastery  of  Downpatrick, 
where  the  body  of  St.  Patrick  reposed.  In  850  the  relics  of  St.  Columb-kill 
were  for  a  like  reason  brought  from  the  island  of  lona  to  the  same  shelter. 
Thus  the  three  great  saints  of  the  Celtic  race  are  to  be  found  assembled  in 
the  same  tomb.  Their  solemn  translation  was  celebrated,  in  1186,  by  a  legate 
of  Pope  Urban  III. 

"  "Filii  Scotorum  et  filiae  regulorum  moiiachi  et  virgines  Christi  esse 
videntur  .  .  .  nescimus  numerum  corum."  —  Confessto,  loc.  cit.  Mabillon 
thinks  that  St.  Patrick  gave  the  rule  of  Marmoutier  to  his  newly-born  com- 
munities. —  PrcEf.  in  I.  scBC.  Bened.,  cap.  i.  n.  25.  Compare  H.«;fti£N,  Dis- 
quisitiones  HfonastictB,  p.  57,  Antwerpia,  1644,  folio.  Lanigan  believes  that 
there  were  monks  in  Ireland  even  before  St.  Patrick. 


548  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

demonstrated  that  these  monuments  were  nothing  else  than 
the  belfries  of  cathedrals  and  abbeys  erected  between  the 
time  of  the  conversion  of  the  island  and  its  conquest  b>^  the 
English. 15  Among  so  many  saints  who  were  the  successors 
and  emulators  of  St.  Patrick,  we  shall  name  only  one,  Luan, 
whose  memory  St.  Bernard  consecrated  six  centuries  after- 
wards, by  affirming  that  he  had  himself  founded  in  his  own 
person  a  hundred  monasteries. ^^  This  Luan  was  a  little 
tthepherd  who  had  been  educated  by  the  monks  of  the  im- 
mense abbey  of  Bangor.  For  shortly  the  monasteries  at 
Bangor,  Clonfert,  and  elsewhere,  became  entire  towns,  each 
of  which  enclosed  more  than  three  thousand  cenobites.  The 
Thebaid  reappeared  in  Ireland,  and  the  West  had  no  longer 
anything  to  envy  in  the  history  of  the  East. 
Intellectual  There  was  besides  an  intellectual  development, 
the'mon-"  which  the  Eremites  of  Egypt  had  not  known.  The 
asteries.  Irish  Communities,  joined  by  the  monks  from  Gaul 
and  Rome,  whom  the  example  of  Patrick  had  drawn  upon  his 
steps,^'  entered  into  rivalry  with  the  great  monastic  schools 
of  Gaul.  They  explained  Ovid  there  ;  they  copied  Virgil ; 
they  devoted  themselves  especially  to  Greek  literature  ;  they 
drew  back  from  no  inquiry,  from  no  discussion  ;  they  gloried 
in  placing  boldness  on  a  level  witli  faith.  The  young  Luan 
answered  the  Abbot  of  Bangor,  who  warned  him  against  the 
dangers  of  too  engrossing  a  study  of  the  liberal  arts  :  "  If  I 
have  the  knowledge  of  God,  1  shall  never  oifend  God  ;  for 
they  who  disobey  him  are  they  who  know  him  not."  Upon 
which  the  abbot  left  him,  saying,  "  My  son,  thou  art  firm  in 
the  faith,  and  true  knowledge  will  put  thee  in  the  right  road 
for  heaven."  ^^ 

A  characteristic  still  more  distinctive  of  the  Irish 
missioa-  mouks,  as  of  all  their  nation,  was  the  imperious 
'*''"^*'  necessity  of  spreading  themselves  without,  of  seek- 

ing or  carrying  knowledge  and  faith  afar,  and  of  penetrating 
into  the  most  distant  regions  to  watch  or  combat  paganism. 

'*  Essay   of  Mr.   Petrie,  presented  to   the  Koyal  Academy   of  Ireland  in 
1836. 

'^  S.  Bernard.,  in   Vita  S.  MaLacliice,  c.  (5. 
"  In  536,  fifty  monks  from  tliu  ("oiitinent  landed  at  Cork. 
'**  See  OzANAM,  op.  cit.,  ii.  97,  101,  472,  and  the  curious  verses  which  he 
quotes :  — 

"  Bencliior  bona  regula 
liocta  atque  (li\ina  .   .  . 
Kavis  Munquaiu  turhata  ... 
Simplex  siimil  atque  docta  • 

Undecunique  iiivicta  ..." 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  549 

This  monastic  nation,  therefore,  became  the  missionary  nation 
par  excellence.  While  some  came  to  Ireland  to  procure  reli- 
gious instruction,  the  Irish  missionaries  Uiunched  fortli  from 
their  island.  They  covered  the  land  and  seas  of  the  West. 
Unwearied  navigators,  they  landed  on  the  most  desert  islands  ; 
they  overflowed  the  Continent  with  their  successive  immigra 
tions.i^  They  saw  in  incessant  visions  a  world  known  "and 
unknown  to  be  conquered  for  Christ.  The  poem  of  the 
Pilgrimage  of  St.  Brandan,  that  monkish  Odyssey  so  cele- 
brated in  the  middle  ages,  that  popular  prelude  of  the  Divina 
Commedia,  shows  us  the  Irish  monks  in  close  contact  with 
all  the  dreams  and  wonders  of  the  Celtic  ideal.  Hereafter 
we  shall  see  them  struggling  against  the  reality;  we  shall 
speak  of  their  metropolis  upon  the  rock  of  lona,  in  the  Heb- 
rides ;  we  shall  tell  what  they  did  for  the  conversion  of  Great 
Britain.  But  we  must  follow  them  first  into  Gaul,  that  coun- 
try from  which  the  Gospel  had  been  cari'ied  to  thera  by 
Patrick.  Several  had  already  reached  Arinorica  with  that 
invasion  of  Celtic  refugees  which  we  have  described  in  the 
preceding  Book.  But  it  was  only  in  the  end  of  the  sixth 
century  that  the  action  of  Ireland  upon  the  countries  directly 
subjected  to  Frank  dominion  became  decisive.  She  thus 
generously  repaid  her  debt  to  Gaul.  She  had  received 
Patrick  from  Gaul ;  in  return,  she  sent  Columbanus. 

The  rival  of  St.  Benedict  was  born  the  same  year   „.  ^,    . 

i^         •  1-      1    *    T         liirln  01 

in  which  the  patriarch  oi  Monte  Cassino  died.  In-  st.  coium- 
structed  from  his  infancy  in  literature  and  the  lib- 
eral arts,  he  had  also  to  struggle  early  with  the  temptations 
of  the  flesh.  His  beauty,  which  attracted  all  eyes,  exposed 
him,  says  the  monk  who  has  written  his  life,-^  to  the  shame- 
less temptations  of  the  beautiful  Irishwomen.  It  was  in  vain 
that  he  plunged  into  the  study  of  grammar,  rhetoric,  geome- 
try, and  Holy  Scripture.  The  goad  of  voluptuousness  pricked 
him  perpetually.  He  went  to  the  cell  inhabited  by  a  pious 
recluse  to  consult  her.  "  Twelve  years  ago,"  she  answered 
him,  "  1  myself  left  my  own  house  to  enter  into  a  war  against 
sin.  Inflamed  by  the  fires  of  youth,  thou  shalt  attempt  in 
vain  to  escape  from  thy  frailty  while  thou  remainest  upon 

^^  "  In  exteras  etiam  nationes,  quasi  inundatione  facta  ilia  se  sanctorum 
exaraina  efFuderunt."  —  S.  Bernahdi,    Vita  S.  Malach.,  c.  5. 

^^  Vita  S.  Golumbani  Abbatis,  Auctore  Jona,  Monacho  Bobiensi  Fere 
JEquali,  ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.  This  Jonas  was  of  Susa,  in  Piedmont. 
He  wrote  by  order  of  Attala  and  Eustace,  successors  of  Columbanus.  He 
quotes  Titus  Livius  and  Virgil  by  the  side  of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  His  bnolf 
is  one  of  the  most  curious  monuments  of  the  Merovingian  period. 


550  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

thy  native  soil.  Hast  thou  forj^otten  Adam,  Samson,  David, 
and  Solomon,  all  lost  by  the  seductions  of  beauty  and  love? 
Young  man,  to  save  thyself,  thou  must  flee."  ^^  He  listened, 
believed  her,  and  decided  on  going  away.  His  mother  at- 
tempted to  deter  him,  prostrating  herself  before  him  upon 
the  threshold  of  the  door  ;  he  crossed  that  dear  obstacle,  left 
the  province  of  Leinster,  where  he  was  born,  and,  after 
spending  some  time  with  a  learned  doctor,  who  made  hira 
compose  a  commentary  on  the  Psalms,  he  found  refuge  at  Ban- 
gor, among  the  many  monks  still  imbued  with  the  primitive 
Cervor  which  had  assembled  them  there  under  the  cross  of 
the  holy  abbot  Comgall. 

But  this  first  apprenticeship  of  the  holy  war  was  not 
enough.  The  adventurous  temper  of  his  race,  the  passion 
for  pilgrimage  and  preaching,^'-^  drew  him  beyond  the  seas. 
He  heard  incessantly  the  voice  which  had  spoken  to  Abra- 
ham echoing  in  his  ears,  "  Go  out  of  thine  own  country,  and 
from  thy  father's  house,  into  the  land  which  I  shall  show 
thee."  That  land  was  ours.  The  abbot  attempted  in  vain 
to  retain  him.  Columbanus,  then  thirty,  left  Bangor  with 
twelve  other  monks,  crossed  Great  Britain,  and 
siontothe  reached  Gaul.  He  found  the  Catholic  faith  in  exist- 
Gauis.  euce  there,  but  Christian  virtue  and  ecclesiastical 

discipline  unknown  or  outraged  —  thanks  to  the  fury  of  the 
wars  and  the  negligence  of  the  bishops.  He  devoted  him- 
self during  several  years  to  traversing  the  country,  preach- 
ing the  Gospel,  and  especially  to  giving  an  example  of  the 
humility  and  charity  which  he  taught  to  all.  Arriving  in  the 
course  of  his  apostolical  wanderings  in  Burgundy,  he  was 
received  there  by  King  Gontran,  of  all  the  grandsons  of  Cle- 
vis the  one  whose  life  appears  to  have  been  least  blaraable, 
and  who  had  most  sympathy  for  the  monks.  His  eloquence 
delighted  the  king  and  his  lords.  Fearing  that  he  would 
leave  them,  Gontran  ofiered  him  whatever  he  chose  if  he 
would  remain  ;  and  as  the  Irishman  answered  that  he  had  not 
left  his  own  country  to  seek  wealth,  but  to  follow  Christ  and 
bear  his  cross,  tlie  king  persisted,  and  told  him  that  there 
were  in  his  kingdoms  many  savage  and  solitary  places  where 

*'  "Liberalium  litterarum  doctrinis  et  gramniaticorum  studiis.  .  .  .  Cum 
eum  formse  elogantia  .  .  .  omnibus  gratum  rcdderet.  .  .  .  Lascivarum  pu- 
ellarum  in  eum  suscitavit  amores,  praicipuequas  forma  corporis.  .  .  .  Perge, 
0  juvenis!  perge,  evita  ruinam."  —  Jonas,  c;.  7,  8. 

^'^  "  Scottorum  quibus  consuetudo  peregrinandi  jam  pene  in  naturam  con- 
versa  est." — Walaridus  Strabo,  De  Mirac.  S.  Galli,  lib.  ii.  c.  47.  "Qui 
tironem  suum  ad  futura  bella  erudierat."  —  Jonas,  c.  9. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  551 

he  iniglit  find  the  cross  and  win  heaven,  but  that  lie  must  on 
no  account  leave  Gaul,  nor  dream  of"  converting  other  nations, 
till  he  had  assured  the  salvation  of  the  Franks  and  Burgun- 
dians.^'^ 

Columbanus  yielded  to  his  desire,  and  chose  for  ^^^. 

his  dwelling-place  the  ancient  Roman  castle  of  dcncejit 
Annegray.24  He  led  the  simplest  life  there  with  his  ^""'^"'"''y- 
companions.  He  lived  for  entire  weeks  without  any  other 
food  than  the  grass  of  the  fields,  the  bark  of  the  treee,  and 
the  bilberries  which  are  to  be  found  in  our  fir-woods  ;  he 
received  other  provisions  only  from  the  charity  of  the  neigh- 
bors. Often  he  separated  himself  from  his  disciples  to  plunge 
alone  into  the  woods,  and  live  in  common  Avith  the  animals. 
There,  as  afterwards,  in  his  long  and  close  communion  with 
the  bare  and  savage  nature  of  these  desert  places,  nothing 
alarmed  him,  nor  did  he  cause  fear  to  any  creature.  Bver}''- 
thing  obeyed  his  voice.  The  birds,  as  has  been  already  men- 
tioned, came  to  receive  his  caresses,  and  the  squirrels 
descended  from  the  tree-tops  to  hide  themselves  in  the  folds 
of  his  cowl.  He  expelled  a  bear  from  the  cavern  which 
became  his  cell ;  he  took  from  another  bear  a  dead  stag, 
whose  skin  served  to  make  shoes  for  his  brethren.  ^^ 
One  day,  while  he  wandered  in  the  depths  of  the  aad  bn- 
wood,  bearing  a  volume  of  Holy  Scripture  on  his  sanJs. 
shoulder,  and  meditating  whether  the  ferocity  of  the  beasts, 
who  could  not  sin,  was  not  better  than  the  rage  of  men, 
which  destroyed  their  souls,  he  saw  a  dozen  wolves  approach 
and  surround  him  on  both  sides.  He  remained  motionless, 
repeating  these  words, "  Deus  in  adjutorium."  The  wolves, 
after  having  touched  his  garments  with  their  mouths,  seeing 
him  without  fear,  passed  upon  their  way.  He  pursued  his, 
and  a  few  steps  farther  on  heard  a  noise  of  human  voices, 
which  he  recognized  as  those  of  a  band  of  German  brigands,  of 
the  Sueve  nation,  who  then  wasted  that  country.  He  did  not 
see  them  ;  but  he  thanked  God  for  having  preserved  him  from 
this  double  danger,  in  which  may  be  seen  a  double  symbol 
of  the  constant  struggle  which  the  monks  had  to  maintain  in 

^  "  Ob  negligentiam  praesulum,  religionis  virtus  pene  abolita.  .  .  .  Gratus 
rogi  et  aulicis  ob  egregiam  doctrinae  copiam.  .  .  .  Ut  intra  terminos  Gallia- 
rum  resideret.  .  .  .  Tantuni  ne  solo  nostrseditionis  relicto,  ad  vicinas  transeaa 
nationes  .  .  .  utnostraesaluti  provideas." — Jonas,  c.  11,  12.  Compare  Walaf. 
Strabon.,  lib.  i.  c.  2.  I  refer  to  the  Vie  des  Saints  de  Franche-Comte,  t. 
ii.,  and  to  vol.  vii.  of  October  by  the  new  BoUandists,  p.  868,  for  the  divert 
dates  assigned  to  the  journey  and  sojourn  of  Columbanus  in  France. 

**  New  a  hamlet  of  the  commune  of  Faucogney  (Haute-Sa6ne). 


552  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

their  laborious  warfare  against  the  wild  forces  of  nature,  and 
the  still  more  savage  barbarity  of  meu.^^ 

At  the  end  of  some  years,  the  increasing  number  of  liia 
disciples  obliged  him  to  seek  another  residence,  and  by  the 
help  of  one  of  the  principal  ministers  of  the  Fiank  king, 
Agnoald,  whose  wife  was  a  Burgundian  of  very  high  lamily,^ 
he  obtained  from  Gontran  the  site  of  another  strong  castle. 
Hi  settles  named  Luxeuil,  where  there  had  been  Roman  baths, 
tt  ]:uxeuii,    magnificently  ornamented,  and  where  the  idols  for- 

500,  merly  worshipped  by  the  Gauls  were  still  found  in 
the  neighboring  forests.  Upon  the  ruins  of  these  two  civili- 
zations the  great  monastic  metropolis  of  Austrasia  and  Bur- 
gundy was  to  be  planted. 

Luxeuil  was  situated  upon  the  confines  of  these 
oi'Sequa-  two  kingdoms,  at  the  foot  of  the  Vosges,  and  north 
°'^'  of  that  Sequania,  the  southern   part  of  which  had 

already  been  for  more  than  a  century  lighted  up  by  the  abbey 
of  Condat.  The  disti-ict  which  extends  over  the  sides  of  the 
Vosges  and  Jura,  since  so  illustrious  and  prosperous  under 
the  name  of  Franche-Comte  then  consisted,  for  a  range  of 
sixty  leagues,  and  a  breadth  of  ten  or  fifteen,  of  nothing  but 
parallel  chains  of  inaccessible  defiles,  divided  by  impenetra- 
ble forests,  and  bristling  with  immense  pine-woods,  which 
descended  from  the  heights  of  the  highest  mountains,  to  over- 
shadow the  course  of  the  rapid  and  pure  streams  of  the 
Doubs,  Dessoubre,  and  Loue.  The  Barbarian  invasions,  and 
especially  that  of  Attila,  had  reduced  the  Roman  towns  into 
ashes,  and  annihilated  all  agriculture  and  population.  The 
forest  and  the  wild  beasts  had  taken  possession  of  that 
solitude  which  it  was  reserved  for  the  disciples  of  Colum- 
banus  and  Benedict  to  transform  into  fields  and  pastures-^"" 

2'  "  Novem  dies  jam  transierant,  quo  vir  Dei  cum  suis  n^  »  alias  dapes 
caperet  quam  arborum  cortices  herbasque  saltus  .  .  .  vel  par'tlorum  poino- 
runi  quae  Bollucas  vulgo  appellant.  .  .  .  Chamnoaldo  Lugdunu  clavato  pon- 
tifice.  qui  ejus  et  minister  et  discipulus  fuit,  cognovimus  referente,  qui  se 
testabatur  saepe  vidisse  .  .  .  bestias  acaves  accersere  .  .  .  fcruscuJam,  quam 
vulgo  homines  Squirium  vocant.  .  .  .  Abiit  fera  mitis  nee  prorsus  est  ausa 
redire.  .  .  .  Contra  naturam  absque  murnmre  .  .  .  cadaver  reliquit.  .  .  • 
Conspicit  duodecim  lupos  advenire  .  .  .  era  vestimenii  ejus  jungunt  .  .  . 
interritum  relinquunt.  .  .  .  Vocem  Suevorum  multorura  per  avia  aberranti- 
iim."  — Jonas,  c.  14-16,  26,  30. 

26  »:  Regis  conviva  et  consiliarius.  .  .  .  Conjux  exprfficlaraBurgundioruni 
prosapia.  Quanquam  ejus  industria  universa  palatii  officia  gererentur,  nea 
non  totius  regni  querinionise  illius  aequissima  definitione  terminarentur."- • 
Vita  S.  Agili,  c.  1,  3,  ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii. 

*"  "  Ei-at  tunc  vasta  eremus  Vosagus  nomine  .  .  .  aspera  vastitate  soli- 
tudinis  et  scopulorum  interpositione  loca  aspera."  —  Jonas,  c.  12.     See  the 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  553 

Disciples   collected   abundantly  round  the   Irish   . 

1       •  FT  IT  1    t  1        1       Iiuroiise  of 

colonizer.     He  could  soon  count  several  hundreds   fiiscipies 
of  them  in  the  three  monasteries  which  he  had  built  coiumba- 
in  succession,  and  which  he  himself"  governed.-^  The  ""**" 
noble  Franks  and  Burgundians,  overawed  by  the  sight  of 
these  great  creations  of  work  and  prayer,  brought  their  sona 
to   him,  lavished   gifts  upon  him,  and  often  came  to  ask  liim 
to  cut  their  long  hair,  the  sign  of  nobility  and  freedom,  and 
admit  them  into  the  ranks  of  his  army.^^     Labor  and  prayer 
attained     here,   under  the   strong    arm    of  Columbanus,    to 
proportions  up    to  that    time    unheard    of.     The  multitude 
of  poor  serfs  and  rich  lords  became  so   great  that  he  could 
organize  that  perpetual  service   csilied  Laus pereii-   i„ufi  pe- 
nis, which  already  existed  at  Agaune,  on  the  other  reimis. 
side  of  the  Jura  and  Lake  Leman,  where,  night  and  day,  the 
voices  of  the  monks,  "  unwearied  as  those  of  angels,"  arose  to 
celebrate  the  praises  of  God  in  an  unending  song.^P 

Rich  and  poor  were  equally  bound  to  the  agricultural 
.abors,  which  Columbanus  himself  directed.  In  the  narra- 
tive of  the  wonders  which  mingle  with  every  page  of  his 
life,  they  are  all  to  be  seen  employed  successively  in  plough- 
ing, in  mowing,  in  reaping,  and  in  cutting  wood.  With  the 
impetuosity  natural  to  him,  he  made  no  allowance  for  any 
weakness.  He  required  even  the  sick  to  thrash  the  wheat. 
An  article  of  his  rule  ordained  the  monk  to  go  to  rest  so 
fatigued  that  he  should  fall  asleep  on  the  way,  and  to  get  up 
before   he   had  slept  sufficiently.     It   is  at  the  cost  of  this 

excellent  description  of  Jura  and  its  monastic  agriculture,  in  the  Histoire 
dei  Grandes  Forets  de  la  Gaule,  by  M.  Alfred  Maury,  p.  181. 

"  Annegray,  Luxeuil,  and  Fontaines.  The  biographer  of  St.  Valery  gives 
the  number  two  hundred  and  twenty;  other  authors  say  six  hundred. 

^'•'  "Ibi  nobilium  liberi  undique  coneurrere  nitebantur."  —  Jonas,  c.  17. 
"  Multi  non  solum  de  genere  Burgundionum,  sed  etiam  Francorum  .  .  . 
contiuxerunt  .  .  .  ut  omnia  sua  ad  ipsura  locum  contraderent,  et  coma  capi- 
tis deposita."  —  Walafr.  Strabo,  c.  2. 

^^  S.  Bernard.,  in  Vita  S.  Malach.,  c.  6.  Compare  Mabill.,  Annal., 
lib.  viii.  n.  10,  16;  D.  Pitra,  Hist,  de  S.  Leger,  p.  301;  the  Vie  des  Saints 
de  Franclie-Comte,  t.  ii.  p.  25  and  478.  This  perpetual  service,  called  Laus 
perennis,  was  long  maintained  at  St.  Maurice,  at  Remiremont,  at  St.  Denis, 
and  elsewhere.  There  are  also  traces  of  its  existence  in  the  first  monaster- 
ies of  Egypt  and  Palestine.  In  the  Life  of  St.  Mary  the  Egyptian,  in  speak- 
ing of  a  monastery  near  Jordan,  are  the  following  words  :  "Psallentia  ibi 
erat,  incessabiles  totius  noctis  habens  stabilitates  .  .  .  et  in  ore  psalmi  divini 
absque  diminutione."  —  Rosweyde,  VHcb  Patrum,  p.  383.  Alexander,  a 
Syrian  monk,  who  died  about  430,  founded  a  special  order  of  monks  called 
Acemetes,  or  people  who  do  not  sleep.  He  ruled,  first  on  the  shores  of  the 
Euphrates,  and  afterwards  at  Constantinople,  three  hundred  recluses,  divided 
into  six  choirs,  who  relieved  each  other  in  singing  night  and  day. 

VOL.  L  47 


554  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

excessive  and  perpetual  labor  that  the  half  of  our  own 
country  and  of  ungrateful  Europe  had  been  restored  to  culti- 
vation and  life.^^ 

Dispieas-  Twenty    years    passed    thus,  during  which  the 

ureofthe      reputation  of  Columbanus  increased  and  extended 

Slops.       ^^.^^^     -g^^^  j^.^  influence  was  not  undisputed.     He 

displeased  one  portion  of  the  Gallo-Frank  clergy,  in  the  first 
place,  by  the  Irish  peculiarities  of  his  costume  and  tonsure, 
perhaps  also  by  the  intemperate  zeal  with  which  he  attempted, 
in  his  epistles,  to  remind  the  bishops  of  their  duties,  and  cer- 
tainly by  his  obstinate  perseverance  in  celebrating  Easter 
according  to  Irish  usage,  on  the  fourteenth  day  of  the  moon, 
when  that  day  happened  on  a  Sunday,  instead  of  celebrating 
it,  with  all  the  rest  of  the  Church,  on  the  Sunday  after  the 
fourteenth  day.  This  peculiarity,  at  once  trifling  and  oppres- 
sive, disturbed  his  whole  life,  and  weakened  his  authority; 
for  his  pertinacity  on  this  point  reached  so  far,  that  he  actu- 
ally attempted  more  than  once  to  bring  the  Holy  See  itself 
to  his  side.^^ 

The  details  of  his  struggle  with  the  bishops  of  Gaul  remain 
unknown;  but  the  resolution  he  displayed  maybe  under- 
stood, by  some  passages  of  his  letter  to  the  synod  or  council 
which  met  to  examine  this  question.  The  singular  mixture 
of  humility  and  pride,  and  the  manly  and  original  eloquence 
with  which  this  epistle  is  stamped,  does  not  conceal  what 
was  strange  and  irregular  in  the  part  which  he  arrogated  to 
liimselfin  the  Church.  Though  he  ca.\\s  \nmse\t' Columbanus 
the  sinner,  it  is  very  apparent  that  he  felt  himself  the  guide 
and  instructor  of  those  to  whom  he  spoke. 

He  begins  by  thanking  God  that,  owing  to  His 
toacoun-  grace,  so  many  holy  bishops  now  assemble  to  con- 
*"'■  sider  the  interests  of  faith  and  morality.    He  exhorts 

them  to  assemble  more  frequently,  despite  the  dangers  and 
difficulties  which  they  might  meet  on  the  road,  and  wishes 
them  to  occupy  themselves,  under  the  presidence  of  Jesua 
Christ,  not  only  with  the  question  of  Easter,  but  with  other 

^'  "  Imperat  ut  omnes  sura:ant  atque  niessem  in  area  virga  ccedant.  .  .  . 
Cum  vidisset  eos  magno  labore  glehas  scindere."  —  Jonas,  c.  20,  23,  28. 
"Lassus  ad  stratum  veniat,  anibulansquo  dorrnitet,  necdum  expleto  somno 
siirgere  compellatur."  —  Eej.  S.  Coi.ujibani,  c.  9. 

^*  He  wrote  several  letters  on  tins  subject  to  St.  Gregory  the  Great,  of 
which  there  is  no  trace  in  the  correspondence  of  this  pope,  and  only  one  of 
them  has  been  preserved  in  the  works  of  Columbanus.  In  the  latter,  he 
says  that  Satan  hindered  his  three  former  letters  from  coming  to  the  hands 
of  Gregory. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  555 

canonical  observances  cruelly  neglected.  He  prides  hiinsell' 
on  his  own  trials,  and  what  he  calls  the  persecution  of  which 
he  has  been  the  victim.  He  blames  the  diversity  of  customs 
and  variety  of  traditions  in  the  Church,  condemning  himself 
thus  by  his  own  mouth,  and  not  perceiving  tlie  wisdom  of 
ecclesiastical  authority,  which  seems  to  have  long  tolerated, 
in  himself  and  his  compatriots,  the  individual  and  local  ob- 
servance wliich  he  would  fain  have  inflicted  as  a  yoke  upon 
all  Christendom.  .  He  also  advocates  union  between  the  sec- 
ular and  regular  clergy ;  and  his  language  then  becomes 
more  touching  and  solemn.  "  I  am  not  the  author  of  this 
difference ;  I  have  come  into  these  parts,  a  poor  stranger, 
for  the  cause  of  the  Christ  Saviour,  our  common  God  and 
Lord :  I  ask  of  your  holinesses  but  a  single  grace  :  that  you 
will  permit  me  to  live  in  silence  in  the  depth  of  these  forests, 
near  the  bones  of  seventeen  brethren  whom  I  have  already 
seen  die  :  I  shall  pray  for  you  with  those  who  remain  to  me, 
as  I  ought,  and  as  I  have  always  done  for  twelve  years.  Ah ! 
let  us  live  with  you  in  this  Gaul  where  we  now  are,  since  we 
are  destined  to  live  with  each  other  in  heaven,  if  we  are 
found  worthy  to  enter  there.  Despite  our  lukewarmness, 
we  will  follow,  the  best  we  can,  the  doctrines  and  precepts 
of  our  Lord  and  the  apostles.  These  are  our  weapons,  our 
shield,  and  our  glory.  To  remain  faithful  to  them  we  have 
left  our  country,  and  are  come  among  you.  It  is  yours,  holy 
fathers,  to  determine  what  must  be  done  with  some  poor 
veterans,  some  old  pilgrims,  and  if  it  would  not  be  better  to 
console  than  to  disturb  them.  I  dare  not  go  to  you  for  fear 
of  entering  into  some  contention  with  you,  but  I  confess  to 
you  the  secrets  of  my  conscience,  and  how  1  believe,  above 
all,  in  the  tradition  of  my  country,  which  is,  besides,  that  of 
St.  Jerome." 

All  this  is  mingled  with  troublesome  calculations  about  the 
celebration  of  Eastsr,  and  a  great  array  of  Scripture  texts. 
It  ends  thus :  ''  God  forbid  that  we  should  delight  our  enemies 
—  namely,  the  Jews,  heretics,  and  pagans  —  by  strife  among 
Christians.  ...  If  God  guides  you  to  expel  me  from  the 
desert  which  I  have  sought  here  beyond  the  seas,  I  should 
only  say  with  Jonah,  '  Take  me  up  and  cast  me  forth  into  the 
sea;  so  shall  the  sea  be  calm.'  But  before  you  throw  me 
overboard,  it  is  your  duty  to  follow  the  example  of  the  sailors, 
and  to  try  first  to  come  to  laud  ;  perhaps  even  it  might  not 
be  excess  of  presumption  to  suggest  to  you  that  many  men 
follow  the  broad  way,  and  that  when  there  are  a  few  who 


556  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

direct  themsolves  to  tlie  narrow  gate  that  leads  to  life,  it 
would  be  better  for  you  to  encourage  than  to  hinder  them, 
lest  you  fall  under  the  condemnation  of  th:it  text  which  says, 
*  Woe  unto  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites  !  for  ye 
shut  up  the  kingdom  of  heaven  against  men  :  for  yo.  neither 
go  in  yourselves,  neither  suffer  ye  them  that  are  entering  to 
go  in.'  The  harder  the  struggle,  the  more  glorious  is  the 
crown.  The}',  says  St.  Gregory,  who  do  not  avoid  tlie  visible 
evil  can  scarcely  believe  in  the  hidden  good.  For  this  reason 
St.  Jerome  enjoins  the  bishops  to  imitate  the  a{)Ostles,  and 
the  monks  to  follow  the  fathers,  who  have  been  perfect.  The 
rules  of  the  priests  and  those  of  the  monks  are  very  different ; 
let  each  keep  faithfully  the  profession  which  he  has  embraced, 
but  let  all  follovt^  the  Gospel  and  Christ  their  head.  .  .  .  Yet 
pray  for  us,  as  we,  despite  our  lowliness,  pra}'  for  3'ou.  Re- 
gard us  not  as  strangers  to  3"ou ;  for  all  of  us,  whether  Gauls 
or  Britons,  Spaniards  or  others,  are  members  of  the  same 
body.  I  pray  }  ou  all,  my  holy  and  patient  fathers  and  breth- 
I'en,  to  forgive  tlie  loquacity  and  boldness  of  a  man  whose 
task  is  above  his  strength.''  ^^ 

When  we  think  that  neither  in  the  life  of  Columbanus  him- 
self, which  is  written  in  minute  detail,  nor  in  the  history  of 
his  age,  is  there  any  trace  of  repression  or  even  of  serious 
censure,  directed  against  tiie  foreign  monk  who  thus  set  him- 

^■'  "Dominis  Sanctis  et  in  Christo  patribus  vel  fratribus  episcopis,  presby- 
teris,  casterisque  S.  Ecclesiae  ordinibiis,  Coluraba  peccator,  saluteiu  in  Christo 
pr£emitto.  —  Gratias  ago  Deo  meo  quod  mei  causa  in  unum  tanti  congregati 
sunt  sancti.  .  .  .  Utinam  sajpius  hoc  ageretis.  .  .  .  Hoc  potissimuni  debuit 
vobis  inesse  studium.  .  .  .  Multum  nocuit  iiocetque  ccclosiasticae  paci  diver- 
eitas  morum  et  varietas  traditionum.  .  .  .  Unum  deposco  a  vestra  saiictitate 
.  .  .  ut,  quia  liujus  divinitalis  auctor  non  sum,  ac  pro  Christo  Salvatore  coni- 
muni  Domino  et  Deo  in  has  terras  peregrinus  processerim,  ut  mihi  liceat 
...  in  his  silvis  silere  et  vivere  juxta  ossa  nostrorum  fratrum  decern  et  sep- 
tem  defunctorum  sicut  usque  nunc  Hcuit  nobis  inter  vos  vixisse  duodecim 
annis,  uc  pro  vobis,  sicut  usque  nunc  fecimus,  oremus,  ut  deliemus.  Capiat 
nos  simul,  oro,  Gallia,  quos  capiet  regnum  coelorum,  si  boni  simus  meritis. 
...  Hi  sunt  nostri  canones,  dominica  et  apostolica  mandata.  .  .  .  Ilaec 
arma,  scutum  et  gladium  .  .  .  base  nos  moverunt  de  patria :  hiiec  et  hie  ser- 
vare  contendimus,  licet  tepide  ...  in  his  perseverare  optamus  sicut  et  seni- 
ores  nostros  facere  conspeximus.  .  .  .  Vos,  patres  sancti,  videte  quid  faciatis 
ad  istos  veteranos  pauperes  et  peregrinos  senes  .  .  .  Contiteor  conscientiae 
nieas  secreta,  quod  plus  credo  tradition!  patriae  meae.  .  .  .  Alia  enim  sunt  et 
alia  clericorum  et  monachorum  documenta,  et  longe  ab  invicem  separata. 
.  .  .  De  caetaro,  patres,  orate  pro  nobis,  sicut  et  nos  facinms,  viles  licet,  pro 
vobis ;  et  nolite  nos  a  vobis  alianos  repulsare :  unum  enim  corporis  sumua 
commembra,  sive  Galli,  sive  Britanni,  sive  Iberi,  sive  quseque  gentes.  .  .  . 
Date  veniam  meas  loquacitati  ac  procacitati  supra  vires  laboranti,  patienlissi- 
mi  atque  sanctissinii  patres  quique  et  fratres."  —  Epiit.  ii.  ap.  Oallandus- 
Bibl.   Veter.  Pair.,  t.  xii.  p.  347. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  557 

self  forth  as_^a  master  and  judge  of  the  bishops,  we  cannot  but 
admire  this  proof  of  the  liberty  then  enjoyed  by  Christians, 
even  where  the  rights  of  authority  might  have  been  most 
jealously  preserved. 

It  is,    however,    doubtful  whether  this    attitude    had    not 
shaken   the  influence  which  the  virtues  and  sanctity  of  Co- 
lumbanus  had  won  for  him  among  the  Gallo-Franks.     But  ho 
soon   recovered  it  entirely  in  the  conflict  for  the 
honor   of    Christian    morals,   Mdiich    he    undertook   "Ifwith^* 
against  Queen  Brunehault  and  her  grandson,  and   ^l^lfj.j.  jj 
which  we  must  relate  in  some  detail,  because  this  and  Brune- 
struggle  was  the  first,  and  not  the  least  remarkable, 
of  those    which    arose    on    various    occasions    between    the 
monks  and  Christian  kings,  who  had  been  so  long  and  nat- 
urally allied. 

The  Frank  government  in  Gaul  was,  as  is  known,  naturally 
divided  into  three  distinct  kingdoms,  Neustria,  Austrasia, 
and  Burgundy.  The  ancient  kingdom  of  the  Burgondes  or 
of  Burgundy,  finafly  conquered  by  the  sons  of  Clovis,  had 
been  reconstituted  by  his  grandson  Gontran,  the  same  who 
gave  so  good  a  reception  to  Columbanus,  and  it  was  at  the 
northern  extremity  of  this  kingdom  that  Luxeuil  was  founded. 
Gontran  having  died  without  issue,  Burgundy 
passed  to  his  nephew,  the  young  Childebert  II., 
already  king  of  Austrasia,  the  sou  of  the  celebrated  Brune- 
hault. Be  died  shortly  after,  leaving  two  sons 
under  age,  Theodebert  II.  and  Thierry  II.  The 
succession  was  divided  between  them:  Theodebert  had 
Austrasia,  and  Thierry,  Burgundy;  but  their  grandmother 
Brunehault  immediately  constituted  herself  their  guardian 
and  took  possession  of  the  power  royal  in  the  two  kingdoms, 
whilst  her  terrible  enemy,  Fredegund,  whom  Gontran  had  so 
justly  named  the  enemy  of  God  and  man,  governed  Neustria 
in  the  name  of  her  son  Clotaire  II.,  who  was  also  a  minor. 
The  whole  of  Frankish  Gaul  was  tlnis  in  the  hands  of  two 
women,  who  goveined  it  in  the  name  of  three  kings,  all 
minors.2^  But  shortly  the  great  feudal  lords  of  Austrasia, 
among  whom  tlie  indomitable  independence  of  the  Franks  had 
been  preserved  more  unbriiken  than  among  the  Neustrians, 
disgusted  by  the  violent  and  arbitrarj^  bearing  of  Brune< 
hault,  obliged  the  eldest  of  her  grandsons  to  expel 
her  from  his  kingdom.     She  consoled  herself  by  es- 

'*  Fredegund  died  a  short  time  after,  in  597,  triumphing  over  all  her  en© 
mies. 

47* 


558  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

tablishing  her  residence  with  the  young  king  Tlijerry  in  Bur 
gundy,  where  she  continued  to  exercise  over  the  Burgun- 
dian  nobles  and  bishops  that  haughty  and  often  cruel  sway 
which  had  made  her  presence  intolerable  in  Austi-asia. 

To  identify  Brunehault  in  any  degree  with  her  impure  and 
sinister  rival,  who  was  at  once  much  more  guilty  and  more 
prosperous  than  she,  would  be  to  judge  her  too  severely. 
Gregory  of  Tours  has  praised  her  beauty,  her  good  manners, 
her  prudence  and  affability ;  and  Gregory  the  Great,  in  con- 
giitulating  the  Franks  on  having  so  good  a  queen,  honored 

her  with  public  eulogiums,  especially  in  his  cele- 
oiVt%iaf-  brated  diploma  relative  to  St.  Martin  of  Autun, 
Imiudtdb"/  which  she  had  built  and  endowed  richl}'  upon  the 
Brune-         gpot  where  the  holy  bishop  of  Tours,  going  into  the 

country  of  the  Eduens,  had  destro3'ed  the  last  sanc- 
tuary of  vanquished  paganism  at  the  peril  of  his  life.  This 
abbey,  long  celebrated  for  its  wealth  and  for  its  flourishing 
schools,  became  afterwards  the  sepulchre  of  Brunehault; 
and,  nine  centuries  after  her  cruel  death,  a  daily  distribution 
to  the  poor,  called  the  alms  of  Brunehault, ^^  kept  her  memory 
popular  still. 

But  Brunehault,  as  she  grew  old,  retained  only  the  daunt- 
less warmth  of  her  early  years  ;  she  preserved  neither  the 
generosity  nor  the  uprightness.  She  sacrificed  everything 
to  a  passion  for  rule,  and  to  the  temptation  of  re-establishing 
a  kind  of  Roman  monarchy .^^  This  thirst  for  sovereignty  led 
her  so  far  —  she,  whose  youth  had  been  without  reproach  — 
as  to  encourage  her  grandsons  in  that  polygamy  which  seems 
to  have  been  the  melancholy  privilege  of  the  Germanic  and 
especially  of  the  Merovingian  princes.^''  From  the  fear  of 
having  a  rival  in  power  and  honor  near  the  throne  (^'l^hierry, 
she  opposed  with  all  her  might  every  attempt  to  replace  his 
concubines  by  a  legitimate  queen,  and  when,  hnally,  he  deter- 
mined on  espousing  a  Visigoth  princess,  Brunehault,  though 
herself  the  daughter  of  a  Visigoth  king,  succeeded  in  disi 

^'  S.  Greg.  Magn.,  Epist.,  xiii.  6;  Gkeg.  Tukon.,  Hist.  EccL,  iv.  27j 
The  Abbey  of  St.  Martin  of  Autun  possessed,  according  to  the  Burgundiai^ 
tradition,  as  many  as  a  hundred  thousand  mans:s.  The  church,  rebuilt  with-. 
magnificence  in  the  ninth  century,  was  razed  in  1750  by  the  monks  thein-^ 
selves ;  they  built  another,  which  met  witii  the  same  fate  in  1808.  The  plough  ' 
has  since  then  passed  over  the  site  of  the  church  and  monastery.  There 
is  a  valuable  monograph  of  this  abbey  published  by  M.  BuUiot,  Autun,  1849, 
2  vgIs. 

^*  Henki  Martin,  ii.  106. 

^''  "  Ob  nobilitatera  plurimis  nuptiis  ambiuntur,"  —  TaciT.,  De  Mor.  Germ.% 
c.  18. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  h59 

ffustine:  lier  errandson  with  his  bride,  and  mado  hiin 

o  O  D  .  .  V     007-608 

repudiate  her  at  the  end  of  a  year.     The  bishop  of 
Vienne,  St.  Didier,  who  had  advised  the  king  to  marry,  was 
murdered  by  the  ruffians  whom  the  queen-motlier  had  laid  in 
wait  for  him. 

However,  the  young  Thierry  had  rehgious  instincts.  Ho 
was  rejoiced  to  possess  in  his  kingdom  a  holy  man  like  Colum- 
banus.  He  went  often  to  visit  him.  Irish  zeal  took  advan- 
tage of  this  to  reprove  him  for  his  disorderly  life,  and  to 
exhoit  him  to  seek  the  sweetness  of  a  legitimate  spouse,  that 
the  royal  race  might  flow  from  an  honorable  queen,  and  not 
from  prostitution.  The  young  king  promised  amendment, 
but  Brunehault  easily  turned  him  away  from  these  good 
resolutions.  Columbanus  having  gone  to  visit  her  at  the 
manor  of  Bourcheresse,  she  presented  to  him  the  four  sons 
whom  Thierry  already  had  by  his  concubines.  "  What  would 
these  children  with  me?"  said  the  monk.  *•  They  are  the 
sons  of  the  king,"  said  the  queen;  "  strengthen  them  by  thy 
blessing."  '*Nol"  answered  Columbanus,  "they  shall  not 
reign,  for  they  are  of  bad  origin."  From  that  moment  Brune- 
hault swore  war  to  the  death  against  him.  She  began  by  de- 
barring the  monks  of  the  monastery  governed  by  Columbanus 
from  leavingtheirconvent,  and  thepeople  from  receiving  them 
or  giving  them  the  slightest  help.  Columbanus  endeavored  to 
enlighten  Tliierry  and  lead  him  back  to  a  better  way.  He 
went  to  visit  him  at  his  royal  seat  of  Epoisses.  Hearing  that 
the  abbot  had  arrived,  but  would  not  enter  the  palace,  the 
king  sent  him  a  sumptuous  repast.  Columbanus  refused  to 
accept  anything  from  the  hand  of  him  who  forbade  the  ser- 
vants of  Gud  to  have  access  to  the  homes  of  other  men,  and 
at  the  sound  of  his  curse,  all  the  vessels  which  contained  the 
various  meats  were  miraculously  broken  in  pieces.  The 
king,  alarmed  by  that  wonder,  came  with  his  grandmother  to 
ask  his  pardon,  and  to  piomise  amendment.  Columbanus, 
mollified,  returned  to  his  monastery,  where  ho  soon  learned 
that  Thierry  had  fallen  back  into  his  habitual  debauchery. 
Then  he  wrote  to  the  king  a  letter  full  of  vehement  re- 
proaches, in  which  he  threatened  him  with  excommunication.^^ 

Thus,  this  stranger,  this  Irish  missionary,  the  obliged  guest 

^'  '•  Gratulabatur  quia  in  termino  regni  sui  B.  Columbanum  liaberet.  ,  .  . 
Ut  non  potius  legitimas  conjugis  solamine  frueretur,  ut  regalis  proles  ex  ho- 
noiabili  regina  proderet,  et  non  ex  lupanaribus  videretur  emergi.  .  .  .  Apud 
Si)issiain  villani  publicam.  .  .  .  Litteras  verberibus  plenas  .  .  .  "  —  Jonas, 
c.  31,  32. 


560  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

of  King  Goiitran,  would  venture  to  go  the  length  of"  excora 
municating-  the  King  of  Burgundy,  the  heir  of  his  benefactor  ! 
Bruneliault  had  no  difficulty  in  raising  the  principal  leudes 
of  the  court  of  Thierr}^  against  that  unaccustomed  boldness  ; 
she  even  undertook  to  persuade  the  bishops  to  interfere  in 
order  to  censure  the  rule  of  the  new  institution.  Excited 
by  all  that  ho  heard  going  on  around  him,  Thierry  resolved 
to  take  the  offensive,  and  presented  himself  at  Luxeuil  to 
demand  a  reckoning  with  the  abbot,  why  he  went  against 
the  customs  of  the  country,  and  why  the  interior  of  the  con- 
vent was  not  open  to  all  Christians,  and  even  to  women  ;  for 
it  was  one  of  the  grievances  of  Brunehault.  that  Columbanus 
had  interdicted  even  her,  although  queen,  from  crossing  the 
threshold  of  the  monastery.  The  young  king  went  as  far  as 
the  refectory',  saying  that  he  would  have  the  entrance  free  to 
ail,  or  that  they  must  give  up  all  royal  gifts.  Columbanus, 
with  his  accustomed  boldness,  said  to  the  king,  ''  If  you  would 
violate  the  severity  of  our  rules,  we  have  no  need  of  your 
gifts :  and  if  you  would  come  here  to  destroy  our  monastery, 
know  that  your  kingdom  shall  be  destroyed  with  all  your 
race." 

The  king  was  afraid  and  went  out ;  but  he  soon  replied  : 
"  Thou  art  in  hopes  perhaps  that  I  will  procure  thee  the 
crown  of  martyrdom  ;  but  I  am  not  fool  enough  for  that ;  only, 
since  it  pleases  thee  to  live  apart  from  all  relation  with  the 
-secular  people,  thou  hast  but  to  return  whence  thou  earnest, 
even  to  thy  own  couutr3\"  All  the  nobles  of  the  roj'al  suite 
exclaimed  that  they  would  no  longer  tolerate  in  their  land 

men  who  thus  isolated  themselves  from  the  world. 

nus  ex-'       Columbanus  replied  that  he  would  leave  his  monas- 

Luxiliuf^  tery  only  when  taken  from  it  by  force.     He  was 

the  first       then  taken  and  conducted  to  Besancon,  to  wait  there 

-; —        the  ultimate  orders   of  the  king.^^     After  which  a 

sort  of  blockade  was  established  round  Luxeuil  to 
prevent  any  one  from  leaving  it. 
"t  A<^-i  '^^^^  monks  then  recollected  that  the}'  had  among 

them  a  young  man  called   Agilus,  son  of  that  Ag- 
noald,  prime  minister  of  Gontran,  who,  twenty  years  before, 

^'  "  Ea  maxirae  pro  causa  infesta  erat  eo  quod  .  .  .  sibi  quse  regina  erat 
idem  contradixerat."  —  Vita  S.  Agili,  c.  7,  ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.  "  Ut 
erat  audax.  atque  anirao  vigens.  .  .  .  Si  ob  banc  causam  hoc  in  loco  venisti. 
.  .  .  Martyrii  coronam  me  tibi  illaturum  speras  :  non  esse  me  tantje  dementiae 
scias.  .  .  .  Qua  veneras,  ea  via  repedare  studeas.  .  .  .  Aulicorum  consona 
voce  vota  prorumpunt."  —  Jonas,  c.  23. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  561 

■jad  obtained  for  Columbanus  the  gift  of  Liixeuil.  ami  who 
afterwards  intrusted  his  son,  then  a  cliild,  to  the  Irish  abbot 
to  be  trained  in  monastic  life.  They  charged  Agilns 
with  the  mission  of  obtaining  the  abolition  of  this  interdict 
from  the  king  and  queen.  The  young  monk  fell  into  the 
hands  of  a  nephew  of  the  Duke  of  Sequania,  who,  under  pre- 
tence ofliunting,  guarded  the  avenues  of  the  monastery;  but 
by  the  sign  of  the  cross,  he  made  the  sword  fall,  and  withered 
:he  arm  which  was  raised  to  strike  him,  and  was  permitted 
to  proceed  on  his  way.  By  one  of  these  sudden  and  transi- 
tory compunctions  so  frequent  in  the  life  of  the  Merovin- 
gians, Thierry  and  his  grandmother  received  the  envoy  of 
the  monks  with  demonstrations  of  humilit}',  prostrated  them- 
selves before  him,  raised  the  blockade  of  the  monastery,  and 
even  made  him  costly  presents.^*^ 

But  their  hearts  were  not  softened  in  respect  to  Colum- 
banus. He,  surrounded  at  Besan^on  by  the  respect  coiy^,. 
of  all,  and  left  at  freedom  in  the  town,  took  advan-  banusat 
tage  of  it  to  ascend  one  morning  to  the  height  of  a  '^^^'^?°°- 
rock,  on  which  the  citadel  is  now  situated,  and  which  is  en- 
circled by  the  tortuous  stream  of  the  Doubs.*^  From  this 
height  he  surveyed  the  road  which  led  to  Luxeuil ;  he  seemed 
to  investigate  there  the  obstacles  which  prevented  his  re- 
turn. His  resolution  was  taken  ;  he  descended,  left  the  town, 
and  directed  his  steps' towards  his  monastery.  At  the  news 
of  his  return,  Thierry  and  Brunehault  sent  a  count  with  a 
cohort  of  soldiers  to  lead  him  back  into  exile.  Then  ensued 
a  scene  which,  during  twelve  centuries,  and  even  in  our  own 
days,  has  been  often  repeated  between  the  persecutors  and 
their  victims.  The  messengers  of  the  royal  will  found  him 
in  the  choir,  chanting  the  service  with  all  his  community. 
"  Man  of  God,"  they  said,  "  we  pray  3'ou  to  obey  the  king's 
orders  and  ours,  and  to  return  from  whence  you  came." 
"  No,"  answered  Columbanus,  "  after  having  left  my  country 

*''  "  Subobtentu  venantium  .  .  .  'observabant  exitus  monasterii  more  latro- 
mitn.  .  .  .  Rex  et  regina  .  .  .  humo  coram  vestigiis  illius  procumbunt."  — 
Vita  S.  Agili,  c.  7,  8. 

*'  The  description  which  Jonas  gives  of  this  spot  is  even  at  the  present 
time  strikingly  correct,  and  was  especially  so  before  Louis  XIV.,  after  the 
conquest  of  Franche-Comte,  had  demolished  the  cathedral  of  St.  Etienne  and 
all  the  buildings  which  covered  the  sides  of  the  rock:  "  Adscendet  dominica 
die  in  verticem  arduum  ad  cacumen  montis  illius  (ita  enim  situs  urbis  habe- 
tur,  cum  domorum  densitas  in  diflfuso  latere  proclivi  mentis  sita  sit,  prorum- 
pant  ardua  in  sublimibus  cacumina  quae  undique  abscissi  fluininis  Doux  alveo 
vallante  nullatenus  commeantibus  viam  pandit),  ibique  usque  ad  medium  diei 
exspectat,  si  aliquis  iter  ad  monasterium  revertendi  prohibeat." 


562  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

for  the  service  of  Jesus  Christ,  I  cannot  think  that  my  Cre- 
ator means  me  to  return."  At  these  words  the  count  with- 
drew, leaving  the  most  ferocious  of  his  soldiers  to  accom- 
plish the  rest.  Subdued  by  the  firmness  of  the  abbot,  who 
repeated  that  he  would  yield  only  to  force,  they  threw  them- 
selves on  their  knees  before  him,  weeping  and  entreating 
him  to  pardon  them,  and  not  to  oblige  them  to  use  the  vio- 
lence which  they  were  compelled  to  employ,  on  pain  of  their 
life.  At  the  thought  of  a  danger  which  was  no  longer  per- 
sonal to  himself  the  intrepid  Irishman  yielded,  and  left  the 
sanctuary  which  he  had  founded  and  inhabited  for 
twenty  years,  but  which  he  was  never  to  see  again.*^ 

His  monks  surrounded  him  with  lamentations  as  if  they 
were  following  his  funeral.  He  consoled  them  by  telling 
them  that  this  persecution,  far  from  being  ruinous  to  them, 
would  only  promote  the  increase  of  "  the  monastic  nation." 
The}'  would  all  have  followed  him  into  exile  ;  but  a  royal 
order  forbade  that  consolation  to  any  but  the  monks  of  Irish 
or  Britannic  origin.  Brunehault  was  anxious  to  free  herself 
from  these  audacious  and  independent  islanders  as  well  as 
from  their  leader,  but  she  had  no  desire  to  ruin  the  great  es- 
tablishment of  which  Burgundy  was  already  proud.  The 
saint,  accompanied  by  his  Irish  brethren,  departed  into  exile. 

The  history  of  his  journey,  carefully  recorded  by  his  disci- 

42  «»yir  Dei,  precaniur  .  .  .  eo  itinere  quo  primuni  adventasti.  .  .  .  Non 
reor  .  .  .  semel  natali  solo  ob  Christi  timoreni  relicto.  .  .  .  llelictis  quibus- 
dam  quibus  ferocitas  aninii  inerat."  —  Jonas,  c.  36.  How  can  we  fail  to  be 
struck  with  the  identity  of  the  struggles  and  triumphs  of  the  Church  through- 
out all  ages,  when  we  see  what  passed  at  Luxeuil,  in  610,  renewed,  alter 
twelve  centuries,  against  the  poor  monks  in  Caucasia  ?  We  read  in  the 
Journal  des  Dehats  of  April  23,  1845  :  "  We  publish  some  details  of  the  ex- 
pulsion of  the  Catholic  missionaries  from  the  provinces  of  Caucasia.  On  the 
first  day  of  the  year,  two  carts,  escorted  by  Cossacks  armed  witli  lances  and 
pistols,  stopped  before  the  gate  of  the  Convent  of  Tiflis.  Some  of  the  agents 
of  police  immediately  entered  the  convent  and  ordered  the  monks  to  get  into 
the  carts.  The  latter  declared  that  they  would  only  surrender  to  force;  then 
they  entered  the  church  of  the  convent  and  knelt  before  the  altar.  The 
agents  waited  for  some  time ;  but  when  at  the  end  of  an  hour  they  saw  that 
the  monks  did  not  manifest  any  intention  of  obeying,  they  repeated  to  them 
the  order  to  depart.  The  missionaries  answered  that  they  would  not  volun- 
tarily quit  the  post  which  had  been  confided  to  them  by  their  spiritual  head. 
This  answer  was  conveyed  to  General  Gurko,  Governor  of  Tiflis,  who  ordered 
them  to  be  brought  out  by  force  and  removed  into  the  carts.  The  order  was 
immediately  executed.  The  missionaries  of  Gori  were  expelled  in  the  same 
manner."  The  same  journal  relates,  in  its  next  day's  number,  how  similar 
violences  were  exercised,  no  longer  in  the  Caucasus,  but  in  France,  upon  the 
Hospitaller  nuns  of  St.  Joseph  at  Avignon,  in  the  same  month  of  April,  1845. 
The  expulsion  of  the  Irish  and  English  monks  of  La  Trappe  of  Melleray,  in 
1831,  bears  also  some  features  of  resemblance  to  the  history  of  Luxeuil. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  563 

pies,  is  full  of  information  respecting  the  places  and  Hiaiourney 
customs  of  Frankish  Gaul.  He  was  taken  through  *°,f''ufj"" 
Besan9on  a  second  time,  then  through  Autun,  Aval-  N.-inu-s. 
Ion,  along  the  Cure  and  the  Yonne  to  Auxerre,  and  from 
thence  to  Nevers,  where  he  embarked  upon  the  Loire.  He 
marked  each  stage  of  his  journey  by  miraculous  cures  and 
other  wonders,  which,  nevertheless,  did  not  diminish  the 
rancor  which  he  had  excited.  On  the  road  to  Avallon,  ho 
met  an  equerry  of  King  Thierry,  who  attempted  to  pierce 
him  with  his  lance.  At  Nevers,  at  the  moment  of  embarking, 
a  cruel  hanger-on  of  the  escort  took  an  oar  and  struck  Liia, 
one  of  the  most  pious  of  Columbanus's  companions,  to  quicken 
his  entrance  into  the  boat.  The  saint  cried,  •'  Cruel  wretch, 
what  rio-ht  hast  thou  to  ao-^ravate  mv  trouble?  How  d;irest 
thou  to  strike  the  weary  members  of  Christ  ?  Remember 
that  the  divine  vengeance  shall  await  thee  on  this  spot  where 
thou  hast  struck  the  servant  of  God."  And  in  fact,  on  his 
return,  this  wretch  fell  into  the  water  and  was  drowned  on 
the  very  spot  where  he  had  struck  Lua.'*^ 

Arrived  at  Orleans,  he  sent  two  of  his  brethren  into  the 
town  to  buy  provisions  ;  but  no  one  would  either  sell  or  give 
them  anything  in  opposition  to  the  royal  orders.  They  were 
treated  as  outlaws  —  enemies  of  the  king,  whom  the  Salic 
law  forbade  his  subjects  to  receive,  under  the  penalty  (enor- 
mous in  those  days)  of  six  hundred  deniers.  Even  the 
churches  were  closed  against  them  by  the  king's  orders. 
But,  in  retracing  their  steps,  they  met  a  Syrian  ^  Syrian 
woman,  one  of  that  Oriental  colony  whose  presence  woman  re- 
in  Gaul  has  been  already  remarked  under  Childe-  iiospitabiy 
bert  I.  She  asked  them  whence  they  came,  and,  on  "^^  ^'' '^''^"^• 
hearing,  offered  them  hospitality,  and  gave  them  all  that  they 
needed.  ''I  am  a  stranger  like  you,"  she  said,  "and  1  come 
from  the  distant  sun  of  the  East."  She  had  a  blind  husband, 
to  whom  Columbanus  restored  sight.  The  people  of  Orleans 
were  touched  by  this  incident;  but  they  dared  only  testify 
their  veneration  for  the  exile  in  secret.^* 

43  i(  Yeiut  funus  subsequentibus.  .  .  .  Ob  multiplicandas  plebes  mona- 
chorum  banc  esse  datum  occasionein.  .  .  .  Quos  sui  ortus  terra  dederat,  vel 
qui  a  I3rit;innico  arvo  ipsum  secuti.  .  .  .  Gustos  equorum  .  .  .  occurrit.  .  .  . 
Ubi  lento  conamine  in  scapliam  insilirent.  .  .  .  Arrepto  renio.  .  .  •  Cur  cru- 
delis  moerorera  mihi  addis."  —  Jonas,  c.  36,  38,  40.  Mabillon  (Annal.,  t.  i. 
p.  293)  supposes  that  this  Lua  might  be  the  Irish  saint  of  whom  St.  Bernard 
speaks  as  having  founded  a  hundred  monasteries ;  but  notliing  could  be  more 
improbable. 

"  Lex  Salica,  art.  56,  edit.  Merkel.  Roth,  Benefizialwesen,  p.  140. 
"  Regio  timore  aut  vendere  aut  dare  nihil  audebant.  .  .  .  Nam  et  ego  advena 


564  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

Passing  before  the  town  of  Tours,  Colural)anus  Leg-g'td  to 
be  permitted  to  pray  at  the  tomb  of  the  great  St.  Martin,  who 
was  equally  venerated  by  the  Celts,  Romans,  and  Franks ; 
but  his  savage  guardians  ordered  the  boatmen  to  increase 
the  speed  of  tlieir  oars,  and  keep  in  the  middle  of  the  stream. 
However,  an  invisible  force  stayed  the  boat  ;  it  directed 
itself  towards  the  port.  Columbanus  landed,  and  spent  the 
night  near  the  holy  tomb.  The  Bishop  of  Tours  found  him 
there,  and  took  him  to  dine  in  his  house.  At  table  he  was 
asked  why  he  was  returning  to  his  own  country.  He  an- 
Rwered,  "  This  dog  of  a  Thierry  iias  hunted  me  from  the  home 
cf  my  brethren."  Then  one  of  the  company,  who  was  a  leude 
oi  trusty  vassal  of  the  king,  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  Would  it 
not  be  better  to  give  men  milk  to  drink  rather  than  worm- 
wood ?  "  "  I  see,"  answered  Columbanus,  "  that  thou  wouldst 
keep  thy  oath  to  King  Thierry.  Well  !  say  to  thy  friend  and 
thy  lord,  that  three  years  from  this  time  he  and  his  children 
will  be  destroyed,  and  that  his  whole  race  shall  be  rooted 
out  by  God."  "  Why  do  j^ou  speak  thus,  servant  of  God  ?  " 
said  the  leude.  "  I  cannot  keep  silent,"  answered  the  saint, 
"  what  God  has  charged  me  to  speak."  ^^ 
His  letter  Arrived  at  Nantes,  and  on  the  eve  of  leaving  the 

mon^ks  of  ^0^'  ^^  Gaul,  his  thoughts  turned  towards  Luxeuil, 
Luxeuii.  and  he  wrote  a  letter,  which  begins  thus:  "To  his 
dearest  sons,  his  dearest  pupils,  to  his  brethren  in  abstinence, 
to  all  the  monks,  Columbanus  the  sinner."  In  this  he  pours 
out  his  heart.  Obscure,  confused,  passionate,  interrupted  by 
a  thousand  different  recollections  and  emotions,  this  letter  is, 
notwithstanding,  the  most  complete  monument  of  his  genius 
and  character  which  Columbanus  has  left  to  us.  With  these 
personal  sentiments  his  concern  for  the  present  and  future 
destiny  of  his  beloved  community  of  Luxeuil  is  aUvays 
mingled.  He  sets  forth  the  arrangements  most  likel}^,  as  he 
believes,  to  guarantee  its  existence,  by  purity  of  elections  and 
internal  harmony.  He  seems  even  to  foresee  the  immen:.'e 
development  of  monastic  colonies  which  was  to  proceed  from 
Luxeuil,  in  a  passage  where  he  says,  "  Wherever  sites  are 
suitable,  wherever  God  will  build  with  j^ou,  go  and  multiply, 
you  and  the  myriads  of  souls  which  shall  be  born  of  you."  ^'^ 

surr  ex  longinquo  Orientis  sole  .  .  .  vir  meus  ex  eodem  genera  Syiorum  sicut 
et  ego."  —  Jonas,  c.  41. 

**  "  Canis  me  Tlicodoricus  meis  a  iVatribus  abegit.  .  .  .  Humili  voce  .  .  . 
•i  melius  esset  lacte  potari  quum  absynthio?  .  .  .  Cognosco  te  regis  Theo* 
dorici  toedera  velle  servare.  .  .  .  Amico  tuo  et  domino." 

'"'  'Si  voro  vobis  placent,  et  Deus  il'ic  vobiscum  aedificat,  crescite  ibi  bene* 
dictiune  in  niille  raillia." 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  565 

It  is  specially  deliglitful  to  see  how,  in  that  austere  anH 
proud  soul,  friendship  and  paternal  affection  preserve  all  tlieir 
risrhts.  He  recalls  to  mind  with  tender  solicitude  a  brother 
who  was  not  present  at  the  moment  of  his  farewell ;  "  Always 
take  care,"  he  says,  "  of  Waldolenus,  if  he  is  still  with  you. 
May  God  give  him  everything  that  is  good  ;  may  he  become 
humble  :  and  give  him  for  me  the  kiss  which  I  could  not  give 
him  myself."  He  exhorts  his  monks  to  confidence,  spiritual 
strength,  patience,  but,  above  all,  to  peace  and  union.  He 
foresees  in  that  perpetual  question  about  Easter  a  cause  of 
division;  and  he  desires  that  those  who  would  disturb  the 
peace  of  the  house  sliould  be  dismissed  from  it.  Confessions, 
counsels,  and  exhortations  crowd  upon  his  pen.  He  some- 
times addresses  the  whole  community,  sometimes  a  monk 
called  Attains,  whom  he  had  named  as  his  successor. 

"  Thou  knowest,  my  well-beloved  Attains,  how  little  advan- 
tage it  is  to  form  only  one  body  if  there  is  not  also  one 
heart.  ...  As  for  me,  my  soul  is  rent  asunder.  1  have  de- 
sired to  serve  everybody,  I  have  trusted  everybody,  and  it 
has  made  me  almost  mad.  Be  thou  wiser  than  I :  I  would 
not  see  thee  taking  up  the  burden  under  which  I  have 
sweated.  To  bind  all  in  the  enclosure  of  the  Rule,  1  have 
attempted  to  attach  again  to  the  root  of  our  tree  all  those 
h>ranches  whose  frailty  had  separated  them  from  mine.  .  .  . 
However,  thou  art  already  better  acquainted  with  it  than  I. 
Thou  wilt  know  how  to  adapt  its  precepts  to  each.  Thou 
wilt  take  into  account  the  great  diversit>^  of  character  among 
men.  Thou  wilt  then  diversify  tli3^self,  thou  wilt  multiply 
thyself  for  the  good  of  those  who  shall  obey  thee  with  faitli 
and  love,  and  yet  must  still  fear  lest  that  very  love  should 
become  for  thee  a  danger.  But  what  is  this  that  I  do?  Be- 
hold how  I  persuade  thee  to  undertake  the  immense  labor 
from  which  1  myself  have  stolen  away  !  " 

Further  on,  grief  carries  him  awa}',  and  bursts  forth  only 
to  yield  immediately  to  invincible  courage:  and  the  recollec- 
tions of  classic  antiquity  mingle  with  evangelical  instructions 
to  dictate  to  our  Irishman  some  of  the  finest  and  proudest 
words  which  Christian  genius  has  ever  produced.  "  I  had 
at  first  meant  to  write  thee  a  letter  of  sorrow  and  tears,  but 
knowing  well  that  thy  heart  is  overwhehued  Avith  cares  and 
labors,  I  have  changed  my  style,  I  havo  sought  to  dry  thy 
tears  rather  than  to  call  them  forth.  I  have  permitted  only 
gentleness  to  be  seen  outside,  and  chained  down  grief  in  the 
depths  of  my  soul.     But  my  own  tears   begin  to  flow  I     ] 

VOL.  1.  48 


oG6  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

must  drive  them  back  ;  for  it  does  not  become  a  good  soldier 
to  weep  ia  front  of  the  battle.  After  all,  this  that  has  hap- 
pened to  ns  is  nothing  new.  Is  it  not  what  we  have  preached 
every  day?  Was  there  not  of  old  a  philosopher  wiser  than 
the  others,  who  was  thrown  into  prison  for  maintaining, 
against  the  opinion  of  all,  that  there  was  but  one  God  ?  The 
gospels  also  are  full  of  all  that  is  necessary  to  encourage  us. 
They  were  written  for  that  purpose,  to  teach  the  true  dis- 
ciples of  Christ  crucified  to  follow  him,  bearing  their  cross. 
Our  perils  are  many :  the  struggle  which  threatens  us  is 
severe,  and  the  enemy  terrible  ;  but  the  recompense  is  glo- 
rious, and  the  freedom  of  our  choice  is  manifest.  Without 
adversaries,  no  conflict;  and  without  conflict,  no  crown. 
Where  the  struggle  is,  there  is  courage,  vigilance,  fervor, 
patience,  fidelity,  wisdom,  firmness,  prudence :  out  of  the 
fight,  misery  and  disaster.  Thus,  then,  without  war,  no 
crown  !     And  I  add,  without  freedom,  no  honor  !  " 

However,  he  had  to  come  to  a  conclusion,  and  knew  not 
how  to  do  it ;  for  he  always  begins  again,  and  often  repeats 
himself  But  others  interrupted  and  put  an  end  to  the  out- 
pouring of  his  heart.  "  While  I  write,"  says  he,  "  they  come 
to  tell  me  that  the  ship  is  ready  —  the  ship  which  is  to  carry 
me  back  against  my  will  to  my  country.  .  .  .  The  end  of  my 
parchment  obliges  me  to  finish  my  letter.  Love  is  not  or- 
derly :  it  is  this  which  has  made  it  confused.  1  vvould  have 
abridged  everything  that  I  might  say  everything:  I  have  not 
succeeded.  Adieu,  dear  hearts  ;  pray  for  me  that  I  may  live 
in  God."  47 

'^  ■'  Dulcissimis  filiis.  discentibus  carissimis,  fratribus  frugalibus,  cunctis 
simul  monacliis.  .  .  .  Semper  Waldolenum  tene  .  .  .  humilis  fiat :  et  nieura 
illi  da  osculum  quod  tunc  festiiians  non  liabuit.  .  .  .  Tu  scis,  aniantissime 
Attale  .  .  .  quid  enim  prodest  habere  corpus,  et  non  habere  cor?  .  .  .  Dum 
volui  totos  adjuvare  .  .  .  et  dum  omnibus  credidi  pene,  factus  sum  stultus. 
Ideo  tu  prudentior  esto :  nolo  subeas  tantum  onus,  sub  quo  ego  sudavi.  .  .  . 
Ergo  diversus  esto,  et  multiplex  ad  curam  eorum.  qui  tibi  obedierint  cum 
fide  et  amore  :  sed  tu  et  ipsum  eorum  time  amorem,  quia  tibi  periculosus  erit. 
.  .  .  Lacryraosam  tibi  volui  scribere  epistolam :  sed  quia  scio  cor  tuura 
idcirco  necessariis  tantum  allegatis,  duris  et  ipsis  arduisque,  altero  stylo 
usus  sum,  malens  obturare  quam  provocare  lacrymas.  Eoris  itaque  actus  est 
sermo  mitis,  intus  inclusus  i,  st  dolor.  En  promanant  lacryms;  sed  melius 
es  obturare  fontem  :  non  enim  lortis  e.-t  militis  plorare.  Non  est  lioc  novum 
quod  nobis  contigit:  lio<'  maxima  quotidie  prffidicabanms.  Quidam  philoso- 
plms  olim,  sapier.tior  ceteris,  eo  quod  conlra  omnium  opinionem  ununi  Deum 
esse  dixerit,  in  carcerem  trusu>  est.  Evangelia  plena  sunt  de  hac  causa  et 
inde  sunt  maxime  couscrii)ta  :  baec  est  enim  Veritas  Evangelii,  ut  vere  Cl'r'.st) 
crucifixi  discipuli  euTU  sequantur  cum  cruee.  .  .  .  Multa  carne  pericula : 
cognosce  causam  belli,  gloriae  maguitndiiiem,  tbrtem  non  nescias  hostem,  et 
libl'rlatem  in  medio  arliitrii.  ...  Si  lollis  hostem,  tollis  et  pugnam.  Si 
toUis  pugnam,  tullis  et  coronam.   ...  Si   tollis   libertatem,  tollis  dignitatem. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  567 

The  bishop  and  count  of  Nantes  hastened  the  departure ; 
but  the  Irish  vessel  in  which  the  property  and  companions 
of  Columbanus  were  embarked,  and  to  which  he  was  to  go 
in  a  boat,  being  then  at  the  month  of  the  Loire,  was  cast 
back  by  the  waves,  and  remained  three  days  ashore  upon  the 
beach.  Then  the  captain  landed  the  monks  and  all  that  be- 
longed to  them,  and  continued  his  voyage.  Columbanus  was 
permitted  to  go  where  he  would. 

He  directed  his  steps  towards  the  court  of  the  Heroes  to 
King  of  Soissons  and  Neustria,  Clotaire  II.,  who,  ^'/■'^NiuftHa 
after  an  unfortunate  war  with  the  kings  of  Aus-  anri  aus- 
trasia  and  Burgundy,  had  been  despoiled  of  the 
greater  part  of  Neustria,  and  reduced  to  the  possession  of 
twelve  counties  between  the  right  bank  of  the  Seine  and 
the  Channel.^^  This  son  of  Fredegund,  faithful  to  his 
mother's  hatred  for  Brunehault  and  her  family,  gave  a  cor- 
dial reception  to  the  victim  of  his  enemy,  endeavored  to 
retain  him  in  his  court,  received  with  a  good  grace  the  re- 
monstrances which  the  undaunted  apostle,  always  faithful  to 
his  part  of  public  censor,  addressed  to  hira  upon  the  disor- 
ders of  his  court,  and  promised  amendment.  He  consulted 
Columbanus  about  the  quarrel  which  had  broken  out  between 
the  two  brothers,  Theodebert  and  Thierry,  both  of  whom 
asked  Lis  assistance.  Columbanus  advised  him  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it,  since  in  three  years  both  their  king- 
doms would  fall  into  his  power.  He  afterwards  asked  an 
escort  to  conduct  him  to  Theodebert,  king  of  Metz,  or  Aus- 
trasia,  wdiose  states  he  desired  to  cross  on  his  way  to  Italy. 
Passing  through  Paris,  Meaux,  and  Champagne,  the  chiefs 
of  the  Frank  nobility  brought  their  children  to  him,  and  he 
blet^'Sed  many,  destined,  as  shall  be  seen,  to  inherit  his  spirit 
and  extend  his  work.  Theodebert,  now  at  war  with  his 
brotlier  Thierry,  gave  the  exiled  abbot  the  same  reception  as 
('lotaire  II.  had  done,  but  was  equally  unsuccessful  in  retain- 
ing him. 

At  the  court  of  the  king  of  Austrasia,  which  was  not  far 
from  Burgundy,  he  had  the  consolation  of  seeing  several  of 

.  .  .  Nunc  mihi  scribenli  r-incius  supervenit,  narrans  mihi  navera  parari. 
Amoi-  non  tenet  ordinem ;  inde  missa  confusa  est.  Totura  dicere  volui  in 
brevi.  Totum  non  potui.  .  .  .  Orate  pro  me,  viscera  niea,  ut  Deo  vivam." 
—  Epist.,  iv.,  ap.  Gallandus,  Bibl.   Veter.  Patrum,  t.  xii.  p.  319. 

**  Thierry  bad  added,  on  that  occasion,  all  tlie  country  between  Seine  an(J 
Loire  to  tlie  ancient  Icingdom  of  Orleans  and  Burgundy.  Tliis  explains  wliy 
his  authority  was  recognized  in  all  the  countries  traversed  by  Columbanus 
even  to  Nantes. 


568  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

bis  brethren  of  Luxeuil,  who  escaped  to  rejoin  him.  At  their 
)iead,  and  encouraged  by  the  promises  and  eager  protection 
of  Theodebert,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  preach  the  faith 
^gjjg_  among  the  still  pagan  nations  who  were  subject  to 
comes  a  the  Austrasiau  government,  and  inhabited  the  coun- 
missiouary.  ^^^-^^^  about  the  Rhine.  This  had  always  been  his 
ambition,  his  inclination,  and  the  work  he  preferred.*^  After 
sixty  years  of  labor  devoted  to  the  reform  of  kings  and  nations 
already  Christian,  he  began  the  second  phase  of  his  life  — 
that  of  preaching  to  the  infidels. 

He  consequently  embarked  upon  the  Rhine,  below  May- 
ence,  and  ascending  this  river  and  its  tributaries  as  far  as  the 
Lake  of  Zurich,  remained  for  some  time  at  Tuggen,^''  and  at 
Arbon,  finding  here  and  there  some  traces  of  Christianity 
sown  under  the  Roman  or  Frank  government,^!  and  estab- 
lished himself  finally  at  Bregentz,  upon  the  Lake  of  Con- 
w,=,.v,o.,„„   stance,  amid  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  Roman  town. 

Hismission  '  ... 

among  the  The  Sucves  and  Alamans  {Alamanni),  subject  to 
with  St.  the  Franks  since  the  victory  of  Clovis  at  Tolbiac, 
^''^^*  who  then  occupied  all  Eastern  Helvetia,  were,  with 

all  the  country  between  the  Aar,  the  Alps,  and  the  Lech, 
idolaters,  worshippers  of  the  god  Woden,  and  of  violent  and 
cruel  disposition.  In  announcing  the  Gospel  to  them,  Colum- 
banas  displayed  all  the  impetuosity  of  his  temper,  which  age 
had  not  lessened.  His  principal  assistant  was  another  Irishman 
named  Gall,  who  was  not  less  daring  than  himself,  but  who 
was  well  educated,  and  had  the  gift  of  preaching  in  the  Ger- 
man language  as  well  as  in  the  Latin.  Sometimes  they  broke 
the  boilers  in  which  the  pagans  prepared  beer,^^  to  offer  aa  a 

*'  "  Mei  voti  fuit  gentes  visitare  et  Evangelium  eis  a  nobis  praedioari :  sod  fel 
modo  referente  eonim  toporem,  pone  meuni  tulit  inde  amoreiu." — Epist.  ad 
Fr  aires. 

""  The  new  BoUandists  (t.  vii.  Oct.  p.  870)  prove  that  this  was  not  at 
Zug,  as  all  former  historians  liave  said,  but  at  Tiiggen,  whicli  is  situated  at 
the  point  wliere  the  Linimat  enters  the  Lake  of  Zurich,  and  wliich  answers 
to  the  description  of  the  iiagiographer :  "  Ad  caput  lacus,  in  locum  qui  Tuc- 
conia  chcitur."  —  Vit.  S.  Galli,  c.  4. 

*'  We  shall  be  pardoned  for  not  giving  the  legend  of  St.  Fridolin,  another 
Irisl)  monk,  to  whom  was  attributed  a  first  mission  into  Alamannia  and  the 
foundation  of  Soeckingen,  on  tlie  Rhine,  between  Bale  and  Sc:haffhausen. 
Compare  Mabillon,  Ann.  Bened.,  t.  i.  p.  221,  and  Rettberg,  t.  ii.  p.  33. 

°*  The  Italian  monk  who  has  written  the  life  of  Colunibanus  speaks  else- 
where of  beer  as  the  national  drink  of  the  races  which  were  not  Roman  : 
'•  Cerevisia  qute  ex  frumenti  et  hordei  succo  excoquitur,  quanique  prae  caeteria 
in  orbe  terrarum  gentibus,  prajter  Scoticas  et  barbaras  gentes  quae  oceanuui 
incolunt,  usitatur  in  Gallia,  Britannia,  Hibernia,  Germania,  caeteraeqiie  quaa 
ab  eorum  moribus  non  desisaant." — Compare  Vit.  S.  Salabergce,  c.  19,  ap. 
Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  ii.  407. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  5G9 

sacrifice  to  Woden  ;  sometimes  tliey  burned,  the  temples,  and 
threw  into  the  kd^e  the  gilded  idols  Avhom  the  inhabitants 
showed  them  as  the  tutelary  gods  of  their  country.  Such 
proceedings  naturally  excited  against  them  the  fury  of  the 
natives,  and  exposed  them  to  great  dangers.  They  had  to 
flee  to  Zug,  from  which  they  were  expelled  with  blows.  At 
Bregentz  the}^  had  more  success,  and  made  some  conver- 
sions, but  without  appeasing  the  rage,  or  conciliating  the 
liking,  of  the  mass  of  the  people.  The  little  colony,  however, 
remained  there  for  three  years.  They  resumed  cenobitical 
life.  They  had  at  first  to  contend  against  hunger;  for  the 
inhabitants  would  give  them  nothing.  The}^  had  to  live  upon 
wild  birds,  which  came  to  them  like  the  manna  to  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel,  or  upon  woodland  fruits,  which  they  had  to 
dispute  with  the  beasts  of  the  forests.  But  they  had  soon  a 
garden  of  vegetables  and  fruit-trees.  Fish  was  also  a  re- 
source; Columbanus  liimself  made  the  nets;  Gall,  the  learned 
and  eloquent  preacher,  threw  them  into  the  lake,  and  had 
considerable  drauo-hts.  One  nifjlit,  while  he  watched  in 
silence  in  his  boat  among  his  nets,  he  heard  the  demon  of  the 
mountain  call  to  the  demon  of  the  ^yaters.  "Here  I  am,'"  an- 
swered the  latter.  "  Arise  then,'^  said  the  first,  "  and  Dialogue 
help  me  to  chase  away  the  strangers  who  have  ex-  deoToifs'on 
pelled  me  from  my  temple;  it  will  require  us  both  tiieiake. 
to  drive  them  away."  "  What  good  should  we  do  ?  "  answered 
the  demon  of  the  Waters;  "here  is  one  of  them  upon  the 
waterside  whose  nets  I  have  tried  to  break,  but  1  have  never 
succeeded.  He  prays  continually,  and  never  sleeps.  It  will  be 
labor  in  vain  ;  we  shall  make  nothing  of  it."  Then  Gall  made 
the  sign  of  tlie  cross,  and  said  to  them,  "In  the  name  tf 
Jesus  Christ,  I  command  you  to  leave  these  regions  without 
daring  to  injure  any  one."  Then  he  hastened  to  land  and 
awoke  the  abbot,  who  immediately  rang  the  bells  for  noctur- 
nal service  ;  but  before  the  first  psalm  had  been  intoned,  they 
heard  the  yells  of  the  demons  echoing  from  the  tops  of  the 
surrounding  hills,  at  first  with  fury,  then  losing  themselves 
in  the  distance,  and  dying  away  like  the  confused  voices  of 
a  routed  army.^^ 

*•'  "  Isti  sunt  dii  veteres,  et  antiqui  hujus  locis  tutores.  .  .  •  Non  solum 
latin:B,  seel  etiani  barbaricse  sermonis  cognitionem  non  parvam  habebat.  .  .  . 
Jra  et  furore  commoti,  gravi  inJignationis  rabie  turbidi  recesserunt.  .  .  . 
Audivit  daemonem  de  culmine  montis  pari  suo  clamantem  qui  erat  in  abdltis 
maris,  quo  respondente :  Adsum :  Montanus  .  .  .  Consurge  ...  in  adjuto- 
rium  milii  .  .  .  Heus  quod  de  tuis  calaiuitatibus  narras.  .  .  .  En  uniis  illo 
rum  est  in  pelago  cui  nunquam  nocere  potero.  .  .  .  Auditae  sunt  dira  i  oces 
48* 


570  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

To  this  fine  legend,  which  depicts  so  well  all  that  could 
move  the  soul  of  these  intrepid  missionaries  upon  a  coast  so 
long  inhospitable,  we  must  add  the  vision  which  deterred 
Columbanus  from  undertaking  a  still  more  distant  and  difll- 
Coiumba-  ^'^^^^  mission.  He  was  pursued  by  the  thought  of 
nus  -ives  bearing  the  light  of  the  Gospel  among  the  Sclave 
thou!%tof  nations,  and  especially  among  the  Wendes,  whose 
thcsciave  couutry  extended  into  the  midst  of  the  Germanic 
nations.  races,  and  to  the  soutli  of  the  Danube.  Like  St. 
Patrick,  the  remembrance  of  the  nations  who  knew  not 
Christ  pursued  him  into  his  sleep.  One  night  he  saw  in  a 
dream  an  angel,  who  said  to  him,  "  The.  world  is  before  thee  ; 
take  the  I'ight  hand  or  the  left  hand,  but  turn  not  aside. from 
thy  road,  if  thou  wouldst  eat  the  fruit  of  th}'-  labors."^*  He 
interpreted  this  dream  into  a  sign  that  he  should  have  no 
success  in  the  enterprise  of  which  he  dreamed,  and  accord- 
ingly abandoned  it. 

The  Sclaves  formed,  as  is  well  known,  with  the  Celts  and 
Germans,  the  third  of  the  great  races  which  occupied  Central 
Europe.  If  Columbanus,  a  Celt  by  origin  and  education,  but 
a  monk  and  missionary  for  almost  all  his  life  among  the  Ger- 
mans, had  entered  the  countries  already  invaded  by  Scla- 
vonian  tribes,  his  influence  would  have  been  brought  to  bear 
upon  all  the  families  of  nations  who  have  predominated  in 
modern  Christendom.  This  glory  was  denied  to  him  :  it  was 
enough  for  him  to  have  been  one  of  the  most  illustrious  of 
those  intermediary  agents  who  have  labored  under  the  im- 
pulse of  Christianity  for  the  fusion  of  the  two  greatest  races 
of  the  West. 

„     ,  During  this  soiourn  at  Breo:entz,  our  saint  went, 

toTheo-  it  is  not  known  on  what  occasion,  to  see  King 
dfbert.  Theodcbert,  who  was  still  at  war  with  his  brother, 
the  King  of  Burgundy,     Enlightened  by  a  presentiment,  and 

daemonorum  per  montium  summitates,  et  quasi  discedentium  ejulatus  cum 
terrore  confusus." —  Walafr.  Strabo.,  Vit.  S.  Galli,  c.  4,  6,  7,  ap.  Pi:nrz, 
Monumenta,  ii.  7;  Bolland.,  t.  vii.  Oct.,  p.  884;  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  ii.  221. 
Compare  Jonas,  c.  o-t,  55;  Kemble,  Saxons  in  England,  t.  i.  p.  380;  lastlj', 
OzANAM,  Etudes  Germaniques,  ii.  122,  who,  as  usual,  lias  coinpletelv  an>l 
nobly  discussed  the  mission  of  Columbanus  and  his  companions  in  Helvetia. 
Tiie  monastery  of  Melirerau,  wliich  Columbanus  founded,  at  the  gates  of  the 
present  town  of  Bregenz.  has  just  been  re-established  by  a  colony  of  Cis- 
tercians, unworthily  expelled  by  the  Argovian  liadicals  from  their  secular 
patrimony  at  VVettingen,  near  Aarau. 

**  "  Cogitatio  in  mentem  ruit,  ut  Venetiorum,  qui  et  Sclavi  dicuntur,  ter- 
minos  adiret.  .  .  .  Cernis  quod  maneat  lotus  orbis  descriptus?"  —  Jonas, 
c.  66.     Wendes  are  still  to  be  found  in  Styria  and  Carinthia. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  571 

inspired  by  gratitude  to  tiiis  young  prince,  he  counselled  him 
to  yield,  and  take  rei'uge  in  the  bosom  of  the  Church,  by  be- 
coming a  monk,  instead  of  risking  at  once  his  kingdom  and 
his  salvation.  Theodebert  had,  besides,  great  need  of  expi- 
ating his  sins  :  very  profligate,  like  all  the  Merovingians,  he 
had  just  killed  Queen  Bilicliild,  a  young  slave  vidiom  his 
grand Qiother  Brunehault  had  marie  him  marry  in  his  youth, 
in  order  to  be  able  to  take  another  wife.  The  advice  of 
Columbanus  caused  great  laughter  to  the  king  and  all  the 
Franks  who  surrounded  him.  •'  Such  a  thing  has  never  been 
heard  of,"  said  they,  ''  as  that  a  Frank  king  should  become  a 
monk  of  his  own  free  will."  "  Well  "  said  Columbanus,  in 
the  middle  of  their  exclamations,  "  if  ho  will  not  be  a  monk 
of  free  will,  he  will  be  one  by  force."  ^^  Saying  this,  the 
saint  returned  to  his  cell  on  the  banks  of  Lake  Constance. 
He  learned  soon  after  that  his  persecutor,  Thierry,  had  again 
invaded  the  states  of  his  protector  Theodebert,  and  bad 
routed  and  pursued  the  latter  to  the  gates  of 
Cologne.  The  decisive  battle  between  the  two 
brothers  took  place  on  the  plains  of  Tolbiac,  where  their 
great-grandfather  Clovis  had  founded,  by  victory,  the  Chris- 
tian knigdom  of  the  Franks.^^  Theodebert  was  van-  Defeat  and 
quished  and  taken  :  Thierry  sent  him  to  the  impla-  x^.^ode-^ 
cable  Brunehault,  who  had  long  disowned  him  as  bert. 
her  grandson,  and  who,  still  furious  at  her  expulsion  from 
the  kingdom  of  Austrasia,  had  his  head  shaved,  made  him 
assume  the  monastic  dress,  and  shortly  after  put  him  to 
death. 

At  the  time  when  the  second  battle  of  Tolbiac  was  going 
071,  Columbanus  was  wandering  in  a  wood  near  his  retreat 
with  his  favorite  disciple  Cagnoald,  a  young  and  noble  Frank, 
son  of  one  of  the  principal  leudes  of  Theodebert,  whom  he 
had  brought  with  him  i'rom  the  neighborhood  of  Meaux.  As 
he  was  readnig,  seated  upon  the  fallen  trunk  of  an  old  oak, 
he  slept,  and  saw  in  a  dream  the  two  brothers  coming  to 
blows.  At  his  waking  he  told  his  companion  of  this  vision, 
sighing  over  all  that  bloodshed.  The  son  of  Tlieodebert's 
minister  answered  him,  '*  But,  dear  father,  help  Theodebert 

""  "  Ridiculum  excitavit :  aiebant  enim  nunquam  se  audiisse  Merovingiim 
in  regno  sublimatum  voluntarium  clericum  t'uisse.  Detestantibus  ergo  omni- 
bus."—  Jonas,  c.  57.  Tins  recalls  the  words  of  Childebert,  quoted  by  Greg- 
ory of  Tours:  "  Was  ever  a  Merovingian  shaven?"  and  the  famous  saying 
of  ClotiHe  concerning  her  grandsons  :  "  Better  tJiat  they  be  dead  than  sha- 
ven."    See  tlie  preceding  Book,  p.  4G1,  note. 

*^  Henei  Martin,  ii.  118. 


572  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

with  your  prayers,  that  he  may  overcome  Thierry,  your  com- 
mon enemy."  Columbanus  ansv/ered  him,  ''  Thou  givest  me 
a  foolish  counsel ;  not  such  was  the  will  of  our  Lord,  who 
commands  us  to  pray  for  our  enemies."  ^'' 

However,  the  whole  of  Austrasia  had  fallen  by  the  death 
of  Theodebert  into  the  hands  of  Brunehault  and  Thierry,  and 
the  banks  of  the  upper  Rhine,  where  their  victim  had  found 
a  rofuge,  was  a  dependency  of  the  Austrasian  kingdom.  Be-. 
sides,  the  inhabitants  of  the  environs  of  Bregentz,  always 
irritated  by  the  violent  destruction  of  their  idols,  complained 
to  the  duke  of  the  province  that  these  strangers  scared  the 
game  of  the  royal  chase,  by  infesting,  the  forests  with  their 
presence.  Their  cows  were  stolen,  two  of  the  monks  were 
even  slain  in  an  ambuscade.  It  was  necessary  to  depart. 
Columbanus  said, 'MVe  have  found  a  golden  cup,  but  it  is 
full  of  serpents.  The  God  whom  we  serve  will  lead  us  else- 
where." He  had  long  desired  to  go  to  Italy,  and  reckoned 
on  a  good  reception  from  the  king  of  the  Lonabards.  At  the 
moment  of  departure,  the  fiery  Gaul,  seized  with  fever,  asked 
leave  to  remain.  Columbanus  was  irritated  by  this  weakness. 
"Ah,  my  brother,"  said  he,  '-art  thou  already  disgusted  with 
the  labors  I  have  made  thee  endure  ?  But  since  thou  wilt 
separate  thyself  from  me,  I  debar  thee,  as  long  as  I  live,  from 
saying  mass."  ^^  Poor  Gall  did  not  deserve  these  reproaches  ; 
he  remained  in  Helvetia,  as  will  be  seen,  only  to  redouble  the 
zeal  of  his  apostolic  labors,  and  to  found  there  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  monasteries  in  Christendom. 
Coiumba-  Columbauus  kept  with  him  only  a  single  disciple, 

nus  crosses  Attaius,  and,  notwithstanding,  pursued  his  journey 
and  reaches  across  the  Alps.  When  we  picture  to  ourselves  the 
Lomburdy.  f^^jgue^  ^jjjj  dangers  of  such  an  undertaking  in  the 
days  of  Columbanus,  we  imagine  that  it  was  the  image  and 
recollection  of  this  course  which  inspired  the  beginning  of 
one  of  the  instructions  addressed  to  his  monks,  in  wliich  the 
unwearied  traveller  compares  life  to  a  journey. 

"  Oh  mortal  life  !  how  many  hast  thou  deceived,  seduced, 
and  blinded!  Thou  fliest  and  art  nothing;  thou  appearest 
and  art  but  a  shade  ;  thou  risest  and  art  but  a  vapor ;  thou 

*^  *' Super  quercus  putrefaetas  truncum  libruni  legensresidebat.  .  .  .  Tater 
mi  .  .  .  ut  eommunem  debellet  hostem." — Jonas,  57. 

**  "  Discentes  venationeni  publicam  propter  illorum  infestationem  pere- 
grinorum  esse  turbatam.  .  .  .  Invenimus  .  .  .  concham  auream,  sed  veiiena- 
tis  serpentibus  plenain.  .  .  .  Scio,  frater,  jam  tibi  onerosum  esse  tantis  pro 
u»e  laboribus  fatigari."  —  Vita  S.  Galli,  c.  8,  9. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  573 

fliest  every  day,  and  every  day  thou  comest ;  thoii  fliest  iu 
coming,  and  comest  in  flying,  the  same  at  the  point  of  de- 
parture, different  at  the  end  ;  sweet  to  the  foolish,  bitter  to 
the  wise  ;  those  who  love  thee  know  thee  not,  and  those  only 
know  thee  who  despise  thee.  What  art  thou,  then,  oh  hu- 
man life  ?  Thou  art  the  way  of  mortals  and  not  their  life  ; 
thou  beginnest  in  sin  and  endest  in  death.  Thou  art  then 
the  way  of  life  and  not  life  itself.  Thou  art  only  a  road,  and 
an  unequal  road,  long  for  some,  short  for  others  ;  wide  for 
these,  narrow  for  those  ;  joyous  lor  some,  sad  for  others,  but 
for  all  equally  rapid  and  without  return.  It  is  necessarj'', 
then,  oh  miserable  human  life  !  to  fathom  thee,  to  question 
thee,  but  not  to  trust  in  thee.  We  must  traverse  thee  with- 
out dwelling  in  thee  —  no  one  dwells  upon  a  great  road  :  we 
but  march  on  through  it,  to  reach  the  country  beyond."  ^^ 
The  king  of  the  Lombards  was  that  Agilulf,  of  ^o-iiuir 
whom  we  have  already  had  occasion  to  speak  in  con-  idngot'the 
nection  with  St.  Gregory  the  Great ;  his  wife  was  amrriieo^' 
Theodelind,  the  noble  rival  of  Clotilde.  He  received  ^'^""^• 
the  venerable  exile  with  respect  and  confidence  ;  and  Colum- 
banus  had  scarcely  arrived  in  Milan  when  he  immediately 
began  to  write  against  the  Arians,  for  this  fatal  heresy  still 
predominated  among  the  Lombards ;  those  who  had  not  re- 
mained pagan,  especially  among  the  nobles,  had  fallen  victims 
to  Arianism.  The  Irish  apostle  thus  found  a  new  occupation 
for  his  missionary  zeal,  which  he  could  pursue  successfully 
without  giving  up  his  love  for  solitude.  Agilulf  be-  Foundation 
stowed  upon  him  a  territory  called  Bobbio,  situated  otBohbio. 
in  a  retired  gorge  of  the  Apennines,  between  Genoa  and 
Milan,  not  far  from  the  famous  shores  of  Trebbia,  where 
Hannibal  encamped  and  vanquished  the  Romans.  An  old 
church,  dedicated  to  St.  Peter,  was  in  existence  there.  Co- 
lumbanus  undertook  to  restore  it,  and  to  add  to  it  a  monas- 
tery. Despite  his  age,  he  shared  in  the  workmen's  labors, 
and  bent  his  old  shoulders  under  the  weight  of  enormous 
beams  of  fir-wood,  which  it  seemed  impossible  to  transport 
across  the  precipices  and  perpendicular  paths  of  these  moun- 
tains. This  abbey  of  Bobbio  was  his  last  stage.  He  made 
it  the  citadel  of  orthodoxy  against  the  Arians,  and  lighted 

*®  "  Nullus  enim  in  via  habitat,  sed  ambulat:  ut  qui  ambulant  in  via  habi-. 
tent  in  patria."  —  Instructio  v.,  Quod  prasens  vita  non  sit  dicenda  Vita,  sed 
Via.  I  borrow  this  translation,  completing  it,  from  the  Vie  des  Saints  dt 
Fratiche-  Cornte,  t.  ii.  p.  91. 


574  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

there  a  focus  of  knowledge  and  instruction  which  was  long 
the  light  of  northern  Italy .*^'^ 

His  last  There,  as  everywhere,  and  throughout  all  his  life, 

poetry.  Qur  saiut  continued  to  cultivate  those  literarj'-  studies 
which  had  charmed  his  youth.  At  sixt3'-eight  he  addressed  to 
a  friend  an  epistle  in  Adonic  verse,  whicli  everywhere  bears  the 
impression  of  those  classic  recollections  which  the  monks  of 
that  period  cultivated.  He  prays  him  not  to  despise  "  these 
little  verses  by  which  Sappho,  the  illustrious  muse,  loved  to 
charm  her  (jontemporaries,  and  to  prefer  for  a  moment  these 
frivolous  trifles  to  the  most  learned  productions.''*^^  Ho  ap- 
peals to  the  recollections  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  of  the  judg- 
ment oi  Paris,  of  Danae's  shower  of  gold,  and  of  the  collar  of 
Ampliiaraiis.  Then  his  thoughts  grew  sober  as  they  rose. 
"  Thus  I  wrote,  overwhelmed  by  the  cruel  pains  of  my  weak 
body,  and  by  age,  for,  while  the  times  hasten  their  course,  I 
have  reached  the  eignteenth  olympiad  of  my  life.  Every- 
thing passes,  and  the  irreparable  days  fly  aw^ay.  Live,  be 
strong,  be  happy,  and  remind  yourself  of  sad  old  age."^^ 
„.  To  this  last  period  of  his  life  also   belongs  that 

Btrance  letter,  SO  diiierently  interpreted,  winch  he  wrote 
Bouifawf'  to  Pope  Boniface  IV,  in  the  name  of  King  xigilulf, 
'^"  who  had  scarcely  escaped  from  the  bonds  of  Arian- 

ism,  when  he  unluckily  undertook  to  protect  the  partisans  of 
the  Three  Chapters,  who  called  in  question  the  orthodoxy  of 
the  Holy  See,  which,  according  to  their  view,  had  placed 
itself  in   opposition   to  a  General    Council.^^      Columbanus 

60  li  Turn  per  praerupta  saxorum  scopula  trabes  ox  abietibus  inter  densa 
saltus  locis  inaccessibiiibus  csederentur.  .  .  .  Suis  ac  sunrum  hnnieris  im- 
mane  poiulus  iinponebat."  —  Jonas,  c.  CO.  The  school  and  library  of  Bobl)io 
rank  among  the  most  celebrated  of  the  middle  ages.  Muratori  has  given  a 
catalogue  of  700  manuscripts  which  they  possessed  in  the  tenth  century. 
Thence  came  the  famous  palimpsest  from  which  Cardinal  Mat  has  taken  the 
De  Republica  of  Cicero.  The  monastery  was  only  suppressed  under  the 
French  dominion  in  1803 :  the  church  still  subsists,  and  serves  as  a  parish 
church. 

"'  "  Inclyta  vates  .  .  .  Doctiloquorum 

Nomine  Saplio  Carmina  linquens, 

Versibus  istis  Frivola  nostra 

Dulce  solebat  Suscipe  laetus." 

Edere  Carmen. 
'*  Translation  by  Ozanam. 

**  The  Three  Ghapters  (three  works  by  Theodore  of  Mopsueste,  Ibas,  and 
Theodoret,  were  thus  named)  had  been  condemned  as  Nestorian  by  the 
Council  of  Constantinople  (5th  oecumenical)  in  553,  and  by  Pope  Vigilant :  a 
condemnation  resisted  by  tlie  bishops  of  Africa  and  Istria  as  throwing  dis- 
credit on  the  Council  of  Chalcedon,  which  had,  according  to  them,  approved 
of  these  wiitings.     The  Lombards  declared  for  these  bishops,  who  were  toler- 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  575 

wrote  from  the  midst  of  a  mixed  population  of  ortliodox  and 
schismatics,  of  heuetics  and  even  of  pagans.  Evidently  little 
acipainted  in  his  own  person  with  the  point  at  issue,  he 
made  himself  the  organ  of  the  restlessness  and  defiance  of 
the  party  which  assumed  to  be  the  only  one  faithful  to  the 
doctrine  of  the  Council  of  Chalcedon  against  the  error  or 
Eutychus.  While  he  appeals,  in  a  series  of  extravagant  and 
obscure  apostrophes,  to  the  indulgence  of  the  Pope  for  a 
foolish  Scot,  charged  to  write  on  account  of  a  Lomlmrd,  a 
king  of  the  Gentiles,  he  acquaints  the  pontiff  with  the  impu- 
tations brought  against  him,  and  entreats  him  to  prove  his 
orthodoxy  and  excommunicate  his  detractors.^^  Doubtless 
some  of  the  expressions  which  he  employs  would  be  ntuv  re- 
garded as  disrespectful  and  justly  rejected.  But  in  these 
young  and  vigorous  times,  f  lith  and  austerity  could  be  more 
indulgent.  If  his  letter  is  impressed  with  all  the  frankness 
and  independence  of  the  Celt,  of  the  Briton,  a  little  too  bit- 
ing,^^  as  he  says  himself,  it  breathes  also  the  tender  and  filial 
devotion  of  a  Roman,  impassioned  in  his  anxiety  for  the  honor 
of  the  Holy  See.  Let  it  be  judged  by  this  fragment:  "1 
confess  that  I  lament  over  the  bad  reputation  of  the  chair  of 
St.  Peter  in  this  country.  I  speak  to  you  not  as  a  stranger, 
but  as  a  disciple,  as  a  friend,  as  a  servant.  1  speak  freely  to 
our  masters,  to  the  pilots  of  the  vessel  of  the  Church,  and  I 
say  to  them.  Watch  !  and  despise  not  the  humble  advice  of 
the  stranger.  Wo  Irish,  who  inhabit  the  extremities  of  the 
world,  are  the  disciples  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  and  of  the 
other  apostles  who  have  written  under  dictation  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  We  receive  nothing  more  than  the  apostolic  and 
evangelical  doctrine.  There  has  never  been  either  a  heretic, 
a  Jew,  or  a  schismatic  among  us.  The  people  whom  I  see 
here,  who  bear  the  burden  of  many  heretics,  are  jealous  ;  they 
disturb  themselves  like  a  frightened  flock.  Pardon  me  then, 
if,  swimming  among  these  rocks,  I  have  said  some  how  he 
words  offensive  to  pious  ears.  The  native  liberty  [^^""^''/^Pf 
of  my  race  has  given  me  that  boldness.  With  us  it  patriotism 
is  not  the  person,  it  is  the  right  which  prevails,  manortho- 
The  love  of  evangelical  peace  makes  me  say  every-  ^°^^- 

ated  by  Gregory  the  Great  on  account  of  their  zeal  against  the  Arians;  but 
under  Boniface  IV.  the  quarrel  was  revived.  Agilulf  and  Theodelind  en- 
gaged Colurabanus  in  it. 

®*  "  Quando  rex  gentilis  peregrinum  scribere,  Longobardus,  Scotum  hebe- 
tem  rogat  .  .  .  quis  non  mirabitur  potiusquam  calumniabitur."  —  Epist.  v. 
ad,  Bonif.  Pap.  ed.  Galland.,  p.  355. 

•°  "Mordacius." 


& 


576  ST.    COLUMBAKUS. 

thing.  We  are  bound  to  the  chair  of  St.  Peter  ;  fot 
however  great  and  glorious  Rome  may  be,  it  is  this  chair 
which  makes  her  great  and  glorious  among  us.  Although  the 
name  of  the  ancient  city,  the  glory  of  Ausonia,  had  been 
spread  throughout  the  world  as  something  supremely  august, 
by  the  too  great  admiration-  of  the  nations,  for  us  you  are 
only  august  and  great  since  the  incarnation  of  God,  since 
the  Spirit  of  God  has  breathed  upon  us,  and  since  the  Son  of 
God,  in  his  car  drawn  by  these  two  ardent  coursers  of  God, 
Peter  and  Paul,  has  crossed  the  oceans  of  nations  to  come  to 
us.  Still  more,  because  of  the  two  great  apostles  of  Christ, 
you  are  almost  celestial,  and  Rome  is  the  head  of  the  Churches 
of  the  whole  world,  excepting  only  the  prerogative  of  the 
place  of  divine  resurrection."  ^ 

The  generous  fervor  of  that  Irish  race,  justly  proud  of 
having  never  knowm  the  yoke  of  pagan  Rome,  and  of  having 
waited,  before  recognizing  her  supremacy,  till  she  had  be- 
come the  Rome  of  the  apostles  and  martyrs,  has  never  been 
expressed  with  more  poetic  energy. 

But  whilst  the  unwearied  missionary  had  thus  recommenced 
in  Italy  his  career  as  a  preacher  and  monastic  founder,  every- 
thing  was  changed  among  the  Franks  to  whom  he  had  de- 
voted the  half  of  his  life.  At  the  moment  when  the  victorious 
persecutor  of  Columbanus  seemed  at  the  climax  of  his  fortune, 
when  he  had  joined  the  immense  domains  of  the  Austrasian 
kingdom  to  his  own  kingdom  of  Orleans  and  Burgundy,  and 
when  he  had  only  the  little  state  of  Clotaire  left  to  conquer, 
in  ordei  to  reign  over  all  Gaul  and  Prankish  Germany,  King 
Death  of  Thierry  suddenly  died  at  the  age  of  twenty-six.  In 
cito^r?^^'  vain  did  Brunehault  essay  to  renew  her  reign  in  the 
Thierry.  name  of  her  great-grandson,  the  young  Sigebert, 
the  eldest  of  Thierry's  children:  the  leudes  of  Austrasia,  who 

*"  "Doleo  enim.  fateor,  de  infamia  cathedrae  S.  Petri.  .  .  .  Ego  enim  ut 
amicus,  ut  discipulus,  ut  pedissequus  vester,  non  ut  alienus  loquar :  ideo 
libere  eloquar  nostris  utpote  magistris,  ac  spiritualis  navis  gubernatoribus,  ac 
mysticis  proretis  dicens :  Vigilate.  .  .  .  Noli  despicere  consiliolum  alieni- 
genae.  .  .  .  Nullus  hsereticus,  niillus  judaeus,  nullus  schismaticus  fuit.  .  .  . 
Populus  quem  video,  duni  multos  lisereticos  sustinet,  zelosus  est,  et  cito  tan- 
quam  gre.x  pavidus  turbatur.  .  .  .  Libertas  paternae  consuetudinis,  ut  ita 
dicani,  me  audere  ex  parte  facit.  N(m  enim  apud  nos  persona,  sed  ratio 
valet:  amor  paeis  evangelicse  toluni  ii;e  diccre  cogit.  ...  In  duobus  illis 
ferventissimis  Dei  spiritus  cquis,  Pctro  et  Paulo  .  .  .  per  mare  gentium 
equitans,  turbavit  aquas  multas  .  .  .  et  supremus  ille  auriga  currus  illius 
qui  est  Christus  ...  ad  nos  usque  pcrvcnit.  Ex  tunc  vos  magni  estis  et 
clari  .  .  .  et,  si  dici  potest,  propter  jrominos  aj)ostolos  .  .  .  vos  prope  coeles- 
tes  estis  et  Roma  orbis  tcrraruiu  caput  est  Ecclcsiarum  ..." 


ST.    COLUMBx\NUS.  577 

could  never  tolerate  her  haughty  rule,  and  Hrst  araoiig  them 
the  powerful  chief  Pepin,  from  whom  the  Carluvingiar.  rai.-e 
proceeded,  declared  themselves  against  her.  Tliey  leagued 
themselves  on  one  side  with  the  leudes  of  Burgundy,  on  the 
other  with  Clotaire  and  his  Neustrians,  and  cailsd  the  latter 
to  reign  over  them.  Brunehaultand  the  four  sons  of  Thierry 
were  delivered  up  to  him.  He  slaughtered  the  two  eldest, 
and  showed  himself  the  worthy  son  of  Fredegund  by  the 
atrocious  sufferings  which  he  inflicted  upon  her  ciotaire  ii. 
septuagenarian  rival.  Clotaire  II. ,  when  he  had  [q'^aIis-^'™ 
become  by  all  these  crimes  the  sole  king  of  the  tr<isia. 
Franks  and  master  of  Austrasia  and  Burgundy  as  well  as 
Neustria,  remembered  the  prediction  of  Columbaaus,  and 
desired  to  see  once  more  the  saint  who  had  prophesied  so 
truly.  He  charged  Eustace,  who  had  succeeded  him  as 
abbot  at  Luxeuil,  to  go  and  seek  his  spiritual  father,  and 
sent  with  him  a  deputation  of  nobles,  as  a  security  for  the 
good  intentions  of  the  king.  Columbanus  received  Eus- 
tace gladly,  and  kept  his  visitor  with  him  for  some  tim'e 
that  he  might  make  him  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  spir- 
it of  the  rule,  wiiich  hewas  to  establish  among  the  '^  monas- 
tic nation"  at  Luxeuil.  Buthe  declined  to  answer 
the  call  of  Clotaire:  we  would  fain  believe  that  all  '    ' 

the  innocent  blood  which  that  king  had  spilt  had  something 
to  do  with  this  refusal ;  but  there  is  nothing  to  prove  it.  The 
abbot  confined  himself  to  writing  him  a  letter  full  of  good 
advice,  which,  it  must  be  allowed,  he  had  great  need  of,  and 
recommending  to  him  his  beloved  abbey  of  Luxeuil,  which 
Clotaire  indeed  overwhelmed  with  gifts  and  favors.'^'' 

As  for  Columbanus,  he  ended  as  he  had  begun,  by  seeking 
a  solitude   still   more   complete   than  that   of  the   monastery 
which  he  had  founded  at  Bobbio.     He  had  found  upon  the 
opposite  shore  of  Trebbia,  in  the  side  of  a  great  rock,  a  cav- 
ern,  which  he  transformed  into  a  chapel,  dedicated  to  the 
holy  Virgin :  there   he   passed  his   last  days   in  fasting  and 
prayer,  returning  to  the  monastery  only  for  the  Sun-  ^n^^jieg 
days  and  holidays.     After  his  death  this  chapel  was        -7- 
long  venerated   and  much  frequented   by  afflicted   vember, 
souls;   and  three  centuries  later,  the  annals  of  the   ^^^' 
monastery  record,  that  those  who  had  entered  there  sad  and 

®^  '*  Litteras  castigationum  affamine  plenas  Eegi  dirigit  gratissinium  munus. 
.  .  .  Rex  velut  pignus  fa;deris  viri  Dei  litteras  ovans  recepit."  —  JonaS; 
c.  61. 

VOL.  I.  49 


578  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

downcast  had  left  it  rejoicing,  consoled  by  the  sweet  protec- 
tion of  Mary  and  of  Columbanus.^^ 

Such  was  the  liie  of  the  illustrious  founder  of  Luxeuil ;  lesa 
forgotten,  we  are  bound  to  say,  than  others  as  worthy  of  rec- 
ollection as  himself,  his  memory  has  been  brought  to  light 
anew  in  our  own  days,  only  to  be  made  use  of  in  a  spirit  hos- 
tile to  the  truth  and  authority  of  the  Holy  ^eeP 

What,  then,  is  there  in  this  life  which  can  justify 
neVherthe  the  assumption  which  has  attempted  to  raise  the 
royaify^no^  founder  of  Luxeuil  into  the  chief  of  a  political 
of  the  Pa-  party,  an  enemy  to  royalty  in  his  time,  and,  more 
^'**^^'  than  that,  a  schismatic^  a  contemner,  or  at  least  a 

rival,  of  the  Papacy  ?  Columbanus  had  neither  the  virtues 
nor  the  vices  which  make  political  men  ;  he  contended,  not 
against  royalty,  but  against  a  single  king,  and  he  waged  this 
warfare  solely  in  defence  of  the  purity  and  dignity  of  Chris- 
tian marriage.  It  is  impossible  to  discover  in  his  biography, 
so  full  of  minute  details,  the  least  trace  of  a  political  ten- 
dency. Far  from  being  an  enemy  to  royalty,  he  was,  with- 
out controversy,  of  all  the  great  monks  of  his  time,  the  one 
who  had  the  most  frequent  and  cordial  intercourse  with  con- 
temporary kings :  with  Clotaire,  king  of  the  Neustrians ; 
Theodebert,  king  of  the  Austrasians  ;  Agilulf,  king  of  the 
Lombards.  But  he  knew  that  virtue  and  truth  are  made  for 
kings  as  well  as  for  nations.  History  should  admire  in  him 
monastic  integrity  struggling  with  tlie  retrograde  paganism 
of  Merovingian  polygamy,  and  the  foreign  missionary  and 
solitary  taking  up  at  once,  in  face  of  the  conquerors  of  Oaul, 
the  freedom  of  the  prophets  of  the  ancient  law  against  the 
crowned  profligate  :  "  1  will  speak  of  thy  testimonies  also 
before  kings,  and  will  not  be  ashamed."  This  was  the  case, 
and  nothing  else  ;  this  is  sufficient  for  his  glory. 

®*  "  Inter  cseteras  virtutes  .  .  .  liEec  prsecipue  viguit,  sicut  ab  antecessori- 
bus  nostris  audiviraus,  quod  si  aliquis  tristis  illic  adveniebat,  si  ibi  aliqua'ii 
raorulaui  baberet,  interveiitu  Sanctae  Virginis  supradictique  viri  Isetus  exinde 
revertebatuv."  —  Mirac.  S.  Colunib.  a  Monach.  Bohiens.  Scec.  x.,ap.  Act.  SS. 
O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.,  pp.  37,  38.  Anotber  tradition  attributes  to  bim  tbe  discovery 
of  a  rare  and  delicate  vegetable  in  tbe  beart  of  tbe  rocks  wbich  be  incessantly 
travelled  over,  wliicb  does  not  reproduce  itself  every  year,  and  wliicb  the 
abbot  of  Bobbio  sent  to  tbe  liings  and  princes,  pro  benedidione  S.  Columhani. 
"  Nam  legumen  Pis,  quod  rustici  Ilerbiliam  vocant,  ex  adventu  sui  tempore 
per  singulos  annos  sponte  nascitur  per  illas  rupes  quas  ipsi  peranibulavit, 
nullo  serente  et,  quod  nobis  majus  miracuhim  videtur,  per  scissuras  petra- 
rum  uhi  nullus  humor  adest."  —  Mirac.  S.  Coliimb.,  c.  5. 

*"  M.  Gorini,  in  his  Defense  de  V Eglise,  t.  i.,  ch.  x.,  has  demolished  the 
strange  fancies  of  MM.  Alexis  de  Saint- Priest,  Michelet,  &c.,  on  the  subject 
of  the  political  and  religious  character  of  St.  Colun'banus. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  579 

In  respect  to  the  Holy  See,  if  some  traces  of  the  harsh  in- 
dependence of  his  race  and  the  frank  boldness  of  his  character 
are  to  be  found  in  his  language  —  if  he  must  be  blamed  for 
defending  and  imposing  on  others,  with  wearisome  obstinacy, 
the  local  and  special  observances  of  his  own  country  —  if  he 
made  himself  ridiculous  b}'  offering  advice  to  Pope  Boniface 
IV.  on  a  theological  question,  which  ho  himself  confesses  he 
had  not  studied  —  it  must  be  added  that,  even  in  his  rao.'^t 
vehement  words,  nothing  implied  the  sliglitest  doubt  of  the 
Bupreme  authority  of  the  Roman  See.  He  says  expressly 
that  the  pillar  of  the  Church  stands  always  firm  at  Rome  ;  he 
expressl}'  entitles  the  Pope  the  pastor  of  pastors,  and  the 
prince  of  the  chiefs,  whose  duty  it  is  to  protect  the  army  of 
the  Lord  in  its  perils,  to  organize  everything,  to  regulate  the 
order  of  war,  to  stimulate  the  captains,  and,  finally,  to  en- 
gage in  the  combat,  marching  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
soldiers  of  God.'*^ 

This  pretended  Luther  of  the  seventh  century  has  then  no 
right  to  any  of  those  sympathies  which  have  been  recently 
bestowed  on  him.  They  have  been  addressed  to  the  wrong 
individual.  He  was  never  the  enemy  of  either  kings  or  bish- 
ops. He  was  a  formidable  rival  only  to  St.  Benedict.  Nei- 
ther in  his  writings  nor  his  life  is  there  anything  to  indicate 
that  this  rivalry  was  intentional ;  it  sprang  naturally  from  his 
independent  mind,  strongly  individual  and  even  eccentric, 
from  the  passionate  attachment  with  which  he  inspired  so 
large  a  number  of  disciples,  from  the  missionary  impulse 
which  he  evidently  possessed,  but  above  all,  from 
the  Rule  which  he  believed  it  his  duty  to  write  for 
the  use  of  the  monastic  nation  which  he  has  collected  under 
his  crosier.'i  He  never  mentions  the  Rule  of  St.  Benedict, 
though  it  was  impossible  that  he  could  be  ignorant  of  its 
existence,  especially  after  he  had  gone  to  Lombardy.'-     But 

'**  Epist.  v.,  ad.  Bonifacium.     "  Pulchurrimo  omnium  totius  Europae  Ec- 
clesiarum  capiti.  .   .   .  rastorum  pastori." 

^'  "  His  ergo  in  locis    Moniuthorum   plebibus   constitutis,  .  .  .    Regulam 
quara  tenerent  Spiritu  Sancto  repletus  condidit." 

'"  Mabillon  has  fully  acknowledged,  in  opposition  to  Yepes  and  Trithemi- 
us,  that  the  Kule  of  Coliimbanus  was  not  a  simple  modification  of  the  Rule 
of  Benedict;  but  it  is  impossible  to  admit  tlie  proof  by  wliicli  lie  assumes  to 
establish  that  Columbanus,  attracted  to  Italy  by  the  fame  of  Benedict  himself, 
had  adopted  the  Rule  of  his  predeces>or  and  liad  introduced  it  at  Bobbio. 
Contrary  to  all  his  habits,  the  prince  of  erudite  Christians  does  not  quote,  in 
this  instance,  any  contemporary  text,  or  any  fact,  and  limits  himself  to  sup- 
positions which  neither  agree  with  the  life  nor  with  tlie  cliaracter  of  Colum 
banus.  —  Compare  Prafat.  in  Sac.  ii.,  No.  14,  and  in  Sac.  iv.,  n.  129-135. 


580  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

he  desired  to  introduce  into  Gaul  a  durable  monument  of  the 
religious  spirit  of  his  country,  of  that  powerful  impulse  which 
had  fertilized  monastic  Ireland,  and  formed  those  immense 
collections  of  monks  where,  if  he  is  to  be  believed,  such  a 
discipline  reigned,  that  as  many  as  a  thousand  abbots  recog- 
nized the  laws  of  a  single  superior,  and  such  a  union  that,  in 
certain  houses,  since  their  first  foundation,  there  had  never 
been  a  single  dispute. '^ 

This  Rule,  at  once  shorter,  less  distinct,  and  more  severe 
than  that  of  St.  Benedict,  agrees  with  it,  notwithstanfling,  in 
its  essential  particulars,  as  the  Benedictine  Rule  approaches, 
in  many  points,  to  the  rules  of  the  great  solitaries  of  the 
East.  It  is  not  given  to  man,  not  even  to  the  man  of  genius, 
to  isolate  himself  from  the  efforts  and  experience  of  his  pre- 
decessors^ and  no  truly  practical  genius  has  attempted  or 
even  desired  it.  The  first  of  the  ten  chapters  which  form 
the  Rule  of  Columbanus  treats  of  obedience  ;  it  was  to  be 
absolute  and  passive ;  there  is  no  reservation,  as  in  that  of 
Benedict,  of  a  judicious  exercise  of  power  on  the  part  of  the 
abbot,  nor  of  the  advisers  by  whom  he  was  to  be  surrounded. 
The  second  imposes  perpetual  silence  upon  the  monks, except 
for  useful  or  necessary  causes.  The  third  reduces  their  food 
to  the  lowest  rate  possible  :  Benedict  had  granted  meat  to 
the  weak  and  ailing,  and  a  hemine  of  wine  ;  Columbanus 
allowed  onl}^  pulse,  meal  moistened  with  water,  and  a  small 
loaf  to  all  alike.'^^  'I'hey  were  to  eat  only  in  the  evening;  fast- 
ing was  to  be  a  daily  exercise,  like  work,  prayer,  or  reading. 
Except  Chapter  Yi\.,  which  establishes  a  very  complicated 
and  tediously  prolonged  order  of  services  for  the  psalmody 
of  the  choir  (seventy-five  psalms  and  twenty-five  anthems 
for  the  great  feasts,  thirty-six  -psalms  and  twelve  anthems 
for  the  lesser),  the  other  chapters  treat  of  poverty,  humility, 
chastity,  discretion  or  prudence,  and  mortification,  all  vir- 
tues essential  to  the  monastic  condition,  but  which  tho 
author  deals  with  rather  as  a  preacher  than  a  legislator. 
The  tenth,  and  last,  which    is   as  long  as  all  the   others   put 

^^  "  Et  cum  taiUa  plunilitas  corum  sit,  ita  ut  mille  abbates  sub  uno  archi- 
niandrita  esse  referantur,  nulla  il)i  a  eondiiioue  cijeiiobii  inter  duos  nionaehos 
rixa  fuisse  fertur  visa."  —  Rcgula  S.  Columbani,  c.  7.  The  words  apud 
seniores  nostras,  wliicl;  are  found  at  tlie  beginning  of  this  chapter,  should  be 
interpreted,  not  as  referring  to  all  Ireland,  but  to  the  monastery  of  Bangor, 
where  Columbanus  was  a  monk;  but  imw  is  the  thousand  abbots  in  a  single 
house  to  be  explained,  or  how  can  tlie  teiiu  ubLatcs  be  regarded  as  synony- 
mous with  monks  when  the  word  monatlii  occurs  in  the  same  passage? 

'•*  "  Cibus  vilis  et  vcsperlinus  .  .  .  cum  parvo  panis  paximatio."  Fish, 
iiowever,  could  not  have  iieiii  prohibiii'd,  since  St.  Gall  and  his  master  were 
perpetually  occupied  m  fishing. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  581 

together,  forms,  under  tlie  title  of"  Penitentiary,  a  sort  of 
criminal  code,  in  which  a  new  contrast  may  be  re-  Ti,e  p^^. 
marked  with  the  Benedictine  code,  in  the  extreme  tmum-y. 
severity  of  the  penalties  prescribed  for  the  least  irregulari- 
ties. The  rigid  discipline  used  in  the  monasteries  of  Scot- 
land and  Ireland  is  here  manifest  by  the  prodigal  use  of 
beating,  which  is  reserved  in  the  Benedictine  code  for  incor- 
rigible criminals,  and  prescribed  in  the  Penitentiary^  for  tho 
most  insignificant  omissions.  The  number  of  strokes  inflicted 
on  delinquents  varied  from  six  to  two  hundred.  This  pen- 
alty, however,  must  have  appeared  much  less  hard  and  less 
humiliating  at  that  period,  even  to  tlio  sons  of  the  great,  of 
whom  so  large  a  number  were  reckoned  among  the  disci[)les 
of  Columbanus,  than  it  would  seem  to  the  most  obscure 
Christian  of  our  own  time,  since  iUemaximum  of  two  hundred 
blows  was  regarded  as  the  equivalent  of  two  days'  fasting  on 
bread  and  water,  and  the  choice  of  these  penalties  was  allot- 
ted to  the  monk  who  should  have  spoken,  without  the  pres- 
ence of  a  third  person,  to  a  woman.  He  who,  on  a  journey, 
should  have  slept  under  the  same  roof  with  a  woman,  had  to 
fast  three  days  on  bread  and  water.'^ 

These  excessive  severities  discoura<z:ed  no  one.  ^j-'cipies 
Loiambanus  saw  an  army  of  disciples  collect  around  banus. 
him,  in  the  sanctuaries  which  he  had  founded,  up  to  the  last 
day  of  his  life.  They  were  more  numerous  and  more  illus- 
trious than  those  of  Benedict.  Inspired  by  the  spirit  of  this 
great  saint,  pervaded  by  the  vigorous  life  which  flowed  from 
him,  like  him  self  willed,  dauntless,  and  unwearied,  they  gave 
to  the  monastic  spirit  the  most  powerful,  rapid  and  active 
impulse  which  it  had  yet  received  in  the  West.  They  ex- 
tended it  especially  over  those  regions  where  that  Franco- 
Germanic  race,  which  hid  in  its  skirts  the  future  life  of  Chris- 
tian civilization,  was  laboriously  forming  itself  By  their 
means  the  genius  and  memory  of  Columbanus  hover  over  tlie 
whole  of  the  seventh  century,  of  all  the  centuries  the  most 
fertile  and  illustrious  in  the  number  and  fervor  of  the  mo- 
nastic establishments  which  it  produced.  However,  we  shaii 
see  before  the  century  was  completed,  the  rule  and  institn- 

'*  "  Si  quis  monachus  dormierit  in  una  doino  cum  mulioi'2,  tres  dies  \a 
pane  et  aqua ;  si  nescivit  quod  non  debet,  uno  die."  —  M.  Gorini,  op.  cit., 
torn.  i.  p.  420,  and  others,  liave  sufficiently  exposed  the  absurd  error  com- 
mitted by  M.  Michelet,  in  his  Histoire  de  France  (torn.  i.  p.  286),  where  he 
translates  these  words  as  follows  :  "  For  the  monk  who  has  transgressed  with 
a  woman,  two  days  of  bread  and  water." 

49* 


682  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

tioij  of  the  great  Irishman  everywhere  replaced  by  the  spirit 
and  laws  of  his  immortal  predecessor,  Columbaniis  had  more 
of  that  fascination  which  attracts  for  a  day,  or  for  a  genera- 
tion, than  of  that  depth  of  genius  which  creates  for  ages. 

Let  us  endeavor,  then,  if  we  can,  to  trace  a  brief  picture 
of  this  monastic  mission  of  the  sons  of  Columbanns,  at  once 
80  laborious  and  so  productive,  the  fruits  of  which,  if  they 
must  not  be  exclusively  attributed  to  the  glory  or  authority 
of  the  Celtic  missionary,  did  not  the  less  enrich  for  a  thou- 
sand years  and  more  the  treasures  of  the  Church. 
His  sue  One  word,  in  the  first  place,  upon  the  Lombard 

cesporsat     abbey  where    Columbanus    completed   his    career. 
°  J22l        His    successor  was  Attains,  a  noble    Burgundian. 
Attaius.       Yle  had  first  been  a  monk  at  Lerins,  but,  cast  back 

615 C62.  by  the  decay  of  that  renowned  sanctuary,  had  been 
drawn  to  Luxeuil  by  the  ihme  of  Columbanus,  and  was  named 
by  the  latter  as  his  successor  after  his  expulsion  from  Bur- 
gundy .'^^  But  he  preferred  to  join  him  in  exile.  Alter  the 
death  of  the  founder,  the  new  abbot  was  troubled  by  an  in- 
surrection of  the  Italian  monks,  who  declared  themselves 
incapable  of  bearing  so  many  austerities  and  so  hard  a  dis- 
cipline. He  permitted  them  to  go  ;  they  went  to  seek  another 
resting-place,  some  among  the  neighboring  mountains,  some 
on  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean ;  several  returned  after- 
wards to  the  fold  where  Attaius  continued  the  work  of  his 
master,  struggling  bravel}^  against  Arianism,  which  had 
found  its  last  citadel  among  the  conquering  Lombards  of 
northern  Italy.  He  died  at  the  foot  of  a  crucifix  which  he 
had  placed  at  the  door  of  his  cell  that  he  might  kiss  the  feet 
every  time  he  went  out  or  in,  and  was  buried  by  the  side  of 
Columbanus. 

Another   stranger    governed    the    monastery   after    him, 

Bertui  h      Bcrtulpli,  a  uoblo  Austrasian,  and  near  relative  of 

— -  '     the   famous  Arnoul,   bishop   of  Metz,  the    earliest 

6^7-640.  i^nown  ancestor  of  that  Carlovingian  race  which 
was  soon  to  unite  Gaul  and  Ital}'  under  its  laws.  Bertulph 
was  born  a  pagan  ;  the  example  of  his  cousin  had  converted 
him  and  led  him  to  Luxeuil,  from  whence  he  followed  Atta- 
ins to  Pobbio.  -  He  was  scarcely  elected  when  he  had  to 
struggle  with  the  bishop  of  Tortona,  who  wished  to  bring 
the  abbey  under  his  jurisdiction,  and  attempted  to  arm  him' 
self -with  the  authority  of  Ariowald,  king  of  the  Lombards. 

'"*  Epist.  ad  Fratres,  ubi  supra. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  583 

This  Ariowald,  son-in-law  and  successor  of  Agi- 
lulf,  did  not  promise  to  be  a  very  zealous  protector  duL  "rla 
of  the  Irish  abbe3\  Before  he  became  king  he  had  JI^JoA'ho- 
met  one  day  in  the  streets  of  Pavia  one  of  the  monks  f^o^  mov^ 
of  Bobbio,  charged  by  the  abbot  Attains  with  a  mis- 
sion for  the  capital  of  the  Lombards,  Seeing  him  from  a  dis* 
tance,  he  said,  "  There  is  one  of  Columbanus's  monks,  who 
refuse  to  salute  us."  After  which  he  himself  saluted  the 
monk  derisively.  The  latter,  whose  name  was  Blidulf,  an- 
swered that  he  would  have  saluted  him  willingly  had  he  been 
irreproachable  in  matters  of  faith,  and  took  advantage  of  tlie 
occasion  to  preach  him  a  sermon  upon  the  equality  of  the 
three  persons  of  the  Trinity.  Ariowald,  furious  at  this, 
posted  two  of  his  satellites  to  await  the  monk's  return,  and 
beat  him  to  death.  Blidulf,  who  had  supped  with  an  ortho- 
dox citizen  of  Pavia,  was  attacked  in  a  remote  place  by  these 
assassins,  who  beat  him  unmercifully,  and  left  him  on  the 
ground  for  dead.  At  the  end  of  some  hours  he  was  found  by 
his  host  lying  in  his  blood,  but  he  raised  himself  up,  despite 
his  cruel  wounds,  saying  that  he  had  never  slept  a  sweeter 
sleep.''^  This  wonder  roused  popular  opinion  in  favor  of  the 
monks  of  Bobbio,  and  their  orthodox  doctrine.  Ariowald, 
confused  and  penitent,  sent  to  the  abbey  to  ask  pardon,  and 
offered  gifts,  which  were  refused.  But  we  must  believe  that 
this  adventure  had  a  salutary  impression  on  his  soul ;  for  af- 
ter his  accession  to  the  throne,  though  still  an  Arian,  he  not 
only  abstained  from  persecuting  the  orthodox  monastery,  but 
even  from  condemning  it  in  its  struggles  with  the  bishop. 
"  It  is  not  my  part,"  he  said, ''  to  know  these  priestly  conten- 
tions:  let  them  be  judged  by  their  synods."'^ 

Bertulph,  however,  went  to  Rome  to  appeal  to  Pope  Hono- 
rius,  made  him  acquainted  with  the  rule,  and  the  customs 
followed  in  the  new  foundation,  obtained  his  sovereign  appro- 
bation, and  returned  furnished  with  a  privilege  which  ex- 
empted from  episcopal  jurisdiction  the  monastery  in  which 
Columbanus  had  completed  his  course.^^ 

"  "Ex  Columbani  monachis  iste  est,  qui  nobis  salutantibus  denegant  apta 
respondere.  Cumque  jam  baud  procul  abesset,  deridens  salutem  praemisit. 
.  .  .  Percussus  cerebro  et  omni  compage  corporis  collisus,  niagnis  fustiuni 
ictibus  ac  sudibus  pulsatus.  ,  .  .  Nihil  ei  respondit  unquam  suavius  acces- 
sisse  nee  somnum  dulciorem  habuisse  testatur."  —  Jonas,  Vita  S-  Bertulfi, 
c.  14,  ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii. 

'*  *'  Non  meum  est  sacerdotum  causas  diseernere  quas  synodalis  examinatio 
ad  purum  decet  adduoere."  —  Jonas,   Vita  S.  Bertulfi,  c.  6. 

"  Jonas  of  Susa,  a  monk  at  Bobbio,  as  we  have  already  said,  has  writteOf 


584  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

Disciples  Whilst  the  Franks  of  Burgundy  and  Austrasia, 

bai^rs'?!^  called  to  follow  the  great  Irish  monk  into  Lombardj, 
Helvetia,  formed  in  a  gorge  of  the  Apennines  a  centre  of  ener- 
getic reaction  against  Arian  heresy,  against  the  effeminacy 
of  the  Italian  monks,  and  the  efforts  of  that  paganism  which 
still  existed  among  the  peasants,^*'  the  Irish  monks,  who  had 
been  expelled  from  Luxeuil  with  their  illustrious  compatriot, 
but  who  had  followed  him  only  to  the  foot  of  the  Alps, 
sowed  the  seed  amid  the  semi-pagan  populations  of  Eastern 

Helvetia  and  of  Rheetia.  One  of  them,  Sigisbert, 
founds^'^Dis-  Separated  from  his  master  at  the  foot  &f  the  hill 
the'souixe'^  which  has  since  been  called  St.  Gothard,  and  cross- 
of  the  ing  the  glaciers  and  peaks  of  Crispalt,  directing  his 

steps  to  the  East,  arrived  at  the  source  of  the  Rhine, 
and  from  thence  descended  into  a  vast  solitude,  where  he 
built  a  ceil  of  branches  near  a  fountain.  The  few  inhabitants 
of  these  wild  regions,  who  were  still  idolaters,  surrounded 
him,  admired  him,  and  listened  to  him  ;  bat  when  he  at- 
tempted to  cut  down  the  sacred  oak,  the  object  of  their  tra- 
ditional worship,  one  of  the  pagans  aimed  an  axe  at  his  head. 
The  sign  of  the  cross  disarmed  this  assailant :  the  work  of 
conversion  proceeded  painfully,  but  with  the  support  of  a 
neighboring  noble,  who  became  a  Christian  and  then  a  monk 
under  the  teachings  of  the  Irish  missionary,  and  who  endowed 
with  all  his  possessions  the  new-born  monastery,  which  still 
exists  under  the  name  of  Dissentis.^^  Thus  was  won  and 
sanctified,  from  its  very  source,  that  Rhine  whose  waters 
were  to  bathe  so  many  illustrious  monastic  sanctuaries. 

Not  far  from  the  spot  where  the  Rhine  falls  intc 

Lake  Constance,  and  a  little  to  the  south  of  the  lake. 
Gall,  cured  of  his  fever,  but  deeply  saddened  by  the  depar- 
ture of  his  master,  chose  a  retreat  which  his  name  was  to 
make  immortal.  A  deacon,  much  given  to  hunting  and  fish- 
ing, pointed  out  to  him  a  wild  solitude  enclosed  within  wooded 

besides  the  biography  of  St.  Columbanus,  those  of  his  two  successors,  and 
lias  dedicated  thein  to  Bobolene,  fourth  abbot  of  Bobbio,  and  of  Franliish 
origin,  J'.ke  his  predecessors.  The  names  of  the  nionlis  whom  Jonas  cites  in 
his  narrative  seem  to  indicate  the  same  Frankish  origin  :  Merovee,  Blidulph, 
Theodald,  Baudacliaire. 

*"  See  tlie  adventure  of  Merovee  the  monk,  who,  going  from  Bobbio  to 
Tortona,  attempted  to  destroy  a  rustic  temple  {fanuw.  quoddam  ex  arboribus 
consitum)  which  he  found  on  the  shores  of  tlie  Serivia,  and  was  beaten  and 
<hrown  into  tlie  water  by  t\ie  fani  cuUores.  — Jonas,  lib.  c.  16. 

®'  BocELiNUS,  Martyrol.  Bened.  IT.  Jul.  :  Mabillon,  Ann.  Bcned.,  lib.  xi. 
c.  20.  The  abbey  of  Dissentis,  burned  by  the  French  in  1799,  has  since  been 
rebuilt. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  585 

heights,  with  abundant  streams,  but  inhabited  by  bears, 
boars,  and  wolves.  "If  the  Lord  is  with  us,  who  can  be 
against  us  ?  "  said  Gall ;  and  he  set  out  with  some  provisions 
in  his  wallet,  and  a  small  net  for  fishing.  Towards  evening 
they  arrived  at  the  spot  where  the  torrent  of  Steinach  hol- 
lows a  bed  for  itself  in  the  rocks.  As  he  walked  on,  praying, 
his  foot  caught  in  the  brushwood  and  he  fell.  The  deacon 
ran  to  raise  him  up.  "  No,"  said  Gall :  "  here  is  my  chosen 
habitation  ;  here  is  m}'-  resting-place  forever."  There  he  ar- 
ranged two  hazel-boughs  into  the  form  of  a  cross,  attached  to 
it  the  relics  which  he  carried  round  his  neck,  and  passed  the 
night  in  prayer.  Before  his  devotions  were  concluded,  a 
bear  descended  from  the  mountain  to  collect  the  remains  of 
the  traveller's  meal.  Gall  threw  him  a  loaf,  and  said  to  him, 
"  In  the  name  of  Christ,  withdraw  from  this  valley  ;  the  neigh- 
boring mountains  shall  be  common  to  us  and  thee,  but  on 
condition  that  thou  shalt  do  no  more  harm  either  to  Demons 
man  or  beast."  The  next  day  the  deacon  went  to  ^s^^- 
fish  in  the  torrent,  and,  as  he  threw  his  net,  two  demons  ap- 
peared to  him  under  the  form  of  two  naked  women  about  to 
bathe,  who  threw  stones  at  him,  and  accused  him  of  having 
led  into  the  desert  the  cruel  man  who  had  always  overcome 
them.  Gall,  when  he  came,  exorcised  these  phantoms  ;  they 
fled,  ascending  the  course  of  the  torrent,  and  could  be  heard 
on  the  mountain,  weeping  and  crying  as  with  the  voices  of 
women.  "  Where  shall  we  go  ?  this  stranger  hunts  us  from 
the  midst  of  men,  and  even  from  the  depths  of  the  desert ;  " 
while  other  voices  asked,  "  whether  the  Christian  was  still 
there,  and  if  he  would  not  soon  depart."  ^^ 

These  poetic  traditions,  transmitted  from  lip  to  lip  among 
the  first  Christians  of  Helvetia,  gave  a  natural  picture  of  the 
effect  produced  upon  the  souls  of  the  inhabitants  by  the 
double  struggle  of  the  Irish  missionaries  against  the  gods  of 
paganism  and  the  forces  of  nature.  The  entire  life  of  the 
celebrated  apostle  of  German  Switzerland  is  thus  taken  pos- 
session of  by  legends,  which  have  interwoven  with  it  many 
tales,  the  charm  of  which  detains  us  in  spite  of  ourselves. 
One  of  these  shows  him  to  us  appealed  to  by  the  same  Duke 

**  OzANAM,  Etudes  Germaniques,  ii.  123 :  Rettberg,  Kirchengcschichte, 
ii,  40-43;  Vita  S.  Galli,  ap.  Fertz,  Monumenta,  ii.  .5.  "  Praecipio  tibi, 
bestia,  in  nomine  Domini.  Tu  induxisti  virum  istuni  in  hunc  eremum,  viruiu 
iniquum  ct  invidia  plenum.  .  .  .  Prsecipio  vobis,  phantasmata.  .  .  .  Heu ! 
quid  faciemus,  aut  quo  pergemus?  "  —  Walafrid.  Strabo,  ap.  Act.  SS.  O 
S.  B.,  t.  ii.  p.  224. 


586  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

of  Alamannia  who  wished  to  expel  Colurabaniis  and  his  com- 
panions out  of  his  province,  but  who  now  claimed  the  help  of 
the  holy  solitary  whose  fame  already  extended  afar, 
cess  Fried-  to  heal  his  daughter,  possessed  by  a  devil,  who  re- 
eburga.  gigted  all  oxorcisms,  crying  out  that  he  would  yield 
only  to  Gall,  who  had  already  banished  him  and  his  fellows 
from  the  banks  of  tlie  Lakes  of  Zurich  and  Constance.  Gall 
refused  to  go,  and  disappeared  into  the  mountains  of  Rhastia  ; 
he  was  found  there  in  a  cavern,  and  led  to  the  ducal  castle 
at  Uberlingen,  He  found  the  young  princess  lying,  as  if 
dead,  upon  the  knees  of  her  mother,  her  eyes  shut,  and  her 
mouth  open.  He  knelt  down  by  her  side,  after  a  fervent 
prayer,  commanded  the  demon  to  come  out  of  her.  The 
young  girl  opened  her  eyes,  and  the  demon,  speaking  by  her 
voice,  said,  before  it  obeyed  him.  "  Art  thou,  then,  that  Gall 
who  hast  already  chased  me  away  everywhere?  Ingrate  ! 
it  is  to  avenge  thee  that  I  have  entered  into  the  daughter  of 
thy  persecutor,  and  thou  comest  now  to  expel  me  again ! " 
When  the  cure  was  complete,  Gall  advised  the  daughter  of 
the  duke  to  consecrate  her  virginity  to  God,  who  had  deliv- 
ered her.  But  this  princess,  whose  name  was  Friedeburga 
(castle  of  peace),  and  who  was,  like  all  princesses  canonized 
by  legends,  of  singular  beauty,  had  been  affianced  to  Sige- 
bert,  the  eldest  son  of  Thierry  11. ,  who  had  just  succeeded 
his  father,  and  was  soon  to  perish  under  the  sword  of  Clo- 
taire  11.  She  was  sent  to  him  to  Metz.  When  he  learned 
how  and  by  whom  she  had  been  cured,  the  young  prince 
made  a  gift  and  concession  to  the  Irish  saint  of  all  the  terri- 
tory which  he  should  desire  in  the  public  or  royal  possessions 
between  the  Rhsetian  Alps  and  the  Lake  of  Constance.  Then 
he  wished  to  proceed  with  his  marriage.  Friedeburga  asked 
some  days'  respite  to  recover  her  strength  ;  she  took  advan- 
tage of  this  to  flee  to  a  church  dedicated  to  St.  Stephen. 
There  she  covered  herself  with  a  nun's  veil,  and,  taking 
hold  of  the  corner  of  the  altar,  prayed  to  the  saint  who  had 
first  shed  his  blood  for  Christ  to  help  her.  The  young  king, 
when  he  was  told  of  this,  came  to  the  church  with  the  nup- 
tial robe  and  crown  which  had  been  intended  for  his  bride. 
On  seeing  him,  she  held  closer  and  closer  to  the  altar.  But 
he  reassured  her,  and  said,  "  I  come  here  only  to  do  thy  will." 
He  commanded  the  priests  to  bring  her  from  the  altar  to  him  ; 
when  she  approached,  he  had  her  clothed  in  the  nuptial  robe, 
and  placed  the  crown  over  her  veil.     Then,  after  looking  at 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  587 

her  for  some  time,  he  said  to  her,  "  Such  as  tliou  art  iliere 
adorned  for  my  bridal,  I  yield  thee  to  the  bride-  offered  to 
jj;room  whom  thou   preferrest  to  me  —  to  my  Lord  brwe^^''*' 
Jesus  Christ."    Then  taking  her  hand,  he  placed  her  g>oom. 
at  the  altar,  and   left  the  church,  to  mourn  in  secret  over  his 
lost  love.^3 

However,  the    zealous    solitary  whose  influence  ^ .  ,     , 

•,       ,, '  f  \  1  ■  1  Origin  or 

inspired    irom    afar  tliose  touching  and    generous  thp abbey 
sacrifices,  refused  the  bishopric  of  Constance,  which  **  ^''  '*' ' 
the    Duke  of  Alamannia   would   have   conferred   upon  him, 
alleging  as  his  reason  the  kind  of  interdict  which  his  master 
had  pronounced  at  the  moment  of  separation,  and  returned 
into  his  dear  solitude,  which  ten  or  twelve  native  Christians 
soon  shared  with  him.^^     He  selected  one  of  these  to  send 
across  the  Alps  to  make  inquiries   concerning  the  fate  of 
Columbanus,  who  brought  back  from  Bobbio  the  news  of  his 
death,  and  the  crosier  of  the  illustrious  exile,  which  he  had 
bequeathed  to  his  compati'iot  and  friend  as  a  sign 
of  absolution.     Ten  years  later.  Gall  received  a  dep- 
utation of  six  monks,  Irish  like  himself,  from   Luxeuil,  who 
came  in  the  name  of  the  community  to  pray  his  acceptance  of 
the  government  of  the  great  abbey,  vacant  by  the  death  of 
Eustace.    But  he  again  refused  to  leave  that  asylum  Gaii  refuses 
which  he  had  formed  for  himself,  and  where  he  con-  abbot  of*^ 
tinned  to  preach  and  edify  the  surrounding  popu-  Luxeuii. 
lation,  receiving  disciples  and  visitors  in  always  increasing 
numbers,  whom  he  supported  by  the  produce  of  his  fishing. 

*^  "  Singular!  pulchritudine  fulgens.  ...  In  sinu  matris,  oculis  clausis, 
ore  inhianti.  .  .  .  Tu  ne  Gallus.  .  .  .  Ego  plane  ob  ultionera  injurias  quam 
Dux  iste  tibi  et  sociis  tuis  irrogavit  filiam  ipsius  invasi,  et  sic  ejicis  me.  .  .  . 
Sicut  mihi  fuisti  praeparata  cum  ornamentis,  sic  te  dabo  ad  sponsam  Domino 
meo  J.  C.  .  •  .  Deinde  ecclesiae  liraen  excedens  lacryrais  absconditum  pate- 
fecit  amorem.  —  Walafb.  Strabo,  c.  15-21.  "  Ob  quod  fertur  egressus 
flere."  —  Anon.  VII.  Scec.  All  these  facts  are  also  related  in  the  anonymous 
life  published  by  Pertz  in  the  seventh  century,  and  reproduced  by  the  new 
Bollandists  (t.  vii.  Octobris,  p.  887),  who  maintain  the  authenticity  of  the 
'essential  part  of  this  narration  against  the  criticisms  of  most  modern  histori- 
ans. Compare  Mabillon,  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.  p.  42,  and  Rettberg, 
Kirchengeschiclde  Deutschlands,  t.  ii.  p.  42.  The  most  serious  objection 
arises  from  the  age  of  Sigebert,  the  eldest  of  the  children,  whom  Columbanus 
had  refused  to  bless,  and  who  could  scarcely  be  more  than  thirteen  years  old 
in  613,  the  year  of  the  death  of  his  father,  Thierry,  himself  only  twenty -six 
years  of  age.  In  an  interesting  letter,  published  by  M.  Dantier,  in  his  Rap' 
port  sur  la  Correspondance  Inedite  des  Bcnedictins  (1857,  p  198),  Mabillon, 
while  admitting  the  existence  and  high  birth  of  Sigebert,  disputes  his  being 
the  son  of  Thierry  and  king  of  the  Franks. 

**  '•  Reversurus  ad  dilectae  solitudinis  aulam."  —  Wal.  Strabo,  c.  19. 


588  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

He  died.  When  lie  died,  the  entire  country  of  the  Alainana 
iGtirocto-  ^f^d  become  a  Christian  province,  and  around  his 
ber, 640.8^  pgjj  ^^q^q  already  collected  the  rudiments  of  tlie 
great  monastery  which,  under  the  same  name  of  St.  Gall,  was 
to  become  one  of  the  most  celebrated  schools  of  Christendom, 
and  one  of  the  principal  centres  of  intellectual  life  in  the 
Germanic  world. 

Several  generations  passed  before  St.  Gall  could  accom- 
plish ifo  glorious  destinies,  whilst  the  principal  foundation  of 
Influence  Columbanus  immediately  attained  the  climax  of  its 
porityot"  greatness  and  popularity.  No  monastery  of  the 
1  uxeuii.  West  had  yet  shone  with  so  much  lustre,  or  attracted 
so  many  disciples,  as  Luxeuil,  since  the  exile  t)f  its  illustrious 
f)under  fixed  upon  it  the  attention  and  sympathy  of  Chris- 
tian Gaiil.  It  may  be  remembered  that,  at  the  time  of  Colum- 
banus's  exile,  none  of  his  monks  who  were  not  Ii-ish  were 
allowed  to  follow  him.  One  of  these,  named  Eustace,  born 
of  a  noble  family  in  Burgundy,  and  who  had  been  a  soldier 
before  entering  Luxeuil,  had  to  be  torn  from  the  arms  of  his 
spiritual  father.  After  a  time,  he  followed  him  to 
second**^*'^  Bregeuz,  from  whence  he  returned  to  Luxeuil  to 
LuxeuH  govern  the  community  depi'ived  of  its  natural 
— -  head,  and  to  dispute  possession  with  the  secular 
persons  who  invaded  it  on  all  sides,  and  who  had 
even  established  their  shepherds  in  the  enclosure  inhabited 
by  the  monks.  Eustace  was  intrusted  by  Clotaire  IL,  when 
he  became  sole  master  of  the  three  Frank  kingdoms,  with 
the  mission  of  recalling  Columbanus,  as  we  have  already 
seen.  Upon  the  refusal  of  the  latter,  Eustace  remained  at 
the  head  of  the  great  abbey,  which  attracted  an  increasing 
number  of  monks,  and  the  veneration  of  the  nations.  How- 
ever, the  missionary  spirit  and  desire  to  preach  exercised  an 
overwhelming  influence  over  Eustace  as  over  all  the  dis- 
ciples of  the  great  Irish  missionary.  The  bishops 
assembled  in  the  Council  of  Bonneuil-sur-Maine  by 
Clotaire  II.,  nominated  him  to  preach  the  faith  to  unconvert- 
.  .  .  ed  nations.  He  began  with  the  Varasques,  who  in- 
among  the  habited,  not  far  from  Luxeuil,  the  banks  of  the  Doubs, 
Varasques.  ^Q^^y.  gaume,  somo  of  whom  were  still  idolaters,  and 
worshipped  the  genii  of  the  woods,  the  fauns  and  dryads  of 
classic  antiquity,  whilst  the  others  had  fallen  victims  to  her- 
esy.    He  afterwards  travelled  beyond  the   countries  which 

*■*  This  is  the  date  given  by  Mabillon,  and  confinncd  l)y  Rettberg,  ii.  46-48 
The  new  BoUandists,  p.  881,  prefer  that  of  627. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  &89 

Oolumbanus  had  visited,  to  the  extremity  of  Northern  Gaul, 
among-  the  Bo'iens  or  Bavarians.^^  His  mission  was  ^„,j  „nn,n<F 
not  without  success  ;  but  Luxeuil,  which  could  not  theBoiens? 
remain  thus  without  a  iiead,  soon  recalled  him. 

During  the  ten  years  of  his   rule,  a  worthy  successor  of 
Oolumbanus,  he  succeeded  in  securing  the  energetic  support 
of  the   Frank  nobility,  as   well   as  the  favor  of  Clotaire   II. 
under  his  active  and  intelligent  administration,  the   Luxeuii 
abbey  founded  by  St.  Oolumbanus  attained  its  hia-h-  became  the 

ITiOQilbtiC 

est  point  of  splendor,  and  was  recognized  as  the  mo-  capital  of 
nastic  capital  of  all  the  countries  under  Frank  gov-  *'^®^''*"^^- 
ernment.  The  other  monasteries,  into  which  laxness  and  the 
secular  spirit  had  but  too  rapidly  found  their  way,  yielded 
one  after  another  to  the  happy  influence  of  Luxeuii,  and  grad- 
ually renewed  themselves  by  its  example.^^  Abbots  animated 
)^y  sincere  zeal  did  not  hesitate  to  draw  from  that  new  fountain 
the  strength  and  light  with  which  tliey  found  themselves  un- 
provided in  their  ancient  sanctuaries.  Among  them  was 
Cont)n,  the  abbot  of  the  famous  monastery  of  Lerins,  which 
had  been,  two  centuries  before,  tiie  most  illustrious  commu- 
nity of  the  West,  but  which  had  since  come  through  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  a  slow  decay. 

Tlie  great  abbey  of  Soquania  became  thus  a  nursery  of 
bishops  and  abbots  —  preachers  and  reformers  for  the  whole 
Church  of  these  vast  countries,  and  principally  for  the  two 
kingdoms  of  Austrasia  and  Burgundy.  It  owed  this  preponder- 
ating influence  not  only  to  the  monastic  regularity  which  was 
severely  observed   there,  but    especially  to  the  flourishing 

^^  "Warascos  .  .  .  qui  agrestiuin  faiiis  decepti,  quos  vulgi  Faunos  vo- 
cant." —  Vita  S.  Agili,  c.  9,  ap.  Act.  SS.  0.  B.,  t.  ii.  p.  o06.  Compare 
Jonas,  Vita  S.  Eustasii ;  Vita  S.  Salabeigcs ;  Kettbekg,  t.  ii.  188 ;  and 
NiEDERMAYER,  Das  iMoncthtim  in  Bajuwarien,  1859.  p.  41.  This  last  autiior 
thinlvs  himself  entitled  to  iiffirm,  on  the  authority  of  P.  Meichelbeck,  that 
St.  Eustace  adopted  from  tliat  time  the  Benedictine  rule.  But  Meichelbeck, 
in  the  only  part  of  his  works  in  whicli  lie  treats  this  question  (^Chronic.  Ben- 
tdicto-  Buranum,  Proleg.,  p.  75,  Monachii,  1751),  gives  no  proof,  nor  any 
reason  but  the  insufficient  arguments  of  Mabillon.  See  above,  page  689, 
note  72. 

•*'  ••  Properabat  ad  monasteria,  maximeque  Lussedium,  quod  erat  eo  tem- 
pore cunctis  eniinentius  atque  districtius.  Neque  enim  tam  crobra  adhuc 
erant  in  Galliis  monasteria:  et  sicubi  essent,  non  sub  regulari  quidem  disci- 
plina,  sed  prorsus  erant  in  malitia  fermenti  veteris  saecularia.  Prseter  Lusse- 
dium ergo,  quod  solum,  ut  dictum  est,  districtionem  regulse  solerter  tenebat, 
Solemniacense  monasterium  in  partibus  occiduis  hujus  religionis  extitet 
caput.  Ex  quo  denmni  multi  sumpserunt  et  initium  et  exemplum,  adeo  ut 
nunc  quoque  propitia  divinitate.  innumera  per  omnem  Eranciam  et  Galliam 
iiabeantur  sub  regulari  discriplina,  alma  utriusque  sexus  coenobia." —  ArDOB* 
NC8,    Vita  S.  Eligii,  lib.  i.  c.  21.     (He  wrote  from  660  to  680.) 

yoL  I.  50 


590  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

school  established  by  Columbanus,  which  he  had  in- 
firs^  school  trusted,  while  he  remained  there,  to  the  special 
tendom*        charge  of  Eustace,  and  whose   progress  the  latter, 

wheu  he  himself  became  abbot,  promoted  with  un- 
wearied zeal.  Luxeuil  was  the  most  celebrated  school  of  Chris- 
tendom during  the  seventh  century,  and  the  most  frequented. 
The  monks  and  clerks  of  otlier  monasteries,  and,  more  numer- 
ous still,  the  children  of  the  noblest  Frank  and  Burgundian 
races,  crowded  to  it.  Lyons,  Autun,  Langres,  and  Stras- 
burg,  the  most  famous  cities  of  Gaul,  sent  their  youth  thither. 
The  fathers  came  to  study  with  their  children  ;  some  aspir- 
ing to  the  honor  of  counting  themselves  one  day  among  the 
sons  of  St.  Columbanus  ;  others  to  re-enter  into  secular  life 
with  the  credit  of  having  drawn  their  knowledge  of  divine 
and  human  learning  from  so  famous  a  seat  of  learning.  As  it 
always  happens,  when  a  great  centre  of  Cliristian  virtues  is 
formed  in  the  world,  light  and  life  shine  forth  from  it,  and 
brighten  all  around  with  irresistible  energy .^^ 

From  the  banks  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva  to  the  coast  of  the 
North  Sea,  every  year  saw  the  rise  of  some  monastery  peo- 
pled and  founded  by  the  children  of  Luxeuil,  whilst  the  epis- 
Bishops  copal  cities  sought  as  bishops  men  trained  to  the 
L^sued'from  govemmont  of  souls  by  the  regenerating  influence 
Luxeuil.  of  this  great  monastery.  Besancon,*Noyon,  Layon, 
Verdun,  an'd  the  diocesan  capitals  of  the  country  of  the  Rau- 
raques  and  Morins,  were  so  fortunate  as  to  obtain  such  bish- 
ops almost  at  the  same  time.  Their  good  fortune  was  envied 
by  all,  and  all  vied  in  seeking  superiors  whom  they  con- 
cluded beforehand  to  be  saiuts.^^     And  it  was  with  reason; 

*"  "Cum  omnium  Francorum  honore  fulciretnr." —  Vita  i'.  Uust^'^ii,  c. 
6.  "  Liixoviuin  omnium  caput  Burgundiae  monasterioruiu  et  Franciae."  — 
Gallia  Ghristiaii.  Vet.,  ap.  U.  Pitha,  298.  "  Pene  siiigulare  tarn  in  religi- 
onis  apioe  quam  in  perfectione  doctrinse."  —  Vita  S.  Frodobcrti,  u.  5.  Act. 
SS.  O.  B.,  t.  ii.  601. 

"  Viri  religiosi  illuc  undecunique  confluunt,  se  suosque  liljeros  plurimi 
certatim  imbuendos  otFerunt,  illud  ante  omnia  ducentes  per  maximum,  si 
post  longaevam  probantis  injuria  tolerantiam  quodammodo  admitti  mereantur 
in  congregationem.  Jam  vero  quis  locus  vel  civitas  non  gaudeat  ex  beati 
viri  Columbani  disciplina  rectorem  habere,  pontilicem  vel  abbatem,  cum  con- 
stet  ex  hujus  virtute  magisterii  pene  totum  Francorum  orbem  decretis  regu- 
laribus  fuisse  primum  decenter  ornatum?"  —  Adson,  Vita  S.  Bcrcharii,  c. 
6,  ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.  p.  80O. 

**  We  may  mention,  among  the  bishops  whose  names  will  not  recur  again, 
Hermenfried  of  Verdun,  son  of  one  of  the  principal  lords  of  Alsatia,  at  one 
time  a  soldier  and  lieutenant  of  King  Thierry  of  Burgundy.  He  was  touched 
b}'  grace  in  the  midtUe  of  a  battle,  and  became  a  monk  under  Columbanus 
about  605.     He  was  taken  from  Luxeuil  to  be  made  bishop  of  Verdun  about 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  591 

for  perhaps  so  great  a  number  of  men,  honored  by  the  ("hurch 
after  their  death  with  public  worship,  has  never  been  collect- 
ed on  one  point,  or  into  so  short  a  space  as  twenty  years.^*^ 

This  remarkable  prosperity  was  threatened  with  a  sudden 
interruption  by  meansof  the  intrigues  of  a  false  brother  who 
had  stolen  into  the  monastic  family  of  Columbanus.  attempt oi 
A  man  named  Agrestin,  who  had  been  notary  or  As'ostin 
secretary  to  King  Thierry,  the  persecutor  of  Colum-  thoinsti- 
banus,  came  one  day  to  give  himself  and  all  his  cofumba- 
property  to  Luxeuil.  Being  admitted  among  the  °"''- 
monks,  he  soon  showed  a  desire  to  go,  like  Eustace,  to 
preach  the  faith  to  the  pagans.  In  vain  the  abbot,  who 
could  see  no  evangelical  quality  in  him,  attempted  to  re- 
strain that  false  zeal.  He  was  obliged  to  let  him  go. 
Agrestin  followed  the  footst3"ps  of  Eustace  into  Bavaria,  bui 
made  nothing  of  it,  and  passed  from  thence  into  Istria  and 
Lombardy,  where  he  embraced  the  schism  of  the  Three 
Chapters,  which  had  already  put  Columbanus  in  danger  of 
compromising  himself  with  the  Holy  See.  But  the  authority 
of  the  sovereign  Pontiff  had  not  been  slow  in  exercising  its 
legitimate  influence  upon  the  Italian  disciples  of  the  great 
Irish  monk :  and  when  Agrestin  attempted  to  involve  the 
second  abbot  of  Bobbio,  Attalus,  in  the  schism,  he  Avas  so 
badly  received  that  he  imagined  himself  entitled  to  address 
the  successor  of  Columbanus  in  an  epistle  full  of  invectives 
and  calumnies.  He  returned  from  thence  to  Luxeuil,  where 
he  tried  to  corrupt  his  former  brethren.  Eustace  then  re- 
membered what  the  exiled  Columbanus  had  written  to  them, 
in  his  letter  from  Nantes,  just  before  his  embarkation:  ''If 
there  is  one  among  you  who  holds  different  sentiments  from 
the  others,  send  him  away  ;  "^^  and  he  commanded  Agrestin 

609.  Persecuted,  like  his  spiritual  master,  by  Brunehault,  and  sharing  after- 
wards in  all  the  misfortunes  of  his  diocese,  he  died  of  grief,  in  621,  at  sight 
of  the  calamities  of  his  people. 

^°  Vie  des  Saintcs  de  Franchc- Comte,  by  the  professors  of  the  College  of 
St.  Francois  Xavier,  tome  ii.  p.  492.  The  second  volume  of  this  excellent 
collection  is  exclusively  den  oted  to  the  saints  of  Luxeuil,  and  it  is  the  besi 
work  that  can  be  read  on  this  subject.  We  borrow  from  it  the  following 
enumeration  of  the  saints  sprung. from  the  Ahbey  of  Luxeuil  alone:  — 

Columbanus.  Valery.  Donatus. 

Columbanus  the  younger.  Waldolenus.  Attalus. 

Desle.  Sigisbert.  Leobard. 

Lua.  Eustace.  Bobi)lcnus. 

Gall.  Cagnoald.  Ursicin. 

Ragnacarius.  Hermenfried.  Waldalenus. 

Acharius.  Agilus.  Colombia. 

"'  "Tantum  inter  vos  non  sit  qui  unura  non  sit  .  .  .  quicumque  sint  re- 
belles  foras  exeant."  —  Ejpist.  ad  Fratres. 


592  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

to  leave  the  community.  To  avenge  himself,  the  schismatic 
began  to  snarl,  says  the  contemporary  annalist,  hawking  here 
and  there  injurious  imputations  against  that  same  rule  of  St. 
Columbanus  which  he  himself  had  professed,  and  the  success 
of  which  could  not  fail  to  have  excited  some  jealousy  and 
hostility.  One  of  the  bishops,  Abellinus  of  Geneva,  listened 
to  his  denunciations,  and  exerted  himself  to  make  the 
neighboring  prelates  share  his  dislike.  King  Clotaire,  who 
Councilor  heard  of  it,  and  who  was  always  full  of  solicitude 
Macon^  for  Luxcuil,  assembled  most  of  the  bishops  of  the 
624.  kingdom  of  Burgundy  in  council  at  Macon.  To 
this  council  Eustace  was  called,  and  the  accuser  invited  to 
state  his  complaints  against  the  rule  of  Luxeuil.  He  says 
nothing  of  the  celebration  of  Easter  according  to  the  Irish 
custom,  which  proves  that  Columbanus  or  his  disciples  had 
finally  givea  up  that  assumption;  nor  were  the  severe  pen- 
alties of  the  Penitentiary  touched  upon.  All  his  complaints 
were  directed  against  certain  insignificant  peculiarities, 
which  he  called  superfluous,  contrary  to  tlie  canons,  or 
showing  a  personal  spirit.  "  I  have  discovered,"  said  he, 
"  that  Columbanus  has  established  usages  which  are  not 
those  of  the  whole  Church."  And  thereupon  he  accused 
his  former  brethren,  as  with  so  many  heresies,  of  making  the 
sign  of  the  cross  upon  their  spoons,  when  eating;  of  asking  a 
blessing  in  entering  or  leaving  any  monastic  building;  and  of 
The  Irish  multiplying  prayers  at  mass.  He  insisted  especial- 
tonsure.  ]y  against  the  Irish  tonsure,  which  Columbanus  had 
introduced  into  France,  and  which  consisted  solely  in  shav- 
ing the  front  of  the  head  from  one  ear  to  the  other,  without 
touching  the  hair  of  the  back  part,  while  the  Greeks  shaved 
the  entile  head,  and  the  Romans  only  the  crown,  leaving  the 
hair  in  the  form  of  a  crown  round  the  lower  part  of  the  head. 
This  last  custom,  as  is  well  known,  became  the  prevalent  one 
in  all  the  religious  orders  of  the  West.^^ 

•*  "  Se  hue  illucque  vertit.  .  .  .  Canino  dente  garriens  ac  veluti  coenosa 
sus.  .  .  .  Ait  supertiua  qua^dam  et  canonicae  institutioni  aliena.  •  .  .  Coch- 
leam  quam  lambereiit  crebro  crucis  signo  signari.  .  .  .  Prorupit  dicens  se 
scire  Colunibanum  a  casterorura  more  desciscere."  —  Jonas,  Vita  S.  Eustas., 
c.  9-10.  The  tonsure  had  been  recognized,  from  apostolic  times,  as  sym- 
bolical of  the  religious  vow,  as  is  proved  by  the  sacred  text  relative  to  the 
Jew  Aqaila,  who  was  Paul's  host  at  Corinth:  "Navigavit  in  Syriam  et  cum 
80  Priscilhi  et  Aquila,  qui  siii  totonderat  in  Cenchris  caput:  habebat  euini 
votum." —  Act.  xviii.  18.  Some  years  after  the  Synod  of  Macon,  the  Coun- 
cil of  Toledo,  in  6&3,  regulated  the  form  of  the  tunsure,  and  of  that  circle 
of  short  hair  round  the  head,  called  corona  clericalis.  It  appears  that  the 
nuns  were  not  always  constrained  to  sacrifice  their  long  hair,  like  the  monks. 
This  is  shown  in  the  curious  anecdote  related  by  Hildegaire,  bishop  of  Meaux 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  51)3 

Eustace  had  no  difficulty  in  justifying  the  customs  of 
fjuxeuil,  and  in  discomfiting  the  violence  of  his  accuser. 
But  as  Agrestin  always  returned  to  the  charge,  the  abbot 
said  to  him  :  "  In  presence  of  these  bishops,  I,  the  disciple 
and  successor  of  him  whose  institute  thou  condemnest,  cite 
thee  to  appear  with  him,  within  a  year,  at  the  tribunal  of 
God,  to  plead  thy  cause  against  him,  and  to  learn  and  know 
the  justice  of  Him  whose  servant  thou  hast  attempted  to 
calumniate."  The  solemnity  of  this  appeal  had  an  effect 
even  upon  the  prelates  who  leant  to  Agrestin's  side :  they 
urged  him  to  be  reconciled  to  his  former  abbot,  and  the 
latter,  who  was  gentleness  itself,  consented  to  give  him  the 
kiss  of  peace.  But  this  goodness  did  not  benefit  Agrestin. 
Hopeless  of  succeeding  at  Luxeuil  itself,  he  sowed  revolt 
and  calumny  in  the  other  monasteries  which  had  proceeded, 
like  Luxeuil,  from  the  colonizing  genius  of  Columbanus,  at 
Rerairemont  and  Faremoutier.  But,  before  the  end  of  the 
year,  he  was  slain  with  a  blow  of  an  axe  by  a  slave,  whose 
wife,  it  is  believed,  he  had  intended  to  dishonor.^^ 

The  bishops  of  the  Council  of  Macon,  and  the  Bishop  of 
Geneva  above  all  others,  became  from  that  time  the  cham- 
pions and  protectors  of  the  institute  of  St.  Columbanus. 
Like  them,  many  other  prelates  of  Gaul  distinguished  them- 
selves by  their  eagerness  in  founding  or  protecting  new 
monasteries  destined  to  extend  or  practise  the  Irish,  rule. 
The  glory  of  Columbanus  and  Luxeuil  came  fortli  uninjured, 
and  indeed  increased,  from  this  trial.  However,  although 
no  contemporary  document  expressly  says  as  much,  it  is 
evident  that  from  that  time  the  heads  of  the  institution  per- 
ceived the  necessity  of  Boftening  the  intense  individuality 
of  their  founder's  spirit.  Through  the  passionate  and  exag- 
gerated accusations  of  Agrestin,  their  eyes  were  opened  to 
the  dangers  of  isolation,  even  in  what  were  apparently  un- 
important details  of  observance  and  regular  discipline. 
They  perceived,  with  profound  Christian  sagacity,  that 
they  must  give  up  the  thought  of  extending  the  Rule  of 

in  the  ninth  century,  in  the  life  of  his  predecessor,  St.  Faron.  The  holy 
bishop,  wisliing  to  see  his  wife  again,  from  whom  he  had  been  obliged  to  sep- 
arate in  order  to  become  a  bishop,  and  who  lived  as  a  nun  in  a  villa  of  his 
patrimony,  she,  for  fear  of  exciting  a  culpable  regret  in  the  mind  of  her  hus- 
band, "  se  totondit  totara  caesariem  capitis,  in  quo  consistebat  ornamentum 
pulchrius  corporis."  The  precaution  succeeded  so  well,  that  Faroe,  seeing 
her  thus  shaven,  "amarissirao  taedio  exhorruit."  —  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii 
p.  592. 

"'  Jonas,  c.  12-1&, 

60* 


594  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

their  master  everywhere,  and  as  the  only  monastic  code. 
They  knew  that  by  their  side  a  Rule  more  ancient  than 
their  own,  and  fortified  by  the  formal  approbation  of  the 
Roman  Pontiff,  lived  and  flourished,  without  brilliant  suc- 
cess it  is  true,  up  to  that  time,  but  not  without  fruit  or 
honor.  Bj^  what  means  w^as  the  Abbey  of  Luxeuil  brought 
The  Bene-  ^"^^  contact  with  the  Rule  of  St.  Benedict?  By 
dictineRuie  what  argument  did  this  powerful  and  celebrated 
edwith  ithe  housc  opcu  her  doors  to  another  glory  and  authority 
CoiumtKi"'^  than  that  of  her  founder?  Tljere  is  no  answer  to 
o"'*-  this  question:^*  but  it  is  certain  that,  under  the 

Biiccessor  of  Eustace,  who  died  a  year  after  the  Council  of 
Macon,  and  after  that  time,  in  the  numerous  foundations  of 
which  we  have  still  to  speak,  the  two  Rules  almost  always 
appear  together,  as  the  joint  bases  of  communities  originated 
by  the  disciples  of  Columbanus.^-^  The  monastic  republic  of 
Gaul,  which  apparently  ought  to  have  recognized  only  one 
dictator,  henceforth  was  to  have  two  consuls,  Hke  the  Roman 
republic  of  old. 

The  successor  of  Eustace  was  Walbert,  also  a 
waibort  pupil  and  Companion  of  Columbauus.  BornofSicam- 
the'third  briau  racc,  of  a  noble  and  wealthy  i'amily,  he  hid 
Luxeuil  been  remarked  for  his  bravery  in  war.  before  he  en- 
—  rolled  himself  in  the  army  of  the  Irish  missionary. 
But  the  attraction  of  the  cloister  overcome  the  war- 
like inclinations  of  the  Frank.  When  his  mind  was  made  up, 
he  went  to  Luxeuil,  taking  with  him  not  onl}'  a  gift  of  all  his 
vast  domains,  but  also  his  military  dress,  of  which  he  would 
only  divest  himself  in  the  monastery  itself:  he  offered  also 
the  arms  with  which  he  had  won  his  fame,  which  were  sus- 
pended from  the  arches  of  the  church,  and  remained  there 
during  the  course  of  ages,  as  a  monument  of  the  noblest  vie- 

*■•  There  is  nothing  to  authorize  the  account  of  Orderie  Vital,  who,  five 
centuries  subsequent  to  the  foundation  of  Luxeuil,  asserts  that  St.  Maur  — 
who  died  in  584  —  was  known  by  the  disciples  of  St.  Columbanus,  wlio  died  in 
615;  but  it  will  gratify  our  readei-s  to  quote  here  a  passage  from  that  histo- 
rian, who  thus  explains  the  effect  produced  on  monastic  posterity  by  the 
fttsion  of  the  two  institutions  :  —  "  Ipsi  (the  disciples  of  Columbanus)  reor, 
B.  Maurum  ejusque  socios  et  discipulos  noverunt,  utpote  vicini,  et  ab  ipsis 
sicut  ab  aliis  scripta  doctorum,  aedificationis  causa,  sancti  normam  suscepere 
Benedicti,  Ha  iamen  ui  non  abhorrerent  sui  statiita  magistri,  alnii  videlicet 
Columbani.  Ab  ipso  siquidem  modum  divinse  servitutis  et  ordinem  didice- 
irunt,  et  formam  orationum  ;  .  .  .  nigredinem  vestium  aliasque  observationes 
Bunipserunt  quas  pro  religione  et  honestate  ipsius  tenuerunt,  et  sequacei 
leoxMrn  usque  in  hodierjium  reverenter  observare  appetunt."  —  Orderic  V* 
TAL,  Hist.  Eccles.,  lib.  viii.  c.  27. 

'*  Mabillon,  Praf.  in  II.  Scec,  c.  15;  Prcsf.  in  IV.  Scbc,  c.  12tf,  127 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  595 

tory  which  a  man  can  achieve  here  belovv.^s  fjg  obtained 
permission  from  Eustace  to  live  alone  in  the  hollow  of  a  rock, 
near  a  fountain  in  the  midst  of  the  wood,  three  miles  from  the 
abbey.  It  was  here  that,  after  the  death  of  Colurabanus's 
first  successor  Eustace,  and  the  refusal  of  Gall  to  accept  the 
office,  the  monks  of  Lnxeuil  sought  Walbert  to  make  him 
their  third  abbot.  He  ruled  thorn  for  fortv  years 
With  honor  and  success.  We  shall  see  hereafter  the 
sympathy  which  existed  between  Walbert  and  Bathild,  tlio 
holy  regent  of  the  three  Frank  kingdoms,  and  the  power  he 
was  supposed  to  have  over  her.  His  name  remains,  in  the. 
surrounding  countries,  the  most  popular  of  ail  those  who 
have  done  honor  to  the  great  abbey  of  Sequania.  He  main- 
tained discipline  and  encouraged  profound  study,  while  he 
increased  the  property  of  the  community,  by  his  own  dona- 
tions in  the  first  place,  and  then  by  those  which  the  reputation 
of  the  monastery  attracted  from  all  sides. 

To  the  temporal  independence  thus  secured,  was  soou 
added  a  sort  of  spiritual  independence  eagerly  sought  b}^  aii 
the  great  monasteries,  and  which  the}'  spared  no  pains  in 
soliciting  either  from  the  popes  or  provincial  councils.  Their 
object  was  to  protect  themselves,  by  a  solemn  privilege,  from 
the  vexatious  abuses  of  authority,  which  the  diocesan  bishop, 
by  right  of  his  spiritual  authority,  could  subject  them  to,  l^y 
taking  np  his  abode  among  tliem  against  tlieir  will,  with  a 
numerous  retinue,  by  making  them  pay  a  very  high  price  for 
the  holy  chrism  and  the  ordination  of  their  brethren,  or,  above 
all,  by  obstructing  the  freedom  of  their  elections.  Lerins 
had  obtained  this  privilege  from  the  Council  of  Aries  in  451^ 
and  Agaune  from  the  Council  of  Clialon  in  579.  Luxeuil 
could  not  fail  to  feel  the  importance  of  the  same  rights  and 
the  same  necessities. 

Under  the  abbacy  of  Walbert,  and  upon  a  peti- 
tion made  in  the  name  of  King  Clovis  11.,  then  a  acco?d^d**° 
minor,  Pope  John  IV".  accorded  the  privilege  of  ex-  johnTv. 
emption  from  episcopal  authority  "  to  the  monastery       — 
of  St.  Peter,  founded,"  says  the  pontifical  act,  ''  by 

96  <<yjr  egregius  ex  genere  Sicambrorum." —  Vita  S.  German.  Grandiv., 
ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.  p.  491.  "  Cujus  annos  adolescentiae  in  armis 
tradunt  excellentissinie  floruisse  .  .  .  inclyta  prosapia  clarissimus  .  .  .  ho- 
minibus  et  rerum  dignitate  juxta  natales  suos  distissinius  .  .  .  miles  optimus 
inter  fasces  constitutus  et  arma  .  .  .  armisque  depositis  quas  usque  hodie  (in 
the  time  of  Adson,  about  950)  in  testimonium  sacras  militiie  ejus  in  eo  loco 
habentur."  —  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  iv.  p.  411.  The  hermitage  in  which  St 
Walbert  passed  the  first  years  of  his  conversion  is  still  to  be  seen  at  som* 
distance  from  Luxeuil.     He  died  in  665. 


596  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

the  venerable  Colurabanus,  a  Scot,  who  came  a  stranger,  but 
I'ervont  in  zeal  and  sanctity  in  the  kingdom  of  the  Pranks. 
.  .  .  If,  which  God  foibid,  the  monks  of  the  said  monastery 
should  become  lukewarm  in  the  love  of  God  and  observance 
of  the  institutes  of  their  father,  they  shall  be  puni.shed  by  tho 
abbot,  that  is,  by  the  father  of  the  monastery  ;  and  if  he  him- 
self should  fall  into  indifference,  and  contempt  of  the  paternal 
rule,  the  Holy  See  shall  provide  for  that."  ^' 

Six   hundred   monks   formed,  under  the  cross  of  Walbert, 

the  permanent  garrison  of  this  monastic  citadel, 
sithein-  irom  whonco  missionaries,  solitary  or  in  parties,  is- 
Luxeuir^'  sued  daily  to  found  new  monastic  colonies  at  a  dis- 
undorwai-    tauce.     There  even  came  a  time  when  the  throng 

of  monks  seeking  entrance  seems  to  have  embar- 
rassed Walbert,  and  when  he  sought  means  of  placing  them 
elsewhere  and  at  a  distance.  For  under  him,  even  more  than 
under  his  predecessors,  the  productiveness  of  Luxeuil  be- 
came prodigious.  It  was  at  tliis  period  particularly,  as  says 
a  contemporary,  that,  throughout  the  whole  of  Gaul,  in  the 
castles  and  cities,  in  plains  and  in  deserts,  armies  of  monks 
and  colonies  of  nuns  abounded  everywhere,  carrying  with 
them  the  glory  and  the  laws  of  Benedict  and  Colurabanus.^^ 

^^  Mabilion  found  a  fragment  of  the  text  of  tliis  bull  in  the  archives  of 
Montierender :  he  lias  completed  it  from  the  diplomas  of  the  subsequent 
popes,  and  published  it  in  his  Annal.  Bened.,  t.  xiii.  No.  11,  and  Append., 
No.  18.  The  bull  of  John  IV.  has  been  disputed  by  Brequigny,  in  his  Dip- 
lomata,  QhartcB,  &c.,  1791,  folio,  p.  ISfi-lSS.  Admitting  that  it  may  be 
interpolated,  it  is  certain  that  the  exemption  granted  to  Luxeuil  was,  in  fact, 
neither  less  solemn  nor  less  extensive  than  those  of  Lerins  and  Agaune.  It 
is  instanced  in  the  same  terms  in  the  Formulas  of  Marculph  relative  to  ex- 
emptions (book  1,  tit.  i.),  and  in  all  the  privileges  granted  in  the  seventh 
century,  such  as  those  of  St.  Denys,  Corbie,  &c.  Mabilion  himself  admits 
that  the  bull  of  Pope  John  IV.  can  only  be  a  confirmation  of  previous  ex- 
emptions, and  this  is  the  most  probable  supposition,  seeing  that  mention  had 
been  already  made  of  the  privilege  of  Luxeuil  in  the  charter  granted  to 
Rebais  by  Dagobert  I.  in  (334.  We  may  be  permitted  to  decline  any  discus- 
sion of  the  document,  entirely  foreign  to  the  question,  by  which  a  lamented 
and  distinguished,  but  paradoxical  writer,  tlie  Count  Alexis  de  Saint-Priest, 
in  his  Ilistoire  de  la  Royaide,  t.  ii.  p.  157,  supposed  himself  able  to  prove 
his  theory  of  the  imaginnry  opposition  between  Rome  and  Luxeuil. 

^  "  Cernens  .  .  .  Waldebertus  certatim  undique  catervas  monachorum 
coadunari,  coepit  de  tarn  plurima  multitudme  si  forte  ubi  ubi  posset  loca 
uberrima  ubi  de  suis  monachis  ad  iiabitandum  adunare  exquirere." —  Vita 
S.  Germ.  Grandiv.,  c.  8.  "  Walberti  tempore  per  Galliarum  provincias 
itgmina  monachorum  et  sacrarum  virginum  examina  non  solum  per  agros, 
villas,  vicosque  atque  castella,  verum  etiam  per  eremi  vastitatera  ex  regula 
duntaxat  Benedict!  et  Columbani  puUulare  coejierunt,  cum  ante  illud  tempus 
vix  pauca  illis  reperirentur  locis."  —  Vita  S.  Salabergce,  ap.  Act.  SS.  Obd. 
Benko.,  saec.  ii.  t.  ii.  p.  407. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  597 

It  would  be  a  hard  task  to  trace  the  faithful  pic-  . 

ture  of  that  moiiasitic  colonization  of  Gaul,  which  Luxeaiiic 
had,  during  the  whole  of  the  seventh  century,  its  *^''"'' 
centre  in  Luxeuil.  A  single  glance  must  suffice  here.  To 
find  our  way  through  this  labyrinth,  it  is  necessary  to  survey 
rapidly  the  principal  provinces  which  received,  one  after 
another,  the  benefits  of  this  pacific  conquest.  This  rapid 
course  will  permit  us  to  breatlie  the  perfume  of  some  of  thoi-e 
flowers  of  exquisite  charity  and  sweet  humbleness,  which 
blossomed  amid  the  savage  violence  and  brutal  crnelty  of 
which  Christendom  was  then  the  theatre.  It  will  show  us 
also  how  many  obstacles  and  dangers  these  men  of  peace  and 
prayer  had  to  surmount,  and  how,  subdued  under  the  yoke 
of  the  monastic  rule,  in  solitude  or  in  the  community  of  the 
cloister,  the  Franks  who  gave  themselves  to  God  under  the 
laws  of  Columbanus  or  Benedict,  allowed  neither  the  generous 
courage  nor  the  proud  independence  of  their  fathers  to  de- 
generate in  them  ;  how  they  displayed,  above  all,  in  every 
encounter,  that  individual  energy  and  initiative  force  which 
was  characteristic  of  the  Germanic  races,  and  wliich  alone 
could  regenerate  the  West,  so  long  sunk  under  the  ignoble 
burden  of  Roman  decrepitude. 

But  before   studying  the  action  of  Columbanus  And  first 
and  his  followers  uDon  the  Frank  and  Bur<»;undian  '"the two 
nobility  at  a  distance,  we  find,  not  far  from  Luxeuil,   dies. 
a  great  foundation  due  to  one  of  those  Irish  monks  who  were 
the  faithful   companions  of  him  who,  four  centui'ies  after  his 
death,  was  still  called  "the  king  of  monks  and  conductor  of 
the  chariot  of  God."     It  will  be  recollected  that,  at  his  ex- 
pulsion from  Luxeuil,  the  Irish  monks  alone  were  permitted 
to  follow  him.     One  of  them,  then  advanced  in  years,  and  be- 
lieved to  have  been  a  brother  of  St.  Gall,  whose  Celtic  name 
has    disappeared    under    the    Latin    appelhition    of  x,^g(,,fj 
Deicolus  or  Desle  (servant  of  God),  when  he  had   l^^^ll  monk 
reaiihed   with    Columbanus    a    place    covered   with   rounde/of 
brushwood,  some  miles  distant  from  Luxeuil,  upon  ^"''^ 
the   road   to   Besangon,  felt  his   limbs   fail,  and  per-      ci3-.i25. 
ceived  that  he  could  go  no  farther.     Throwing  himself  at  tho 
feet  of  his  abbot,  he  asked  and  obtained  permission,  with  the 
blessing  of  Columbanus,  to  accomplish  iiis  pilgrimage  in  this 
desert.     After  a  tearful  separation,  when  he  found  himself 
alone,  he  set  out  to  find  a  place  of  rest  in  the  forest.     Search- 
ing through  the  thicket,  he  met  a  flock  of  swine,  the  herds- 
man of  which  was  thunderstruck  at  sight  of  this  stranger  of 


598  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

great  height,  and  clad  in  a  costume  unknown  to  him.  "  Who 
are  you?"  asked  the  swineherd,  ''  whence  come  you  ?  what 
seek  you  ?  what  are  3'ou  doing  in  this  wild  country  without 
guide  or  companion  ?  "  "  Be  not  afraid,  my  brother,"  said 
the  old  Irishman,  '•  I  am  a  traveller  and  a  monk  ;  and  1  beg 
you  for  charity  to  show  me  hereabouts  a  place  where  a  man 
may  live."  The  swineherd  answered  him,  that  in  this  neigh- 
borhood the  only  place  he  knew  was  marshy,  but  still  habit- 
able, because  of  tiie  abundance  of  water,  and  belonged  to  a 
powerful  vassal  called  Werfair.  He  refused,  however,  to 
guide  him  to  it,  lest  his  flock  should  stray  in  his  absence  ; 
but  Desle  insisted,  and  said,  with  that  daring  gayety  which 
we  still  find  among  the  Irish,  "  If  thou  do  me  this  little  favor, 
I  answer  for  it  that  thou  shalt  not  lose  the  very  least  of  thy 
herd  ;  my  staff"  shall  replace  thee,  and  be  swineherd  in  thy 
absence."  And  thereupon  he  stuck  his  traveller's  staff"  into 
the  ground,  round  which  the  swine  collected  and  lay  down  ; 
upon  which  the  two  set  out  through  the  wood,  the  Irish 
monk  and  the  Burgundian  swineherd,  and  thus  was  discov- 
ered and  taken  possession  of  the  site  of  the  existing  town  of 
Lure,  and  of  that  great  monastery  of  the  same  name,  the 
abbot  of  which,  eleven  centuries  after  tliis  adventure,  was 
reckoned  among  the  princes  of  the  holy  Roman  empire.^^ 

But  Desle  was  not  at  the  end  of  his  difficulties.  Near  his 
new  retreat  was  a  little  church,  frequented  by  the  shepherds 
and  peasants  of  the  neighborhood,  and  served  by  a  secular 
priest,  who  saw  the  arrival  of  the  disciple  of  Columbanus  in 
these  regions  with  an  evil  eye  :  "This  monk,"  he  said,  "  will 
interfere  with  my  living."  And  he  told  his  hearers  that  this 
stranger  was  a  magician,  who  hid  himself  in  the  wood  that 
he  might  give  himself  up  to  his  incantations,  "  and  that  he 
had  come  at  midnight,  under  pretence  of  praying,  to  my 
chapel,  the  doors  of  which  I  had  closed  in  vain :  a  single 
word  from  him  sufficed  to  open  them."  The  priest  afterwards 
denounced  him  to  Werfair,  the  lord  of  the  place,  asking  him 
if  he  was  disposed  to  allow  a  certain  foreign  monk  to  take 
possession  of  his  chapel,  without  any  one  being  able  to  put 
him  out  of  it.  With  that  lnutal  ferocity  which  constantly 
reappeared  among  those  baptized  barbarians,  Werfair  com- 
manded that  the  stranger  should  be  seized  if  possible,  and 
that  the  punishment  of  castration  should  be  inflicted  on  him. 
,  But  before  that  impious  order  could  be  obeyed,  he  was  him- 

*"  See  the  article  '•  Clinpitrc.'s  NobK's  de'Lure  et  de  Murbacli  Reunis,"  in 
the  France  EccUsiasiiqut  t'ur  ihi.'  year  1788,  p.  78. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  599 

self  suddenly  seized  with  shameful  and  mortal  sickness.  Hi3 
pious  widow,  in  the  hope  of  softening  divine  justice  towardii 
the  soul  of  her  husband,  made  a  gift  of  all  the  land  whicli 
surrounded  the  site  of  Lure  to  the  monk  who  called  himself 
the  traveller  of  Christ,  and  numerous  disciples  soon  came  to 
live  by  his  side  a  life  of  peace  and  prayer.  Their  pious  soli- 
tude was  one  day  disturbed,  as  has  been  already  mentioned, 
by  King  Glotaire  II.,  whose  name  perpetually  recurs  in  the 
history  of  Columbanus  and  his  disciples.  As  the  king  was 
one  day  hunting  in  a  royal  domain  near  Lure,  a  boar,  pursued 
by  the  nobles  of  his  train,  took  refuge  in  the  cell  of  Desle. 
The  saint  laid  his  hand  upon  its  head,  saying,  "  Since  thou 
comest  to  ask  charity,  thy  life  shall  be  saved."  The  king, 
when  told  of  it  by  the  hunters  who  had  followed  the  animal, 
desired  to  see  that  wonder  for  himself  When  he  knew  that 
the  old  recluse  was  a  disciple  of  that  Columbanus  whom  he 
had  always  honored  and  protected,  he  inquired  affectionately 
what  means  of  subsistence  the  abbot  and  his  companions 
could  find  in  that  solitude.  '•  It  is  written,"'  said  the  Irish- 
man, ''  that  nothing  shall  be  wanting  to  those  who  fear  God  ; 
we  lead  a  poor  life,  but  with  the  fear  of  God  it  suffices  for 
us."  Clotaire  bestowed  upon  the  new  community  all  the  for- 
ests, pasturage,  and  fisheries  possessed  by  the  public  treas- 
ury in  the  neighborhood  of  Lure,  which  became  from  that 
time,  and  always  remained,  one  of  the  richest  monasteries  in 
Christendom.ioo 

Lure  and  Luxeuil  were  situated  in  the  north  of  ancier.  t 
Sequania,    then  included  in  the  kingdom  of  Burgundy,  of 

100  "Cum  monarches  atque  auriga  Dei  Columbanus.  .  .  .  Pedibus  velie- 
menter  debilitari  coepit.  .  ,  .  Bubulcus  videns  tam  procerae  staturaj  virum  et 
antea  invisi  habitus  veste  circumdatum.  .  .  .  Ne  paveas,  frater :  peregrinus 
ego  sum ;  nionachicum  propositum  gero.  .  .  .  Fustem  meuin  cc.nstituo  uus- 
todein  vicariiim.  .  .  .  Heurailii!  propter  unum  monacliiim  jam  hie  vivere 
non  possum.  .  .  .  Latitat  quidam  in  hac  silvula  monachus  quidain  peregri- 
nus, qui  nescio  quibus  incantationibus  utitur.  .  .  .  Placet  tibi  ut  monachus 
quidam  capellulam  tuam  sibi  vindicet.  .  .  .  Idem  merabrum  qnod  famulo 
Dei  pi-fficidi  jussit  raox  illi  in  tumorem  versum  est.  .  .  .  Peregrinus  sum  pro 
Christo.  .  .  .  Cui-tem  fiscumque  regalem.  .  .  .  Crede  niihi,  quia  ad  charita- 
tem  confugisti,  hodie  vita  non  privaberis.  .  .  .  Rex  suhjunxit:  Et  unde, 
pater  venerande,  vivis,  vel  hi  qui  tecum  sunt?  .  .  .  Pauperem  vitam  geri- 
mus."  —  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.  pp.  95-L'9.  This  legend,  written  in  tlie 
tenth  century,  and  which  contains  very  curious  details  of  the  spoliations  to 
which  the  abbey  was  subjected  under  the  last  Carlovingians,  adds  that,  be- 
fore his  death,  Desle  went  to  Rome  to  seek  a  privilege  from  the  Holy  See  to 
oppose  the  rapacity  of  the  Burgundians  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  founda- 
tion, whose  usurpations  he  feared,  although  admitting  their  liberality.  Bui 
the  mention  made  in  this  privilege  of  a  Roman  emperor  in  the  seventh  ceO' 
tury  sufficiently  proves  its  falsehood. 


600  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

'A'-hich,  as  well  as  Austrasia,  Clotaire  II.  had  become  the 
master.  The  whole  of  that  wide  and  beautiful  district  of 
Burgundy  which  retains  its  name,  and  which,  to  the  west 
and  east  of  the  river  Saone,  has  since  formed  the  duchy,  and 
particularly  the  county  of  Burgundy,  was  naturally  the  first 

to  yield  to  the  influence  of  Luxeuil.  This  district 
lamiiy'ot  was,  from  the  time  of  Colurabanus,  governed,  or 
auf/itT'**"''  rather  possessed,  by  a  powerful  family  of  Burgoude 
fouiKia-        origin,  whose  connection  with  Columljanus  and  his 

disciples  demonstrated  once  more  the  powerful  in- 
Uuence  exercised  upon  the  Frank  nobility  by  the  great 
Irish  monk.  This  house  was  represented  by  two  brothers, 
who  both  bore  the  title  of  duke  :  the  one,  Amalgar,  was  duke 
of  Burgundy  to  the  west  and  north  of  the  Doubs  ;  the  other, 
Waldelen  or  Wandelin,  lived  at  Besancon,  and  his  duchy  ex- 
tended to  the  other  side  of  Jura,  as  far  as  the  Alps.^*^i  Wal- 
delen and  his  wife  suffered  much  from  having  no  children 
to  whom  to  leave  their  immense  possessions.  The  renown 
of  the  first  miracles  and  great  sanctity  of  the  Irish  monk,  who 
had  established  himself  not  far  from  Besancon,  drew  them  to 
Luxeuil.  They  went  to  ask  him  to  pray  for  them,  and  to 
obtain  them  a  son  from  the  Lord.  "  I  will  do  it  willingly," 
said  the  saint;  "and  I  will  ask  not  only  one,  but  several,  on 
condition  that  you  give  me  the  first-born,  that  I  maj^  baptize 
him  with  my  own  hands,  and  dedicate  him  to  the  Lord." 
The  promise  was  made,  and  the  mere}'  obtained.  The  duch- 
ess herself  carried  her  first-born  to  Luxeuil,  where  Colum- 
banus  baptized  him,  giving  him  the  name  of  Donat  [Donatus) 
in  testimony  of  the  gift  which  his  parents  had  made  of  him 
to  God.  He  was  restored  to  his  mother  to  be  nursed,  and 
then  brought  back  to  be  trained  in  the  monastery,  where  the 

child    grew  up,  and    remained    until,  thirty  years 

after,  he  was  taken  from  it  to  be  made  bishop  of 
Besancon.     In   that  metropolitan  city,  where  the  exile  of 

""  The  following  table  appears  indispensable  to  explain  the  narrative :  — 
I.  N.,  liurgundian  noble. 


II.  Waldelen,  duke  at  Besancon,  II.  Amalgaibe,  duke  in  Burgundy, 

married  Fl.vvia,  married  Aquiline, 

from  whom —  from  whom  — 

I  ! 

111.  DoNATiTs,  bishop  III.  Kamalen,  duke   III.  Adalric,    III.  Walda-  III.  Adal^ 

of  Besangon,  foun-           after  liis  lather,  duke  after           lkn,  first          sind, 

dor  of  St.  Paul  and           restorer  of   Ro  hisiather.           abbot    of          abbess 

of    Jussamoutier.           maia-Moutier.  Beze.      f           ofBre 

t660.  about  CSO.          gille. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  601 

Oolumbanns  had  doubtless  left  popular  recollections,  Douatua, 
out  of  love  for  his  spiritual  father,  established  a  monastery 
of  men  under  the  rule  of  Columbanus,  and  dedicated  to  St. 
Paul,  as  Luxeuil  was  to  St.  Peter.  He  added,  how-  g^  ^>,^^^lf^f 
ever,  to  tlie  observance  of  the  rule  of  the  founder  of  i5e8an9on. 
Luxeuil,  that  of  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict,  which  was  intro- 
duced about  the  same  period  at  Luxeuil  itself.  He  himself 
lived  there  as  a  monk,  always  wearing-  the  monastic  dress. 
Afterwards,  with  the  help  of  his  mother,  and  also  in  his  epis- 
copal city  of  Besangon,  he  originated  the  monastery  jussa- 
of  Jussaraoutier  for  nuns,  giving  them  a  rule  in  moutier. 
which  that  of  St.  Ccesarius,  which  we  have  already  seen 
adopted  by  Radigund  at  Poitiers,  was  combined  with  various 
arrangements  borrowed  from  the  rules  of  Columbanus  and 
Beuedict.io^  Tlie  Latin  of  the  preamble,  which  was  written 
by  Donatus  himself,  does  honor  to  the  school  of  Luxeuil.  The 
daughters  of  Jussamoutier  rivalled  the  monks  of  Luxeuil  in 
zeal  and  fervor,  but  they  asked  expressly  that  the  laws  of  the 
two  patriarchs  should  be  modified  so  as  to  suit  the  difference 
of  sex.  They  do  not  seem,  however,  to  have  objected  to  any 
of  the  severities  of  Irish  tradition,  for  we  see  with  surprise 
in  that  version  of  the  three  rules  adapted  to  their  use,  the 
penalty  of  fifty  or  even  a  hundred  lashes  inflicted  upon  these 
virgins  for  certain  faults  against  discipline.  The  wiser  and 
gentler  rule  of  Benedict  gained  ground,  notwithstanding,  at 
each  new  manifestation  of  religious  life. 

The  younger   brother   of  Donatus,  Raraelen,  who 
succeeded  his  father  as  Duke  of  Transjuran  Burgun-  lishmeot'of 
dy,  sii;  lalized  his  reverence  for  the  memory  of  Co-  Moutie"'. 
lumbanus  by  the  foundation  or  reconstruction  of  the        — 
abbey  of  Romain-Moutier,  in  a  pass  on  the  southern 
side  of  Jura,  consecrated  to  prayer,  two  centuries  before,  by 
the  founder  of  Condat.^o^     He  introduced  a  colony  from  Lux- 
euil there  :   the  ancient  church,  often  rebuilt,  exists  still:  it 

102  u  Utrique  erant  ex  nobili  Burgundioruni  prosapia."  —  Ancient  Breviai'y 
of  Besanqon,  printed  in  1489.  "  Matri  ud  nutriendum  reddit.  Qui  post 
alitur  in  eodem  monasterio.  .  .  ,  Nunc  usque  superest  eamdera  cathedrani 
regens.  .  .  .  Pro  amore  B.  Colunibani  ex  ipsiusliegula  monasterium  viroruin 
construxit." — Jonas,  Vita  S.  Colomh.,  c.  22.  Holstein,  Codex  Regida^-um. 
Compare  Mabillon,  Prcsf.  in  IV.  Scec,  §  125,  and  the  Vies  des  Saints  de 
Franche-Comte,  vol.  i.  p.  186,  and  Appendix,  n.  6,  7,  and  8.  Of  the  ancient 
abbey  of  St.  Paul,  at  Besancon,  there  remain  only  some  fragments  of  the 
church,  which  have  been  transferred  to  the  court  of  the  library.  The  abbey 
of  Jussamoutier  is  now  a  barrack  for  gens-d'armes. 

'"'  See  l^efore,  p.  288.     "Pro  amore  beativiri  Columbani."  —  Jonas,  c.  22 

VOL.  I.  51 


602  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

has  served  as  a  model  to  an  entire  order  of  primitive  cliurchef=i, 
and  tlie  basis  of  an  ingenious  and  new  system,  whicli  charac- 
terizes the  date  and  st>de  of  the  principal  Christian  monu- 
ments between  Jura  and  tlie  Alps.^^^ 

Abbey  of  We  have  said    that  the  father  of  St.  Donatus  had 

B6ze.  g^  brother,   another  lord,  Amalgaire,   whose   duchy 

extended  to  the  gates  of  Besancon.  This  last  had  two  chil- 
dren, who,  like  their  cousins,  are  connected  with  Luxeuil. 
The  son  named  Waldelen,  like  his  uncle,  was  also  intrusted 
to  the  care  of  Columbanus,  and  became  a  monk  at  Luxeuil, 
from  whence  liis  father  took  him  to  put  him  at  the  head  of 
g.j^        the  abbey  of  Beze,  which  he  had  founded   in   honor 

of  God,  St.  Peter,  and  St.  Paul,  between  the  Saone 
and  the  Tille,  near  a  fountain  still  known  and  admired  for  the 
immense  sheet  of  water  which  gushes  from  it,  and  to  the  east 
of  a  forest  called  the  Velvet  Forest,  a  name  which  preserves 
to  our  own  days  a  trace  of  the  impression  produced  by  its 
thick  verdure  upon  the  admiring  popular  mind,  at  a  time  Avhen 
the  common  mind  seems  to  have  been  more  observant  than 
now  of  certain  beauties.  The  new  abbot  carried  the  rule  of 
Columbanus  to  Beze,  and  maintained  it  for  fifty  years  in  that 
sanctuary,  which  was  long  to  hold  its  place  in  the  first  rank 
of  French  monasteries.  When  his  eldest  brother,  who  had 
succeeded  to  the  duchy  of  his  father,  compromised  in  the 
civil  wars  of  the  time  of  Ebro'in^  had   to  flee  into  xlustrasia, 

Waldelen  collected  his  property  and  joined  it  to  that 

of  the  monastery.  He  offered  an  asylum  there  to 
his  sister,  Adalsind,  for  whom  their  father,  Duke  Amalgar,  had 
Breo-iiie  '^^^^  fouoded  an  abbey  at  Bregille,  opposite  Besan- 
noarBe-  ^on  ou  the  right  bank  of  the  Doubs.  But  she  could 
sangon.        ^^^  loug  remain  there  ;  the  annoyances  she  met  with 

from    the    inhabitants  of  the   surrounding   country 

^5fi-       obliged  her  to  leave  a  place  in  which  neither  the 

ancient  authority  of  her  father,  nor  her  character  of  abbess, 

nor  the  proximity  of  an  important  city  governed  by  her  fam- 

'"''  Histoire  de  V Architecture  Sacree  du  iv°  au  x"  Steele  dansJes  Anciens 
Eveches  de  Geneve^  Lausanne  et  Sion,  by  J.  D.  Blavignac,  1853.  Tliis 
church  was  certainly  built  in  the  eighth  century,  when  Pope  Stephen  II. 
consecrated  it  in  753,  aad  comnaanded  the  abbey,  where  he  had  lived  for 
some  time,  to  be  called  the  Roman  Monastery,  playing  upon  tlie  name  which 
it  already  bore  in  honor  of  its  first  founder,  St.  IJomain  of  Condat.  It  be- 
came in  the  tenth  centurj'  a  priory  of  Cluny.  Compare  the  Vies  des  Saints 
de  FrancKe-Gomte,  vol.  i.  p.  598,  vol.  iii.  p.  27,  and  the  cartulary  of  Romain- 
Moutier,  published  by  the  learned  Baron  de  Gingins,  in  vol.  xiv.  of  the  Me- 
moires  de  la  Societe  d' Histoire  de  la  Suisse  Romande. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  603 

ily,  could  protect  hei\  This  forced  exile  is  a  proof,  among 
many  others,  of  the  obstacles  and  hostilities  too  often  en- 
countered by  the  Religious  of  both  sexes,  despite  the  pro- 
tection of  kings  and  nobles,  amid  the  unsubdued  races  who 
had  invaded  the  West.^^^ 

While  the  various  members  of  the  most  powerful   Ermen- 
faniilv  of  the   two   Burgundies  testified  thus  their  ined.at 

-.  c5-..  P/-111  Cusance. 

devotion  to  the  memory  and  institute  oi  Lolumbanus,  -^-- 
the  young  and  noble  Ermeufried  obeyed  the  same  ~^' ' 
impulse  upon  a  more  modest  scale,  amid  the  half-pagan  tribe 
of  the  Varasques,  who,  following  the  Burgonde  invasion  from 
the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  occupied,  a  little  above  Besangon.  a 
district  watered  by  the  Doubs,  where  the  second  abbot  of 
Luxeuii,  Eustace,  had  already  attempted  their  conversion. 
Ermenfried,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Germanic  races, 
had  been  recommended  in  his  youth,  along  with  his  brother, 
to  King  Clotaire  II.,  the  friend  and  protector  of  Columbanus, 
who  had  received  him  into  his  house.  His  noble  bearing, 
his  varied  knowledge,  and  modest  piety,  gained  him  the  favor 
of  this  prince.  Clotaire  had,  besides,  intrusted  his  brother 
with  the  care  of  the  ring  which  was  his  seal-royal,  and  had 
thus  constituted  him  chancellor  of  his  court.  Ermenfried, 
recalled  into  his  own  country  to  receive  the  inheritance  of  a 
wealthy  noble  of  his  family,  had  found,  in  surveying  his  new 
possessions,  a  narrow  little  valley  where  two  clear  streams, 
uniting  at  the  foot  of  a  little  hill,  formed  into  a  tributary  of 
the  Doubs,  called  the  Cusancin,  and  where  there  had  for- 
merly existed,  under  the  name  of  Cusance,  a  monastery  of 
women.  Contemplating  this  site,  he  was  filled  with  a  desire 
to  raise  the  ruins  of  the  abandoned  sanctuary,  and  to  conse- 
crate himself  there  to  the  Lord.  When  he  returned  to  the 
court  of  Clotaire,  the  new  spirit  which  animated  him  soon 
became  apparent.  One  day,  when  he  appeared  before  the 
king  with  his  silken  tunic  in  disorder  and  falling  to  his  feet, 
Clotaire  said  to  him,  "  What  is  the  matter,  Ermanfried  ? 
What  is  this  fashion  of  wearing  thy  tunic?  Wouldbt  thou 
really  become  a  clerk  ?  "  "  Yes,"  answered  the  Varasque,  "  a 
clerk,  and  even  a  monk  ;  and  I  entreat  you  to  grant  me  your 
pc'  mission."  The  king  consented,  and  the  two  brothers  im- 
mediately set  out  for  tSheir  solitude.  In  vain  their  mother 
urged  them  to  marry  and  perpetuate  their  race.  Ermenfried 
went  to  Luxeuii  to  be  trained  for  monastic  life  under  Wal- 

'"*   CIironico}i  Beseunse,  ap.  D'Acheky,  Spicilegium,  vol.  ii.  p.  402. 


604  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

bert,  received  there  the  monastic  frock  and  the  priesthood, 
and  returned  to  Cusance,  where  he  soon  became  the  head  of 
a  community  of  thirty  monks,  which  he  subordinated  com- 
pletely to  Luxeuil,  and  directed  with  gentle  and  active 
authority,  while  his  brother,  with  whom  he  always  lived  in 
the  closest  union,  provided  for  their  temporal  necessities. 
Ermenfried  reserved  the  humbler  labors  for  himself ;  he  spent 
whole  days  in  sifting  the  grain  which  the  others  thrashed'in 
the  barn.  For  he  loved  work  and  workers.  On  Sundays, 
in  celebrating  mass,  he  distributed  to  the  people  the  eulogies 
or  unconsecrated  wafers,  which  then  served  for  consecrated 
He  kisses  bread.  When  he  perceived  the  hard  hands  of  the 
the  hands     ploughmcn,  he  bent  down  to  kiss  with  tender  re- 

of  the  I:         o  ! 

plough-  spect  these  noble  marks  of  the  week's  labor.  I 
'"^"'  have  surveyed  the  annals  of  all  nations,  ancient  and 

modern,  but  I  have  found  nothing  which  has  moved  me  more, 
or  better  explained  the  true  causes  of  the  victory  of  Chris 
tianity  over  the  ancient  world,  than  the  image  of  this  Ger- 
man, this  son  of  the  victors  of  Rome  and  conquerors  of  Gaul, 
become  a  monk,  and  kissing,  before  the  altar  of  Christ,  the 
hard  hand  of  the  Gaulish  husbandmen,  in  that  forgotten  cor- 
ner of  Jura,  without  even  suspecting  that  an  obscure  witness 
took  note  of  it  for  forgetful  posterity.i*^^  • 

^  ,  ,       Before  we  leave  Sequania.  let  us  ascend  into  the 

Colonies  of  r»iT-»  /i  -ii-i  •         c 

Luxeuiiin  couutry  01  the  Kauraques  (tlie  ancient  bishopric  ot 
Kauracia.  g^]g)_  There,  ou  the  banks  of  that  deep  and  nar- 
row gorge,  hollowed  by  the  Doubs  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
Jura,  upon  the  existing  boundary  of  Switzerland  and  Franche- 
Comte,  at  the  spot  where  that  river,  having  run  since  its 
source  from  south  to  north,  makes  a  sudden  turn  towards 
the  west,  before  doubling  back  to  the  south,  and  forms  thus 
a  sort  of  peninsula  still  called  the  close  of  the  Doubs.  we  shall 
find  the  little  town  of  St.  Ursanne.  It  originated  in  the 
choice  which  another  disciple  of  Columbanus  made  of  that 

wild    country   in  order  to  live  there   in   solitude. 

Ursicinus,  which   has    been   transformed  into  Ur- 

106  (4  Dives  valde  ac  potentior  caetoris.  .  .  .  Adulti  traduntur  ad  palatium 
Clotario  regi  servituri.  .  .  .  Qui  tradidit  ei  aiinulum  suum,  factusque  est 
cancellarius  in  toto  palatio.  .  .  .  Sinebat  tunicani  quod  Sericani  vocabant, 
usque  ad  medias  dependere  tibias.  .  .  .  Quid  est  hoc,  Emienfrede?  cur 
tunicam  tuam  fers  taliter?  Numquid  clericus  esse  vis?  .  .  .  Et  clerioum 
me  nionachumque  fieri  opto.  ...  Si  vidisset  aliquem  operatoreni  aut  pau- 
perriinum  crepatis  manibus,  non  ante  eulogias  dabat  quam  .  .  .  manus  ipsas 
oscularetur." — Egilbektus,  Vita  S.  Ermtiif.,  ap.  Bolland,  t.  vii.  Sep- 
tomb.,  p.  120. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  605 

panne,  was  probably  Irish,  since  he  left  Liixeuil  with  Colum- 
banns ;  but,  like  Gall  and  Sigisbert,  he  did  not  follow  him 
into  Ital}' ;  and,  after  having  founded  a  little  Christendom 
upon  the  fertile  shores  of  the  Lake  of  Bienne,  he  perferred 
to  establish  himself  among  the  scarped  rocks  covered  with 
firs  which  overlook  the  upper  course  of  the  Doubs.  Climb- 
ing into  the  most  inaccessible  corners  of  these  wild  gorges, 
in  search  of  their  strayed  cattle,  the  herdsmen  one  day  dis- 
covered him,  and  told,  on  descending,  that  they  had  found 
at  the  top  of  the  mountain  a  wan  and  emaciated  man,  like 
another  St.  John  Baptist,  who  most  surely  lived  in  com- 
munit}"  with  the  bears,  and  was  supported  by  them.  Thence, 
doubtless,  arose  the  name  of  Ursicinus  or  Urson,  which  has 
replaced  this  monk's  Celtic  name.  In  this  instance,  as  in- 
variably through  the  annals  of  monastic  extension,  the  great 
examples  of  mortification  and  spiritual  courage,  which  ex- 
cited the  admiration  and  sympathy  of  some,  raised  the  de- 
rision and  hostility  of  others.  A  rich  inhabitant  of  the 
neighborhood  drew  the  solitary  to  his  house  on  pretence  of 
hearing  him  preach ;  and  having  made  him  drink  wine,  to 
which  he  was  not  accustomed,  the  poor  saint  soon  became 
uncomfortable  and  asked  leave  to  withdraw.  Then  the  per- 
fidious host,  with  all  his  family,  began  to  mock  the  monk 
with  bursts  of  laughter,  calling  him  glutton,  drunkard,  and 
hypocrite,  and  accusing  him  as  such  to  the  surrounding 
population.  Urson  cursed  the  house  of  the  traitor,  and  re- 
turned to  his  solitude.  This  adventure  brought  no  discredit 
upon  him :  far  from  that,  he  had  many  disciples,  and  the  in- 
creasing number  of  those  who  would  live  like  him,  and  with 
him,  obliged  him  to  leave  the  huts  which  he  had  raised  upon 
the  heights,  and  to  build  his  convent  at  the  bottom  of  the 
pass  and  on  the  bank  of  the  river.  It  is  to  be  remarked  that 
he  had  here  a  hospital  for  the  sick  poor,  and  kept  baggage- 
cattle  to  bring  them  from  a  distance  and  through  the  steep 
paths  of  these  mountains.i^'^ 

The  little  monastery  which  our  Irishman  had  founded  was 
taken  up  and  occupied  after  his  death  by  another  colony 

.107  uygiy^  alterum  in  deserto  Joannem.  .  .  .  Traditio  est  ursum  super 
divi  speluncam  radices  et  herbas  attulisse.  .  .  .  Ut  vino,  cui  niinime  assue- 
verat,  victus  ludibrio  exponatur.  .  .  .  Crebro  repetitis  poculis  urget.  .  .  . 
Gulai  et  Bacchi  voraginem  .  .  .  exsibilandum  propinare."  —  Compendium 
Vitce  S.  Ursicini,  ap.  Trouillat,  Monuments  de  I'Ancien  Eveche  de  B&le, 
Porentruy,  1852,  t.  i.  p.  42. 

51* 


60G  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

St. Germain  ^'"0^1  Luxeuil,  led  by  Germain,  a  young  noljle  of 
deGrand-  Treves,  who,  at  seventeen,  in  spite  of  king  and 
■ —  bishop,  had  left  all  to  flee  into  solitude.  He  was 
618-670.  ^^  ^}^^  number  of  those  recruits  whose  coming  to 
enroll  themselves  at  Luxeuil  alarmed  Abbot  Walbert  by  their 
multitude.  The  latter,  recognizing  the  piety  and  ability  of 
the  young  neophyte,  intrusted  to  him  the  direction  of  the 
monks  whom  he  sent  into  a  valley  of  Rauvasia,  of  which  Gon- 
doin,  the  first  known  duke  of  Alsatia,  had  just  made  him  a 
gift.  This  valley,  though  fertile  and  well  watered,  was  al- 
most unapproachable:  Germain,  either  by  a  miracle,  or  by 
labois  in  which  he  himself  took  the  principal  share,  had  to 
open  a  passage  through  the  rocks  which  formed  the  approach 
of  the  defile.  The  valley  took  the  name  of  Moustier-Grand- 
val,  after  the  monastery,  which  he  long  ruled,  in  conjunction 
with  that  of  St.  Ursanne.  The  abbot  of  Luxeuil,  with  the 
consent  of  his  brethren,  had  expressly  freed  the  monks 
whom  he  intended,  under  the  authority  of  Germain,  to  peo- 
ple the  new  sanctuary,  from  all  obedience  to  himself  In  the 
surrounding  countr}^,  the  benevolent  stranger,  who  died  a 
victim  to  his  zeal  for  his  neighbor,  was  everywhere  beloved. 
A  new  duke  of  Alsatia,  Adalric,  set  himself  to  oppress  the 
population,  and  to  trouble  the  monks  of  Grand val  in  every 
possible  way,  treating  them  as  rebels  to  the  authority  of  his 
predecessor  and  to  his  own.  He  approached  the  monastery 
at  the  head  of  a  band  of  Alamans,  who  were  as  much  robbers 
as  soldiers.  Germain,  accompanied  by  the  librarian  of  the 
community,  went  to  meet  the  enemy.  At  the  sight  of  the 
burning  houses,  and  of  his  poor  neighbors  pursued  and 
slaughtered  by  the  soldiers,  he  burst  forth  into  tears  and 
reproaches.  "  Enemy  of  God  and  truth,"  he  said  to  the  duke, 
"  is  it  thus  that  you  treat  a  Christian  country?  and  do  you 
not  fear  to  ruin  this  monastery  which  I  have  myself  built  ?  " 
The  duke  listened  without  anger,  and  promised  him  peace. 
But  as  the  abbot  returned  to  Grandval,  he  met  some  soldiers 
upon  his  way  to  whom  he  addressed  similar  remonstrances  : 
"  Dear  sons,  do  not  commit  so  many  crimes  against  the  peo- 
ple of  God  !  "  Instead  of  appeasing,  his  words  exasperated 
them  ;  they  divested  him  of  his  robes,  and  slew  him  as  well 
as  his  companion.i*^^ 

los  i(  jjj.  genere  senatorum  natus.  .  .  .  Locum  uberrimum,  infra  saxorum 
Concava.  ,  .  .  Cernens  abbas  quod  difflcilis  esset  introitus  eorura,  coepit  sax- 
orum dura  manibus  quatere,  et  valv®  utraque  parte  vallis  patuerunt  et  sunt 
intrantibu3  patefactse  usque  in  hodiernum  diem.  .  .  .  Inimice  Pei  et  verita- 


bT.   COLUMBANUS.  6.07 

The  body  of  this  martyr  of  justice  and  charity  was  carried 
to  the  church  which  lie  had  built  at  St.  Ursanne.  In  the  in- 
terval between  the  death  of  the  founder  of  the  abbey,  and 
that  of  the  first  martyr  of  the  illustrious  line  of  Colurabanus, 
this  ren^.ote  monastery  had  already  felt  the  influence  of  a 
third  saint,  who,  without  passing  tlirough  Luxeuil,  had 
nevertheless  yielded  to  the  power  of  Columbanus's  genius 
and  rule. 

Vandregisil  ^vas  born  near  Verdun,  of  noble  and  The  count 
rich  parents,  allied  to  the  two  Mayors  of  the  Palace,  vandre- 
Erchinoald  and  Pepin  of  Landen,  who  governed  '^'-^ — 
Neustria  and  Austrasia  under  the  authority  of  King  '^oo  C70. 
Dagobert  1.,  son  and  successor  of  that  Clotaire  II.  who  had 
been  always  so  favorable  to  Colurabanus  and  his  disciples. 
This  relationship  had  procured  the  young  noble  a  favorable 
position  in  the  court  of  the  king,  to  whom  he  had  been  rec- 
ommended in  his  youth.  He  became  Count  of  the  Palace, 
that  is  to  say,  judge  of  the  causes  referred  to  the  king,  and 
collector  of  the  returns  of  the  royal  revenue.  But  power 
and  ambition  held  no  place  in  a  heart  which  had  already  felt 
the  contagion  of  the  many  great  examples  furnished  by  the 
Frank  nobility.  Refusing  a  marriage  which  his  parents  had 
arranged,  he  w^eut  to  take  refuge  with  a  solitary  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Meuse.  Now  the  Merovingian  kings  had  then 
interdicted  the  Frank  nobles  from  taking  the  clerical  or 
monastic  habit  without  their  permission,  an  interdict  founded 
upon  the  military  service  due  to  the  prince,  which  was  the 
soul  of  the  social  organization  of  the  Germanic  races.  Dago- 
bert therefore  saw  with  great  displeasure  that  a  Frank, 
brought  up  in  the  royal  court,  and  invested  with  a  public 
charge,  had  thus  fled,  without  the  consent  of  his  sovereign, 
from  the  duties  of  his  rank.  He  ordered  him  to  return.  As 
Vandregisil  very  reluctantly  approached  the  palace,  he  saw 
a  poor  man  who  had  been  throwm  from  his  cart  into  the  mud 
before  the  king's  gates.  The  passers-by  took  no  notice  of 
him,  and  several  even  trampled  on  his  body.  The  count  of 
the  palace  immediately  alighted  from  his  horse,  extended  his 
hand  to  the  poor  driver,  and  the  two  together  raised  up  the 
cart.     Afterwards  he  went  to  Dagobert,  amid  the  derisive 

tis,  ingressus  es  super  homines  Christianos !  .  .  .  Per  totam  valleni  cernens 
tanquam  a  luporura  morsibus  vicinos  laniari  et  domus  eoniin  ineendio  con- 
creniari,  flevit  diutissime.  .  .  .  Nolite,  filii  mei,  tantum  nefas  perpetrare  in 
populo  Dei."  —  BoBOLENi,  Vita  S.  Germani,  ap.  Tkouillat,  Monuments  de 
VEveclie  de  Bale,  t.  i.  p.  49-53,  who  has  given  a  much  more  complete  version 
of  it  than  that  of  the  Acta  of  Mabillon. 


608  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

shouts  of  the  spectators,  with  his  dress  stained  with  mud  ; 
but  it  appeared  resplendent  with  the  light  of  charity  in  the 
eyes  of  the  king,  who,  touched  by  his  humble  selfdevotion, 
permitted  him  to  follow  his  vocation,  and  forbade  any  one  to 
interfere  with  him.^^^ 

When  he  was  freed  from  this  anxiety,  Vandregisil  went  to 
the  tomb  of  St.  Ursanne,  which  was  situated  on  an  estate 
belonging  to  his  house,  with  which  he  enriched  the  monas- 
tery. He  applied  himself  there  by  excessive  austerities  to 
the  subdual  of  his  flesh  ;  struggling,  for  example,  against  the 
temptations  of  his  youth,  by  plunging  during  the  winter  into 
the  snow,  or  the  frozen  waters  of  the  Doubs,  and  remaining 
there  whilst  he  sang  the  psalms.^^^  Here  also  he  found  the 
trace  of  Columbanus's  example  and  instructions,  which  led 
him  from  the  side  of  Jura  across  the  Alps  to  Bobbio,  where 
he  admired  the  fervor  of  the  disciples  whom  the  great  Irish 
missionary  had  left  there.  It  was  there,  doubtless,  tlmt  he 
conceived  so  great  an  admiration  for  the  memory  and  obser- 
vances of  Columbanus,  that  he  determined  on  going  to  Ire- 
land to  seek  in  the  country  of  the  founder  of  Luxeuil  and 
Bobbio,  the  secrets  of  penitential  life  and  the  narrow  way. 
But  God,  cays  one  of  his  biographers,  reserved  him  for  the 
Gauls.  After  another  long  sojourn  in  Romain-Moutier,  which 
had  just  been  restored  under  the  influence  of  the  spirit  of 
Columbanus,  he  went  to  Rouen,  where  Ouen,  a  holy  and 
celebrated  bishop,  who  had  known  him  at  the  court  of  Dago- 
bert,  and  whose  youth  had  also  felt  the  influence,  so  fertile 
even  after  his  death,  of  Columbanus,  then  presided.  The 
metropolitan  of  Rouen  would  not  permit  a  man  distinguished 
at  once  by  his  tried  virtue  and  illustrious  birth,  to  steal  out 
of  sight.  It  is  thus  that  the  biographer  of  St.  Germain  de- 
scribes to  us  how  the  abbot  of  Luxeuil  had  long  sought  a 
monk  who  was  at  once  learned,  hoi}',  and  of  noble  extraction, 

109  <«  Comes  constituitur  palatii.  .  .  .  Ardore  parentum  honoribus  pluri- 
mis  valde  subliniatus.  .  .  .  Eex  .  .  .  pro  eo  quod  ipsum  hominem  Dei  in 
juventute  in  suo  ministerio  habuisset,  volebat  eum  inquietare  pro  eo  quou 
sine  sua  jussione  se  tonsorasset.  .  .  .  Quidam  pauperculus  qui  veliiculuni 
ante  portam  ipsius  regis  demerserat.  .  .  .  De  equo  quem  scdebat  cum  velo- 
citate  descendons,  et  pauperi  manura  porrexit,  et  ipsum  plaustrura  simul  de 
loco  levaverunt.  Prospicientes  vero  inulti  qualiter  se  inquinaverat  de  luto 
deridebant.  .  .  .  Factus  plus  candens  quani  antea  fuerat;  pervenit  in  pala- 
tium  regis  et  stabat  ante  eum  et  satellites  ejus  quasi  agnus  in  medio  luporum." 
—  Acta  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  torn.  ii.  pp.  502-514. 

'^^  "  Si  quando  in  ipsa  visione  noeiurna  per  titillationem  carnis  illusionem 
habuisset  .  .  .  mergebat  se  in  tiuvium.  et  cum  esset  hyemis  tempus  in  me- 
d'o  glacierura  psalniodiam  decautabat."  —  Hid  ,  p.  506. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  609 

to  preside  over  the  colony  of  Grandval.m  For  it  is  evident 
that  birth  was  a  quality  infinitely  vahiable  to  the  founders 
of  monastic  institutions  in  these  days,  doubtless  because  it 
gave  the  heads  of  the  community  the  prestige  necessary  to 
hold  out,  even  in  material  matters,  against  the  usurpation 
and  violence  of  the  nobles  and  great  men  whose  possessions 
surrounded  the  new  monasteries.  Bishop  Ouen,  tlierefore, 
bestowed  holy  orders  upon  his  old  friend  and  companion,  but 
without  being  able  to  prevent  him  from  again  seeking  monas- 
tic life.  He  succeeded  only  in  estabUshing  Vandregisil  in 
his  own  diocese,  thanks  to  the  munificence  of  the  minister 
Erchinoald,  who  gave  up  a  great  uncultivated  estate  not  far 
from  the  Seine  to  his  kinsman,  where  the  remains  of  an 
ancient  cit}^,  destroyed  in  the  Frank  invasion,  were  still  to 
be  seen  under  the  briers  and  thorns. 

But  the  time  of  ruins  was  past ;  the  hour  of  re-   „  ,    . 

.  J^^  "  Colonies  of 

vivai  and  reconstruction  had  come.     In  that  desert  Luxeaii 
place,    Vandregisil    built  the   abbey   of  Fontenelle,   sSue.  ** 
which  was   destined  to   occupy,   under    its  proper   i.^onteiieiie 
name  of  St.  Vandrille,  so  important  a  place  in  the        -. — 
ecclesiastical    history    of    France    and    Normandy. 
The  holy  queen  Bathilde,  her  son,  King  Clovis  II.,  and  juany 
noble  Neustrians,  added  rich  donations  to  that  of  Erchinoald, 
whilst  a  great  number  of  others  came  to  share  cenobitical 
Hfe   under  the  authority  of  Vandregisil.     He  had  to  build 
four  churches,  amid  their  cells,  to  make  room  for  their  devo- 
tions.    He  was  particularly  zealous  in  imposing  upon  them, 
along  with  the  exercise  of  manual  labor,  the  absolute  renun- 
ciation of  all  individual  property,  which  was  the  thing  of  all 
otiiers  most  likely  to  clash  with  the  inclinations  of  the  sons 
of  soldiers  and  rich  men.     And,  says  the  hagiographer,  it 
was  admirable  to  see  him  instruct  those  who  heretofore  had 
taken  away  the  possessions  of  others,  in  the  art  of  sacrificing 
their  own.     Aided  by  their  labors,  he  planted  on  a  neighbor- 
ing slope  of  good  exposure  the  first  vineyard  which   Nor- 
mandy had  known.1^2 

'"  "  Coepit  Waldebertus  intra  semetipsum  tacitus  cogitare  si  possit  reperira 
de  suis  fratribus,  ex  genere  nobili  .  .  .  qui  ipsos  monachos  secundum  teno- 
reni  regulse  gubernare  et  reg;Te  debeixt."  —  Trouillat,  op.  cId.  p.  52. 

"^  "  Ansbertus  .  .  .  liortatu  viri  Dei  B.  Wandregi^ili  vineam  plantare  et 
excolere  coepit."  —  Vita  S.  Ansberti,  c.  i.  We  sbail  afterwards  speak  of  this 
Ansbert,  also  a  monk  at  Fontenelle,  after  having  been  one  of  the  principal 
officials  at  the  court  of  Dagobert.  Wandregisil  built  a  fifth  church  at  the 
top  of  this  vineyard,  dedicated  to  St.  Saturnin,  which  was  rebuilt  about  lOoO, 
and  is  considered  the  most  ancient  edifice  in  the  diocese  of  Kouen,  and  oua 
of  the  most  curious  in  Normandy. 


610  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

Opposition        ^^^  *^^^  ^^^  ^^^  always  without  danger ;    one 
of  the  royal   day  when  he  was   laboring-   with   his  pious  legion, 

the  keeper  of  the  royal  forest,  a  portion  of  which 
had  been  given  to  Vandregisil,  furious  to  see  his  charge  thus 
lessened,  approached  the  abbot  to  strike  him  with  his  lance  ; 
but,  as  happened  so  often,  just  as  he  was  about  to  strike,  his 
arm  became  paralyzed,  the  weapon  fell  from  his  hands,  and 
he  remained  as  if  possessed,  till  the  prayer  of  the  saint  whom 
he  would  have  slain  restored  his  facalties.i^^  fhe  royal  for- 
esters were  naturally  disposed  to  appropriate  into  personal 
estates  the  forests  committed  to  their  care,  and  which  the 
kings  only  used  occasionally  for  hunting.  This  was  the 
cause  of  their  animosity,  which  we  shall  often  have  to  refei 
to,  against  the  strangers  endowed  with  such  gifts  who  came 
to  establish  themselves  there. 

Vandregisil,  however,  did  not  confine  his  activity  to  the 
foundation  and  government  of  his  abbey.     Fontenelle  was 

situated  in  the  country  of  Caux,  that  is,  the  land  oi 

l.'OD  version.  *^ 

of  the  land  the  Calctes,  who  had  been  distinguished  by  the  en- 
'^"^'  ergy  of  their  resistance  to  Csesar,  and  who  had  fig- 
ured among  the  other  tribes  of  Belgian  Gaul  in  the  last  strug- 
gle against  the  pro-consul,  even  after  the  fall  of  Alise  and 
the  heroic  Vercingetorix.^^*  The  land  of  Caux  was  then 
Christian  only  in  name  ;  the  inhabitants  had  fallen  back  into 
complete  and  brutal  barbarism.  The  abbot  of  Fontenelle 
went  throughout  the  whole  countiy,  preached  the  Gospel 
everywhere,  procured  the  destruction  of  the  idols  whom  the 
peasants  persisted  in  worshipping,  and  transformed  the  land 
to  such  an  extent  that  the  countiy  people  never  met  a  priest 
or  monk  without  throwing  themselves  at  his  feet  as  before 
an  image  of  Christ.i^^ 

Vandregisil,  when  he  died,  left  three  hundred  monks  in 
his  monastery,  and  a  memory  so  popular  that,  four  centuries 

"^  The  chapel  of  Notre  Dame  de  Caillouville,  built  upon  the  spot  where 
this  incident  liappened,  was  still  existing  in  the  time  of  Mabillon.  It  was  de- 
molislied  after  tlie  Revolution  by  a  man  named  Lherondel.  A  fountain,  vis- 
ited every  year  by  many  pilgrims,  is  still  to  be  seen  tliere.  At  the  bottom  of 
the  basin,  cut  in  the  stone,  is  a  rude  representation  of  St.  Radegund. 

''*  De  Bella  Gallico,  book  viii.  c.  7.     Orosius,  lib.  vi.  c.  7  and  11. 

115  41  iiiuc  nobilium  liberi  undique  concurrere  .  .  .  ita  ut  nobilium  multi- 
tudo  virorum  communia  cum  omnibus  possideret  omnia.  ...  Si  quispiatu 
proprium  aliquid  usurpare  tentaret  ...  a  cseterorum  remotus  concilio  .  .  . 
plectebatur.  .  .  .  Sed  et  omnes  Caletorum  populi  ita  brutis  ac  belluis  similea 
ante  adventum  illiusin  hac  regione  fuerant,  ut  prseter  Ciu'istianse  fidei  nomen 
virtus  religionis  pene  abolita  in  illis  locis  fuerat.  .  .  .  Ut  qui  antea  arripie* 
bant  aliena  postea  largirentur  propria."  —  Vita  Secunda,  c.  15-22. 


010-085. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  611 

after  his  death,  his  name  was  still  celebrated  by  a  grateful 
posterity  in  rhymes  translated  from  the  Latin  into  the  vulgar 
tongue.ii^  In  one  of  the  chapels  of  that  abbey  which  at- 
tracted and  charmed  all  travellers  on  the  Seine  from  Rouen 
to  the  sea,  rude  seats  were  shown  which  had  been  used  by 
the  founder  and  his  two  most  intimate  friends,  the  archbishop 
Ouen,  and  Philibert,  the  founder  of  Jumieges,  when  they 
came  to  Fontenelle,  where  these  three  converted  nobles  met 
in  long  and  pleasant  conferences,  in  which  their  expectations 
of  heavenly  joy,  and  terrors  of  divine  judgment,  were  mingled 
with  a  noble  solicitude  lor  the  triumph  of  justice  and  peace 
in  the  country  of  the  Franks.^^' 

Nothing,  or  almost  nothing,  remains  of  the  archi- 

-Si   Phili- 

tectural  sploidors  of  St.  Vandrille  ;  but  the  ruined  beW,  fomi- 
towersof  Jumieges  still  testify  to  the  few  travellers  jum°iges. 
upon  the  Seine  the  magnificence  of  another  abbey, 
still  more  celebrated,  which  was  long  the  noblest 
ornament  of  that  portion  of  Neustria  to  which  the  Normans 
have  given  their  name,  a-nd  which,  like  Fontenelle,  is  con- 
nected by  means  of  its  founder,  St.  Philibert,  with  the  work 
and  lineage  of  Columbanus.  The  lives  of  these  two  founders 
show  many  analogies.     Like  Wandregisil,  the  young  Phili- 

116  (I  jjjg  jUg  ggj  Tetbaldus  Vernonensis,  qui  multorum  gesta  sanctorum, 
sed  et  S.  Wandregisili  a  sua  latinitate  transtulit  atquo  in  comnmnem  linguae 
usum  satis  facunde  retulit,  ac  sic  ad  quamdam  tinnuli  riiythnii  similitudinera 
urbanas  ex  illis  cantilenas  edidit."  —  Act.  SS.  0.  S.  B.,  siBC.  iii.  p.  1,  p.  361. 
In  Vita  S.  Vulfram.  The  abbey  of  Fontenelle,  near  Caudebec,  took,  like 
many  others,  the  name  of  its  founder,  and  was  distinguished,  during  the 
eighth  century,  by  a  long  line  of  saints.  Up  to  1790  it  formed,  witli  Jumi- 
eges, one  of  the  finest  ornaments  of  the  banks  of  the  Seine.  Now  nothing 
remains  of  the  four  churches  built  by  VandregJsil,  the  principal  of  which,  the 
abbey  church,  was  magnificently  rebuilt  in  the  thirteenth  century.  In  1828 
their  ruins  were  siill  beautiful  and  admired  :  since  then  the  owner.  M.  Cyprien 
Lenoir,  has  destroyed  them  by  sapping;  the  stones  of  the  muUions  and  pillars 
have  been  used  to  pave  the  neighboring  roads.  An  Englishman,  more  intel- 
ligent than  tlie  barbarous  successors  of  the  contemporaries  of  Dagobert,  bought 
considerable  fragments  of  these  precious  ruins,  and  conveyed  them  across  the 
Channel  to  set  them  up  in  his  park.  The  monastery,  rebuilt  and  reformed 
under  Louis  XIV.,  by  the  congregation  of  St.  Maur,  is  still  in  existence, 
transformed  into  a  spinning-mill.  The  cloister,  a  monument  of  the  fourteenth 
and  sixteenth  century,  is  admin'd.  See  the  Essai  sur  St.  Vandrille,  by  M. 
Langlois,  and  the  learned  and  useful  work,  entitled  Les  Eglises  de  VArron- 
dissement  d'  Yvetot,  by  M.  I'Abbe  Cochet,  1854,  t.  i.  p.  49-73. 

117  K  Monstrabantur  .  .  .  grabata  et  sedes  ubi  .  .  .  considere  soliti  essent 
.  .  .  quorum  oratio  non  alia  erat  quam  .  .  .  de  paradisi  deliciis  et  gehennae 
suppliciis  .  .  .  de  justitia  quoque  .  .  .  ac  patrice  salute  .  .  .  et  pace  omni- 
bus praedicanda." —  Vita,  c.  17.  Another  proof  of  the  ignorance  of  those 
niodern  authors  who  have  assumed  the  word  and  idea  of  country  to  be  un 
known  in  the  middle  ages. 


612  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

bert  was  recommended  b}"  bis  father  to  King  Dagobert,  and 
at  twenty  left  the  court  and  military  life  for  the  cloister. 
Like  him,  and  still  more  directly  than  he,  he  was  imbued 
with  the  spirit  of  Columbanus,  having  been  a  monk  and  abbot 
in  the  monastery  of  Bebais,  wiiich  had  its  immediate  origin 
from  Luxeuil,  before  he  went  on  pilgrimage  to  Luxeuil  itself, 
to  Bobbio,  and  the  other  communities  which  followed  the 
Irish  rule.  He  also  had  ties  of  friendship  from  his  youth 
with  St.  Ouen,  the  powerful  archbishop  of  Rouen,  and  it  was 
In  the  same  diocese  that  he  finally  established  himself,  to 
build  the  great  abbey  which,  like  Fontenelle,  was  endowed 
by  the  gifts  of  Clovis  II.  and  the  holy  queen  Bathilde. 

Philibert  often  visited  his  neighbor  Wandregisil ;  he  imi- 
tated him  in  working  with  his  monks  at  the  clearing  of  the 
conceded  lands,  which  became  fields  and  meadows  of  wonder- 
ful fertilit3%  and  like  him  he  had  to  brave  the  animosity  of 
the  royal  foresters,  who  stole  his  work-horses.  Like  Fonte- 
nelle, Jumi(3ges  was  built  upon  the  site  of  an  ancient  Gallo- 
Roman  castle,  which  was  thus  replaced  by  what  contempo- 
raries called  "  the  noble  castle  of  God."  But  situated  upon 
the  same  banks  of  the  Seine,  and  on  a  peninsula  formed  by 
the  winding  of  the  river,  the  abbey  of  Philibert  was  more  ac- 
cessible by  water,  and  soon  became  a  great  centre 
oi^juuH-^^^  of  commerce.  British  and  Irish  sailors  brought  ma- 
ftfcom-°'^°*^  terials  for  clothing  and  shoes  to  the  Religious  there 
men^^and  in  exchange  for  their  corn  and  cattle.  Philibert 
required  that,  in  all  these  barters  with  neighbors  or 
strangers,  the  bargain  should  be  more  profitable  to  the  pur- 
chasers than  if  they  were  dealing  with  laymen.  The  monks 
had  great  success  in  the  fishing  of  some  species  of  porpoise 
(cetacea)  which  ascended  the  Seine,  and  which  produced  oil 
to  lighten  their  vigils.  They  also  fitted  out  vessels  in  which 
they  sailed  to  great  distances  to  redeem  slaves  and  captives. 

Doubtless  a  portion  of  these  captives  contributed  to  in- 
crease the  number  of  the  monks  of  Jumieges,  which  rose  to 
nine  hundred,  without  reckoning  the  fifteen  hundred  ser- 
vants who  filled  the  office  of  lay-brothers.  They  were  under 
a  rule  composed  by  Philibert  alter  attentive  observation  of 
numerous  monasteries  of  France,  Italy,  and  Burgundy,  which 
he  had  visited  for  that  end.  Tiiis  was  adopted  by  most  of 
t!ie  communities  whicli  were  tlien  formed  in  Neustria  in  imi- 
tation of  his,  and  of  which  Jumieges  became  the  centre 
where  abbots  and  monks  vied  in  seeking  education  or  re- 
vivul.     It  combined   the  instructions  of  the  fathers  of  the 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  613 

desert,  such  as  St.  Basil  and  St.  Macarius,  with  the  pieceptti' 
«)t'  the  two  great  monastic  patriarchs  of  the  West,  Benedict 
and  Columbanus.  But  the  influence  of  Columbanus  naturally 
predominated,  in  consequence  of  tlie  early  monastic  educa- 
tion of  Philibert,  and  liis  long  residence  at  Luxeuil  and  Bob- 
bio.  In  the  great  church  which  he  built  for  his  abbey,  the 
magnificence  of  which,  attested  by  a  contemporary  narrative, 
amazes  us,  he  raised  an  altar  in  honor  of  Columbanus,  and  of 
him  alone  among  all  the  saints  whose  rules  he  had  studied 
and  practised. ^^^ 

Philibert  survived  his  friend,  neighbor,  and  emulator, 
Wandregisil,  nearly  twenty  years.  He  was  succeeded  by 
A'ichadre,  a  noble  of  Poitou,  to  whom  belongs  a  legend  writ- 
ten two  centuries  later,  but  which  must  be  repeated  here  as 
a  proof  of  the  great  numbers  and  angelical  piety  of  the 
monks  of  the  great  Neustrian  abbe3\  According  to  this  tale, 
A'ichadre,  who  governed  the  nine  hundred  monks  of  whom 
we  have  before  spoken,  feeling  himself  on  the  eve  ocHthof 
of  death,  and  fearing  that  after  his  death  his  monks  eie^ctat 
might  fall  into  the  snares  of  sin,  prajed  the  Lord  to  Jum'egea. 
provide  against  it.  The  following  night  he  saw  an  angel 
going  round  the  dormitory  of  the  Religious:  this  angel 
touched  four  hundred  and  fifty  of  them  with  the  rod  lie  held, 
and  promised  the  abbot  that  in  four  days  they  should  leave 
this  life,  and  that  when  his  turn  was  come,  they  should  all 
come  to  meet  him  in  heaven.  The  abbot,  having  acquainted 
his  brethren,  prepared  them  for  this  happy  journey.  They 
took  the  viaticum  together,  and  afterwards  held  a  chapter 
■with  those  of  the  community  whom  the  angel  had  not  marked. 
Each  of  the  elect  placed  himself  between  two  of  these  last, 
and  all  together  chanted  songs  of  triumph.  The  faces  of  those 
who  were  to  die   soon  began   to   shine,  and,  without  giving 

"^  Vita  S.  Wandregisili,  c.  17;  Vita  S.  Philiberti,  c.  1,  5,  6,  7,  8,  U,  15, 
20,  32.  "Cum  pro  fratrum  conipenfliis  mandaret  exerceri  negotia,  aniplius 
dare  jubebat  quam  dari  a  sascularilms  consuetudo  poscebat.  Et  propter  hoc 
gaudente  vicino  populo  de  labore  justo  sanctum  exuberabat  commercium."  — 
c.  21.  "  Intrans  .  .  .  reliqua  coenobia  sub  norma  S.  Columbani  degentia, 
atque  omnia  monasteria  .  .  .  ut  prudentissima  apis  quidquid  melioribus 
florere  vidit  studiis,  lioc  suis  traxit  exeniplis.  Basilii  saucta  charismata, 
Macarii  regulam,  Benedicti  decreta,  Columbani  instituta  sanctissima  lectione 
frequentabat  assidua.  .  .  .  Multa  monasteria  per  ejus  exemplum  sunt  con- 
stituta  in  Neustria.  Confluebant  ad  eum  sacerdotes  Dei  .  .  .  et  de  ejus 
Regula  sua  ornabant  coenobia."  —  C.  5,  20.  Compare  Vit.  S.  Aichadri,  c.  21. 
Philibert  founded,  besides  Jumieges,  the  abbey  of  Noirmoutier,  in  an  islami 
on  the  coast  of  Poitou,  and  that  of  Montivillers,  for  women,  in  the  ountry  of 
Caux. 

VOL.  I.  52 


614  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

tlie  least  sign  of  pain,  the  four  hundred  and  fifty  passed  from 
this  Hfe  to  the  other:  the  first  hundred  at  the  hour  of  tierce, 
the  second  at  sexte,  the  third  at  none,  the  fourth  at  vespers, 
and  the  last  at  compline.  Their  obsequies  were  celebrated 
for  eight  days  ;  and  those  who  survived  thera  wept  that  they 
were  not  judged  worthy  to  folio w.ii^  The  mind  of  the  ages 
of  faith  was  so  formed  that  such  narratives  increased  the 
number  of  religious  vocations,  and  contributed  to  root  the 
great  mona  stic  foundations  deeply  in  the  heart  of  the  nations. 
St  ouen  Bishop  Oucu,  whose  influence  and  help  had   en- 

and  his  dowcd  the  dioccse  of  Rouen  with  the  two  powerful 
abbeys  of  Fontenelle  and  Jumieges,  was  connected 
with  Columbanus  by  a  recollection  of  his  earliest  years.  The 
great  Irish  monk  was  everywhere  remarked  by  his  love  for 
children,  and  the  paternal  kindness  he  showed  them.  Dur- 
ing his  exile  and  journey  from  the  court  of  the  king  of  Neus- 
tria  to  that  of  Austrasia,  he  paused  in  a  chateau  situated 
upon  the  Marne,  which  belonged  to  a  E-rank  noble,i20  ^]^q 
father  of  three  sons  named  Adon,  Radon,  and  Dadon,  two  of 
whom  were  still  unrler  age.  Their  mother  led  them  to  the 
holy  exile  that  he  might  bless  them;  this  benediction  brought 
thera  happiness  and  governed  their  life.  The  whole  three 
were,  in  the  first  place,  like  all  the  young  Frank  nobility, 
sent  to  the  court  of  the  king  Clotaire  II.,  and  to  that  of  his  son 
Dagobert,  who  for  some  time  reigned  alone  over  the  three 
Frank  kingdoms.  The  eldest  of  the  three  brothers,  Adon, 
was  the  first  to  break  with  the  grandeurs  and  pleasures  of 
secular  life  ;  he  founded  upon  the  soil  of  his  own  patrimony 
and  upon  a  height  which  overlooked  the  Marne,  the  monas- 
Foundation  tcry  of  Jouarrc,  which  he  put  under  the  rule  of  Col- 
ofjouairc.    umbanus,  and  where    he  himself  became  a  monk. 

"*  "  Occ'urrent  tibi  qui  prsecesserunt  fratres,  cum  psalniis  suscipientes  te. 
.  .  .  Quarto  igitur  die,  post  inissam,  absoluti  omnes  communicabant,  ct  oseu- 
lantes  se  in  pace,  ibant  cum  patre  ad  domum  capituli :  et  praeposuit  sinjrulis 
custodes  psallentcs.  Et  respleiidebant  facies  nioriontium,  quasi  resurgenti- 
um.  Quidam  moriebantur  ad  tcrtiam  .  .  .  et  reliqui  circa  completorium.  qui 
onines  erant  Christo  incorporati.  .  .  .  Remanentes  etiam  flebant  quia  re- 
linquebantur  :  fuit  tanien  luctus  lajtificans  propter  spem  glorise."  —  Act.  SS. 
BoLLAND.,  t.  v.^  Septembr.,  p.  101.  •'  Ccepit  jam  beata  plebs  tanquam  in 
hora  diei  tertia  ad  finem  properare  dispositum,  nullus  parcens  alteri.  sed  sicut 
senex  ita  et  niediocris,  et  ut  juvenis  ita  et  puerulus.  .  .  .  Occubuit  autem 
medietas  bujus  sanctae  faiuiliae."  —  Mabillon,  Acta  SS.  0.  B.,  saec.  ii.  t.  ii. 
p.  930.  According  to  anotlier  version,  tbe  445  monks  designated  died  in  three 
days.  Tliis  legend  recalls  tbat  of  St.  Gwennole,  founder  of  the  abbey  of 
Landevenec,  in  Brittany,  which  has  been  versitied  by  a  Breton  poet  of  ouf 
days,  M.  Briseux,  Revue  des  Deux  Moiides,  15  Octobre  1857,  p.  886. 

""  He  was  named  Autharis,  and  his  castle,  Eussy. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  615 

Almost  iramodiately  after  there  was  formed  by  the  side  of 
this  first  foundation  another  community  of  virgins,  destined 
to  become  much  more  ilhistrious,  and  associated,  a  thousand 
years  later,  with  the  immortal  memory  of  Bossuet. 

Radon,  the  second  of  the  brothers,  who  ■  had  become  the 
treasurer  of  Dagobert;  imitated  the  elder,  and  consecrated 
his  portion  of  the  paternal  inheritance  to  the  foundation  of 
another  monastery,  also  upon  the  Marne,  and  which  was 
called  after  himself  Reuil  (liadolium).  There  now  remained 
only  the  third,  Dadon,  who  afterwards  took  the  name  of  Ouen 
(Audoenus),  and  who,  having  become  the  dearest  among 
all  the  leudes  of  Dagobert  and  his  principal  confidant,  re- 
ceived from  him  the  office  of  referendary,  or  keeper  of  the 
seal,  by  which,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  Frank  kings, 
all  the  edicts  and  acts  of  public  authority  were  sealed.  He, 
notwithstanding,  followed  the  example  of  his  brothers,  and 
the  inspiration  which  the  blessing  of  Columbanus  had  left  in 
their  young  hearts.^^^  He  sought  among  the  forests  "which 
then  covered  La  Brie  a  suitable  site  for  the  foundation  which 
he  desired  to  form  and  endow.  He  found  it  at  last  near  a 
torrent  called  Rebais,  a  little  to  the  south  of  the  positions 
chosen  by  his  brothers  ;  it  was  a  glade  which  was  revealed 
to  him  for  three  successive  nights  by  a  resplendent  cloud  in 
the  form  of  a  cross.  He  built  a  monastery  there  And  of 
which  has  retained  the  name  of  the  torrent,  although  ^^^^»- 
Ouen  had  at  first  given  it  that  of  Jerusalem,  as  a  6.28-638. 
symbol  of  the  fraternal  peace  and  contemplative  life  which 
he  had  intended  should  reign  there.^^^  Ho  also  desired,  like 
his  brothers,  to  end  his  life  in  that  retreat;   but  neither  the 

'*'  Jonas,  Vita  S.  Columbani,  c.  50.  "  Viri  inclyti,  optimates  aulas."  — 
S.  AuDOEN,  Vita  S.  Eligii,  i.  c.  8.  "  Filii  illustris  viri  Autharii,  ex  prjeclara 
Francorum  progenia.  ...  In  proprio  solo.  ...  In  patrimonio  proprio.  .  .  . 
In  quo  etiam  raonastica  secundum  B.  Columbani  Instituta  una  cum  caterva 
.  .  .  niilitavit.  Gestans  ejus  annulum  quo  signabantur  publice  totius  regni 
potiora  signa  vel  edicta." —  Vita  S.  Agili,  c.  14. 

122  t(  Desiderans  illic  haberi  collegium  pacis  et  unaniniae  fraternitatis  con- 
teniplationem.  .  .  .  Cum  Rex  et  cuncti  proceres  Francorum  illi  nollent  ad- 
quiescere."  —  Vita  S.  Agili,  c.  18,  19.  Any  ancient  map  of  Champagne 
will  show  that  the  three  monasteries  of  Jouarre,  Reuil  (reduced  to  the  rank 
of  a  priory  under  Cluny),  and  Rebais,  formed  a  sort  of  triangle  between  the 
Marne  and  the  Morin.  M.  de  Caumont  has  recently  found  in  the  subterra- 
nean church  of  Jouarre,  which  still  exists,  the  inscription  already  published  by 
Mabillon  in  honor  of  the  first  abbess  of  that  celebrated  community  :  '•  Hie 
membra  post  ultima  teguntur  |  fata  sepulcro  beatae  |  Theodiecheldis  inteme- 
ratffl  virginis  genere  nobilis  meritis  fulgens  |  strenua  moribus  flagrans  in  dog- 
mate  almo  I  Cenobii  hujus  mater  sacratas  Ueo  virgines  |  sumentes  oleum  cum 
lanipadibus  prudentes  invitat  |  sponso  filias  occurrere  X".  Exultat  Paradisi 
in  gloria  "  —  Bulletin  Monumental,  t.  ix.  p.  186. 


616  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

king  nor  the  other  leurles  would  consent  to  it,  and  he  had  to 
remain  for  some  time  longer  at  the  Merovingian  court,  until 
he  was  elected  bishop  (at  the  same  time  as  his  friend  Eloy- 
sius)  by  the  unanimous  consent  of  the  clergy  and  people. 

He  exercised  a  sort  of  sovereignty  at  once  spiritual  and 
temporal  throughout  the  whole  province  of  Rouen;  for  he 
had  obtained  from  the  King  of  Neustria  a  privilege  by  the 
terms  of  which  neither  bishop,  abbot,  count,  nor  any  other 
judge  could  be  established  there  without  his  consent.^^s  Dur- 
ina*  the  forty-three  years  of  his  rule,  he  changed  the 
whole  aspect  oi  his  diocese,  covering  it  with  mo- 
nastic foundations,  one  of  which,  situated  at  Rouen  itself, 
has  retained  his  name,  consecrated  to  art  and  history  by  that 
wonderfal  basiHca  which  is  still  the  most  popular  monument 
of  Normandy. 

But  Ouen  had  not  left  his  beloved  foundation  of  Rebais 
without  a  head  worthy  of  presiding  over  its  future  progress. 
He  desired  to  choose  a  ruler  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  that 
great  saint  whose  memory  remained  always  so  dear  to  him.124 
He  brought  from  Luxeuil  the  monk  who  seemed  to 
fnst^uelrby  l"iT^  tlic  bcst  porsonification  of  the  institute  of  Co- 
^*"Rebail  lumbanus.  It  was  Agilus,  the  son  of  that  noble  who 
— _  '  had  obtained  the  gift  of  Luxeuil  for  the  Irish  mis- 
63o-r,oo.  gJQjja^jy  ivom  the  Burgundian  king.  Like  Ouen  and 
his  brothers,  Agilus  had  been  brought  as  a  child  to  receive 
the  blessing  of  Colunibanus  in  his  father's  house,  and  was 
afterwards  intrusted  to  the  saint  to  be  educated  in  the  mon- 
astery, where  he  had  adopted  monastic  life,  and  gained  the 
affection  and  confidence  of  the  whole  community.i^-5  Associ- 
ated with  the  mission  of  the  successor  of  Columbanus  among 
the  pagan  Warasques  and  Bavarians,  his  fame  was  great  in 
all  the  countries  under  Frank  dominion,  and  wherever  he  had 
been,  at  Metz,  at  Langres,  and  Besan^on,  he  had  excited  uni- 
versal admiration  by  his  eloquence  and  the  miraculous  cures 
which  were  owing  to  his  prayers.  All  these  cities  desired 
him  for  their  bishop ;  but  the  monks  of  Luxeuil,  above  all, 
saw  in  him  their  future  abbot.  To  bring  him  forth  from  that 
cloister  which  was  his  true  mother-country,  a  written  order 
of  Dagobert  was  necessary,  who  made  him  first  go  to  Com- 

'^*  Lecointe,  Ann.  Eccles.  ad  ann.  681;  H.  Martin,  ii.  163. 
*'  '•  Qai  S.  Columbanum  pr^stantissime  dilexerat."  —  Vita  S.  Agili,  c.  24. 

'^*  See  page  561  for  an  account  of  the  father  of  Agilus,  and  the  mission 
with  wliich  he  was  charged  to  King  Thierry,  after  the  first  expulsion  of  Co- 
lumbanus. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  617 

piegne,  where  he  received  him  pompously  in  the  midst,  of 
his  court,  and  bestowed  on  him,  with  the  consent  of  the  bish- 
ops and  leudes  assembled  at  the  palace,  the  government  of 
the  new  abbey.  Twelve  monks  from  Luxeuil  entered  with 
him,  and  were  soon  joined  by  a  great  number  of  nobles,  from 
the  royal  retinue  and  the  surrounding  country,  to  such  an 
extent  that  Agilus  had  as  many  as  eighty  disciples,  among 
whom  was  the  young  Philibert,  who  was  to  bear  the  tradi- 
tions of  Columbanus  from  Rebais  to  Jumi^ges.  All  de- 
voted themselves  to  the  labors  of  civilization  and  the  duties 
of  hospitality  with  that  zeal  which  made  the  new  nospitaiity 
monasteries  so  many  agricultural  colonies  and  as-  oiuobais. 
sured  shelters  for  travellers  in  these  vast  provinces  of  Gaul, 
which  were  thus  finally  raised  from  the  double  ruin  into 
which  Roman  oppression  and  Barbarian  invasion  had  thrown 
them. 

The  Irisli  who  then  flocked  into  Gaul  on  the  steps  of  Co- 
lumbanus, and  who  traversed  it  to  carry  the  tribute  of  their 
ardent  devotion  to  Rome,  willingly  halted  at  the  door  of  the 
monastery  where  they  were  sure  of  meeting  a  pupil  or  ad- 
mirer of  their  great  countryman  ;  and  Agilus  refreshed  them 
plentifully  with  the  good  wine  of  the  banks  of  Marne,  till  he 
sometimes  almost  exhausted  the  provisions  of  the  monastery. 
But  a  pleasant  narrative  shows  us  his  watchful  charity  in  a 
still  more  attractive  light.  It  was  evening,  a  winter  evening  ; 
the  abbot,  after  having  passed  the  day  in  receiving  guests  of 
an  elevated  rank,  was  going  over  the  various  offices  of  the 
monastery ;  when  he  reached  the  xenodochiicm,  that 
is,  the  almonry  or  hospice,  specially  destined  foi'  travfuer" 
the  reception  of  the  poor,  he  heard  outside  a  feeble  Iheuvt  "^ 
and  plaintive  voice,  as  of  a  man  who  wept.  Through  'igw  by 
the  wicket  of  the  door,  and  by  the  half  light,  he  saw 
a  poor  man,  covered  with  sores,  lying  upon  the  ground  and 
asking  admittance.  Turning  immediately  to  the  monk  who 
accompanied  him,  he  cried,  '^  See  how  we  have  neglected 
our  first  duty  for  these  other  cares.  Make  haste  and  have 
something  prepared  for  him  to  eat."  Then,  as  he  had  with 
him  all  the  keys  of  the  house,  which  the  porter  took  to  him 
every  evening  after  the  stroke  of  compline,  he  opened  the 
postern  of  the  great  door.  *'  Come,  my  brother,"  he  said, 
"  wo  will  do  all  for  thee  that  thou  needest."  The  sufferings 
of  the  leper  prevented  him  from  walking,  and  the  abbot  him- 
self carried  him  in  upon  his  shoulders  and  placed  him  upon 
»  seat  by  the  side  of  the  fire.  Then  he  hastened  to  seek 
52* 


618  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

water  and  linen  to  wash  his  hands  ;  but  when  he  return(;d 

the  poor  man  had  disappeared,  leaving  behind  him  a  delicious 

perfume  which  filled  the  whole  house,  as  if  all  the  spices  of 

the  East  or  all  the  flowers  of  spring  had  distilled  their  odors 
there. ^26 

These  sweet  expansions  of  charity  were  allied,  under  the 
influence  of  the  Rule  of  Columbanus,  to  the  most  masculine 
virtues,  among  the  women  as  well  as  among  the  men.  Dur- 
ing that  same  journey  from  Neustria  to  Austrasia,  the  illustri- 
st  Faron  ^^^  exilc,  before  he  reached  the  house  of  the  father 
and  his        of  St.  Oueu,  had  visited  another  family  connected 

—  ■  with  theirs,  which  dwelt  near  Meaux,  and  the  head 
612-072.  q£  which  was  a  powerful  noble  called  Agneric, 
whose  son  Cagnoald  had  been  a  monk  at  Luxeuil  from  his 
childhood,  and  had  accompanied  the  holy  abbot  in  his  exile. 
Agneric  was  invested  with  that  dignity  which  has  been 
translated  by  the  title  of  companion  of  the  king ;  and  this 
king  was  Theodebert,  to  whose  court  Columbanus  was  bound. 
He  received  the  glorious  outlaw  with  transports  of  joy,  and 
desired  to  be  his  guide  for  the  rest  of  the  journey.  But  be- 
fore leaving,  he  begged  Columbanus  to  bless  all  his  house, 
and  presented  to  him  on  that  occasion  his  little  daughter, 
who  is  known  to  us  only  under  the  name  of  Burgundofara, 
which  indicates  at  once  the  exalted  birth  and  Burgundian 
origin  of  her  family,^-^  as  it  were,  the  noble  baroness  of  Bur- 
gundy. The  saint  gave  her  his  blessing,  but  at  the  same 
time  dedicated  her  to  the  Lord.  History  says  nothing  about 
the  consent  of  her  parents,  but  the  noble  young  girl  herself, 

128  u  pgp  edictum  Regis.  .  .  .  Fultus  nitore  proceruin.  .  .  .  Per  consiil- 
tum  Episcoporum  et  nostrorum  optimatum.  .  .  .  Multi  ex  primoribus  pal.'itii 
atque  proceribus  patrice  .  .  .  peroptabant  sub  illius  regiiiiine  monacliicani 
ducere  vitam.  .  .  .  Veniens  plebs  ex  Hibernia  ...  ob  B.  Agili  famam  lauda- 
bilem  qiicm  isdem  Columbanus  .  .  .  nutriverat.  .  .  .  Vini  copiam  ...  in 
niagno  vase  imperat  abbas  totuni  fratribus  ac  plebi  propinari.  .  .  .  Audivit 
.  .  .  velut  plangentis  hominis  exilem  vocem.  .  .  .  Erat  enim  adhuc  quiddam 
diei.  .  .  .  Aperta  fenestra  qu©  portae  inhaerebat.  .  .  .  Ecce  quomodo  .  .  . 
tanta  negleximus  :  perge  velocius  et  para  ei  refectionem.  .  .  .  Veni,  frater. 
•  .  .  Iliems  quippe  erat.  .  .  .  Tanta  fragrantia  jocundi  odoris  domum  re- 
plevit,  velut  si.  .  .  .  "  —  Vita  S.  Agili  auctore  subaquali,  c.  17,  20,  23,  24, 
ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.  p.  .S08. 

1S7  u  Burgundiffi  Farones  vero,  tarn  episcopi  quani  cseteri  leudes."--  Fred- 
EGAIRE,  c.  41,  ap.  D.  Bouquet,  ii.  429.  In  chapter  44  he  makes  it  a  single 
word,  Burgvndcsfaroncs,?,Y>Qixyi\n^  of  the  Burgundian  nobles  met  at  the  Coun- 
cil of  Bonneuil.  Faron  cumes,  according  to  Dom  Bouquet,  from  the  word 
fara,  which  means  generation  or  line,  in  La  Loi  des  Lombafds,  v.  iii.  tit. 
xiv.  Compare  Paul  the  Deacon,  lib.  ii  c.  9.  From  this  evidently  proceeds 
the  word  baron,  so  long  used  to  designate  tiie  leaders  of  the  aristocracy  in  ali 
the  countries  occupied  by  the  Geruianic  tribes. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS,  619 

when  slio  had  reached  a  marriageable  age,  considered  her- 
self bound  by  that  engagement,  and  resolutely  opposed  the 
marriage  which  her  brother  wished  her  to  contract.  She 
became  ill,  and  was  at  the  point  of  death.  In  the  mean  time 
the  abbot  Eustace,  the  successor  of  Columbanus  at  Luxeuil, 
returning  from  Italy  to  give  an  account  to  Clotaire  II.  of  the 
mission  to  his  spiritual  father  with  which  the  king  had 
charged  him,  passed  by  the  villa  of  Agneric.  At  sight  of 
the  dying  girl,  he  reproached  her  father  with  having  violated 
the  engagement  taken  towards  God  by  the  saint  whose  bless- 
ing he  had  asked.  Agneric  promised  to  leave  his  daughter 
to  God  if  she  recovered.  Eustace  procured  that  recovery. 
But  scarcely  had  he  departed  for  Soissons,  when  the  father, 
unfaithful  to  his  promise,  attempted  again  to  constrain  his 
daughter  to  a  marriage  which  she  resisted.  She  then  escaped 
and  took  refuge  in  the  Cathedral  at  St.  Peter.  Her  father's 
retainers  followed  her  there,  with  orders  to  bring  her  away 
from  the  sanctuary,  and  threaten  her  with  death.  B„ro-undo- 
"  Do  you  believe,  then,"  she  said  to  them,  "  that  I  faraVaves 
fear  death  ?  make  the  trial  upon  the  pavement  of  to'b^ecome 
this  church.  Ah  !  how  happy  should  I  be  to  give  ^"""* 
my  life  in  so  just  a  cause  to  Him  who  has  given  His  life  for 
me  !  "  128  gijQ  iie](j  out  until  the  return  of  Abbot  Eustace, 
who  finally  delivered  her  from  her  father,  and  obtained  from 
him  a  grant  of  land  on  which  Burgundofara  might  found  the 
monastery  of  Faremoutier,  which  was  called  by  her  Faremou- 

uame.    Her  example  drew  as  many  followers,  among  *"^''' 

the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  Frank  nobility,  as  About  617. 
her  cousins  had  gained  of  their  own  sex,  for  their  monas- 
teries of  Rebais  and  Jouarre.  This  corner  of  La  Brie  be- 
came thus  a  sort  of  monastic  province  dependent  upon 
Luxeuil.     Burgundofara  lived  there  forty  years,  faithfully 

128  ''Vir  nobilis  Hagnericus,  Theodeberti  conviva  .  .  .  et  consiliis  ejus 
grata.  •  .  .  Quae  infra  infantiles  annos  benedicens  earn  Domino  vovit."  — 
Jonas,  Vita  S.  Columbani,  c.  60.  "  Accedens  ad  stratum  puellae,  sciscita- 
tur  si  suae  fuerit  adsentationis  quod  contra  B.  Columbani  interdictum  post 
vota  coelestia  rursus  iteravit  terrena.  .  .  .  Mortem  me  formidare  putatis  'i 
In  lioc  ecciesiae  pavimento  probate.  .  •  .  Quern  (Agrestinum)  Christi  virgo 
non  femineo  more,  sed  virili  confodit  responsione."  —  Ibid.,  Vita  S.  Eustasii, 
c.  1,  2,  14.  Tlie  same  Jonas  wrote,  during  the  lifetime  of  the  Abbess  Bur- 
gundofara, a  series  of  anecdotes  regarding  the  various  nuns  of  the  monas- 
tery, which  tlirows  great  light  upon  the  internal  government  of  a  great  abbey 
of  women  in  the  seventh  century.  (Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  v.  ii.  p.  420.)  He 
carefully  records  the  origin  of  all  these  nuns ;  among  them  we  find  one  Sax- 
on, probably  come  from  England,  which  had  then  become  Christian,  or  per- 
haps one  of  the  prisoners  of  Clotaire. 


620  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

observing  the  Rule  of  St.  Columbanus,  and  maintaining  if 
manfully  against  the  perfidious  suggestions  of  tlie  false 
brother  Agrestin,  who  attempted  to  engage  her  in  his  revolt 
against  Eustace  and  the  traditions  of  their  common  master. 
''  1  will  have  none  of  thy  novelties,"  she  said  to  liim  ;  "  and 
as  for  those  whose  detractor  thou  art,  I  know  them,  I  know 
their  virtues,  I  have  received  the  docti'ine  ol'  salvation  from 
them,  and  I  know  that  their  instructions  have  opened  the 
gates  of  heaven  to  many.  Leave  me  quickly,  and  give  up 
thy  foolish  tiiouglits." 

The  eldest  brother  of  Bursrnndofara,  Ca^noald, 
"  "  '  was,  as  has  been  said,  a  monk  at  Luxeuil,  and  the 
faithful  companion  of  Columbanus  during  his  mission  among 
the  Alamans  :  he  afterwards  became  bishop  of  Laon.  His 
other  brother,  who,  like  his  sister,  has  only  retained  for  pos- 
terity the  name  of  his  rank  —  that  of  Faron,  or  Bai'on 

Piiron,  . 

—  was  also  a  bishop  at  j\leaux.  the  centre  of  the 
family  domains.  But  before  he  adopted  the  ecclesiastical 
condition,  he  had  distinguished  himself  in  war,  anil  taken  a 
notable  part  in  the  victorious  campaign  of  Clotaire  II.  against 
the  Saxons.  It  is  known  how,  according  to  the  ordinarily 
received  tradition,  Clotaire  disgraced  his  victory  b}'  massa- 
cring all  his  Saxon  prisoners  who  were  higher  in  stature  than 

his  sword.  All  that  Faron  could  do  was  to  save 
thesaxoii  from  the  cruelty  of  his  king  the  Saxon  envoys, 
envoys.  charged  with  an  insolent  mission  to  the  king  of  the 
Franks,  whom  Clotaire  had  ordered  to  be  put  to  death. 
Faron  had  them  baptized,  and  said  to  the  king,  "  These  are 
no  longer  Saxons;  they  are  Christians;"  upon  which  Clo- 
taire spared  them.  If  one  of  his  successors  upon  the  see  of 
Meaux,  who  two  centuries  later  wrote  his  biography,  may  be 
believed,  the  glory  of  Faron  eclipsed  that  of  Clotaire  himself 
in  tlie  popular  songs  which  peasants  and  women  vied  in  re- 
peating, as  happened  to  David  in  the  time  of  Saul.^^^     The 

129  u  £x  qyj^  victoria  carmen  publicum  juxta  rusticitatem  per  omnium  pene 
volitabat  ora  ita  caiientium,  feminaeque  choros  inde  plaudendo  componebant : 
'De  Clothario  est  canere  Rege  Francorum, 
Qui  ivit  pugnare  in  genteni  Saxonum, 
Quam  graviter  provenisset  missis  Saxonum, 
Si  non  fuisset  inclytus  Faro  de  gente  Burgundionum.' 
"  Et  in  fine  hujus  carminis  : 

*  Quando  veniunt  Missi  Saxonum  in  terrara  Francorum, 
Faro  ubi  erat  princeps, 

Instinctu  Dei  transeunt  per  urbem  Meldorum, 
Ne  interficiantur  a  Rege  Francorum.'  " 
—  HiiDEGARii  Meld.  Episcop.,  Vita  S.  Faronis,  c.  72-78.     Compare  Rett- 
BERG,  t.  ii.  p.  394. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  621 

gonerous  Faron  had  again,  according  to  the  same  author,  to 
struggle  with  Clotaire  on  an  occasion  which  should  have  left 
a  lasting  recollection  in  the  grateful  hearts  of  the  poor.  One 
day,  when  the  "  knight  of  God  "  accompanied  the  king  to 
the  chase,  a  poor  woman  came  out  of  the  wood,  and 
pursued  the  king  with  her  complaints,  explaining  cedosioira 
her  great  distress  to  him.  Clotaire,  annoyed,  went  m°in''witii 
off  at  a  gallop.  Faron,  while  escorting  him,  held  a  ciotaireii. 
language  in  which  we  shall  see  the  noble  freedom  arehunt- 
of  German  manners  employed  in  the  service  of  "*^' 
charity  and  truth.  "  It  is  not  for  herself  that  this  poor  wo- 
man entreats  you,  but  for  3'ou.  Her  wretchedness  weighs 
heavily  on  her;  but  the  responsibility  of  the  royalty,  which 
is  intrusted  to  you,  weighs  still  more  heavily  on  you.  She 
trusts  her  concerns  to  you,  as  you  trust  yours  to  God.  She 
asks  little  of  you  compared  to  what  you  ask  every  day  of 
God.  How  can  you  expect  that  he  will  listen  to  you,  when 
you  turn  away  your  ear  from  this  poor  creature  whom  he 
has  committed  to  your  keeping  ?  "  The  king  answered  :  "  I 
am  pursued  by  such  cries  every  day,  and  in  all  quarters;  ray 
ears  are  deafened  by  them ;  I  am  disgusted  and  worn  out." 
Upon  which  he  plunged  into  the  wood  and  sounded  his  horn 
with  all  his  might,  to  encourage  the  dogs.  But  some  minutes 
after  his  horse  stumbled,  and  the  king  hurt  his  foot  seriously. 
Then  he  perceived  that  he  had  been  wrong.  The  leude  who 
spoke  to  him  with  so  much  Christian  boldness  was  well  qual- 
ihed  to  be  a  bishop.  He  shortly  after  gave  up  his  wife,!^'^ 
and  the  world,  and  becoming  bishop  of  Meaux,  devoted  his 
patrimony  to  found  monasteries  for  the  reception  of  those 
Anglo-Saxons  who,  recently  converted,  began  to  appear 
among  the  Franks,  and  whose  daughters  came  in  great  num- 
i)ers  to  take  the  veil  at  Faremoutier.  He  did  the  same  for 
the  Scots  and  Irish,  for  whom  he  had  a  particular  regard,  and 
in  whom  he  doubtless  honored,  by  a  domestic  tradition,  the 
memory  of  then*  compatriot  Columbanus.^^^ 

'"  ISte  ahove,  page  592,  in  note  92,  upon  the  tonsure,  the  curious  anecdote 
ot  lliis  woman  and  lier  hair. 

131  "  Miles  Cliristi  cum  eo  equitans.  .  .  .  Non  haec  paupercula  tristi  dolore 
chimiit  pro  se,  sed  pro  te.  Quanivis  ilia  angustetur  lacrymabili  corde,  tibi 
aM^ustaiidum  est  potius  pro  commisso  regimine.  Ilia  in  te  spem  ponit  hu- 
nu.i  prece  pro  se,  et  tu  de  propriis  rebus  in  Deo  pro  te.  ...  Quomodo  enim 
Maxiinus  .  .  .  quando  suse  tilii  tommissse  pauperculae  nee  etiam  curas  at- 
tciidre.  .  .  .  Ad  hiec  rex :  Omnium  dierura  accessus  et  subrecessus  tali  meas 
soUicitant  aures  nausea  frequenter  diverberatas,  et  ad  haec  curandum  continue 
animus  sopitur  lassatus.  Tunc  cornu  curvo  plenis  buccis  anlieiiter  latratus 
cauuni   acuit."  —  Hildegauius,  0.  81,  82,  ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.  p.  591 


622  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

Other  To   aaj  who    desire  to  study  more   closely  tho 

Luxeuiiin  double  actioD  of  the  Irish  emigrants  and  the  colo- 
chara-  iiies  of  Luxouil  in  that  portion  of  Prankish  Gaul 
pagne^  which  has  since  been  called  I'lle  de  France  and 
stViacre.     Champagne;  St.  Fiacre,  whom  we  have  already  seen 

g^rr:  occupied  in  transforming  the  wooded  glades  given 
him  by  the  Bishop  of  Meaux  into  gardens,  and  cul- 
tivating there  for  the  poor  those  vegetables  which  have  pro- 
cured for  him,  down  to  our  own  day,  the  title  of  patron  of  the 
gardeners,i32  should  be  pointed  out  as  one  of  the  Hibernians 
received  by  St.  Faron.  Not  far  from  him  would  be 
ursy.  £q^^j^^  another  Irishman,  St.  Fursy,  who  came  to  seek 
repose,  as  first  abbot  of  Lagny-sur-Marne,  from  the  fatigues 
of  a  life  worn  out  by  preaching,  as  well  as  troubled  by  that 
famous  vision  of  heaven  and  hell,  which  appears  with  justice 
among  the  numerous  legends  of  the  middle  ages  which  were 
forerunners  of  the  Divina  Comedia,^'^  and  from  which  he 
emerged  with  the  special  mission  of  denouncing,  as  the  prin- 
cipal causes  of  the  loss  of  souls,  the  negligence  of  pastors, 
St.  Frobert  '^^^  ^^'^  ^ad  example  of  princes.^^*  Moutier-la-Celle, 
of  Moutier-  at  the  gatcs  of  Troyes,  built  upon  a  marshy  island, 
near  '  more  Suitable  for  reptiles  than  men,  by  the  abbot 
Troyes^        Frobort,  who  was  so  simple  and  childish  as  to  rouse 

643  6?.3.  t|-,Q  derision  of  his  brethren  at  Luxeuil,  but  who  was 
intelligent  and  generous  enough  to  conseci'ate  all  his  rich 
patrimony  to  found  the  sanctuary  built  near  his  native  town, 
should  also  be  visited.^^^  Farther  off,  to  the  east,  we  should 
see  Hautvilhers  i^*^  and  Montier-en-Der,  both  sprung  from  the 
„  ^  .  unwearied  activity  and  fervent  charity  of  Berchaire, 
—  *     an  Aquitain  noble,  trained   to  monastic  life   under 

C30-6S5.  Walbert  at  Luxeuil,  from  whence  he  issued  to  be- 
come the  fellow-laborer  of  the  metropolitan  of  Rheims,  and  to 
gain  for  his  works  the  generous  and  permanent  assistanee  of 
the  kings  and  all  the  high  nobility  of  Austrasia.  He  died, 
assassinated  by  a  monk  who  was  his  godson,  and  whose  in- 
subordination he  had  repressed. ^■^^ 

"'^  See  page  535. 

'•*•*  OzANAM,  Des  Sources  Poetiques  de  la  Divine  Comedie,  1845,  p.  46. 

134  upgj.  negligentiam  Doctorum,  per  mala  exempla  pravorum  principum." 

Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.  p.  291. 

'^*  One  of  tho  brethren  having  sent  him  for  compasses,  which  were  required 
for  writing,  he  was  sent  bacli  witli  a  millstone  on  his  shoulders,  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  double  meaning  of  the  word  circinus,  whicli,  in  monk  Latin,  m'iant 
at  once  compass  and  millstone.  —  Vita  S.  Fj'odob.,  c.  7. 

*"*®  See  p.  527,  the  legend  of  the  foundation  of  Hautvilliers. 

'*'  "  Tanquam  athleta  recentissinius  militiae  gymnasium  coelestis.  .  .  . 
Corporis  quietis  impatiens.  .  .  .  Kegibus  .  .  .  ac  regiae  dignitatis  proceribus 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  623 

Finally,  upon  the  mountain  which  overlooks  the  episcopal 
city  of  Laon,  celebrated  for  having  up  to  that  time  resisted 
all  the  Barbarians  who  had  successively  besieged  it,  we  should 
see  the  vast  monastery  erected  b}'  an  illustrious  widow,  St. 
Salaber^a,  whose    father  was   lord    of  the   villa   of     „    „  . 

o    '  ...  St    Sella 

Mouse,  situated  near  the  source  of  the  river  which  beiga  at 
bears  that  name,  and  very  near  Luxeuil.  While  still  ^^^ 
young,  but  blind,  she  had  owed  the  recovery  of  her  610655. 
siglit  to  Eustace,  the  first  successor  of  Columbanus  at  Luxonil, 
She  was  married  the  first  tipie  because  of  her  extreme  beauty, 
but,  becoming  a  widow  almost  immediately,  and  desirous  of 
becoming  a  nun,  was  obliged  to  marry  again  to  escape  the 
jealous  intervention  of  Dagobert,  who,  like  all  the  Merovin- 
gian kings,  was  as  slow  to  consent  to  the  monastic  vocation 
of  the  daughters  and  heiresses  of  hisleudes  as  to  that  of  their 
sons,  and  who  insisted  upon  their  speedy  marriage  to  nobles 
of  the  same  rank.  But,  at  a  later  period,  owing  to  the  influ- 
ence of  Walbert,  the  successor  of  Eustace,  she  was  enabled, 
at  the  same  time  as  her  husband,  to  embrace  monastic  life, 
and  for  ten  years  ruled  the  three  hundred  handmaids  of  Christ 
who  collected  under  her  wing,  most  of  whom  came  like  her- 
self from  the  noble  race  of  the  Sicambrians,  as  the  hagiog- 
raphers  of  the  seventh  century  delight  to  prove,  in  speaking 
of  the  male  and  female  saints  whose  lives  they  relate. ^^^ 

It  would,  however,  be   a  grave  error  to  believe 
that   the    nobility    alone    were    called,    among    the   Luxeuiiin 
Franks  and   GalJo-Romans,  to  fill  up  the  monastic  i'""*'^''^"- 
ranks,  and  preside  over  the  new  foundations  which  distin- 
guished every  year  of  the  Merovingian  period.     Luxeuil  and 
its  colonies  furnished  more  than  one  proof  to  the  contrary. 
A   little    shepherd    of  Auvergne,    named    Walaric,  , 
which  has  been  softened  into  Valery,  roused  by  the  hei^dVai*- 
example  of  the  noble  children  of  the  neighborhood   ^'^^' 

tarn  gratum  acceptabilemque.  .  .  .  Palatii  optimatis  ita  in  cunctis  affabilis. 
.  .  .  Tam  ea  qua  sui  juris  .  .  .  quam  quae  ab  ipsis  Francoruni  priinoribus 
obtineri  poterant." — Adson,  Vita  S.  Bercharii,  c.  7,  11,  12,  13.  This  life, 
written  by  one  of  St.  Bercbaire's  successors  at  Montier-en  Der,  is  one  of  tbe 
most  interesting  works  in  the  great  collection  of  Acta  brought  together  by 
D'Aohery  and  Mabillon,  although  it  has  not  the  weight  of  a  contemporary 
production.  An  excellent  work,  entitled  Les  Moines  du  Der,  by  M.  I'Abbe 
Souillevaux,  has  been  written  upon  this  abbey.  The  abbatial  church,  which 
is  still  existing,  is  one  of  the  finest  monastic  churches  in  France. 

138  .t  Erat  enim  decora  venustaque  vultu.  .  .  .  Metuens  ne  ob  tiliam  iram 
regis  sasvitiamque  incurreret.  .  .  .  Jam  enim  opinio  ejus  ad  aures  regiaa 
pervenerat.  .  .  .  Ipse  ex  Sicambrorum  prosapia  spectabili  ortus.  .  .  .  Inter 
caeteras  nobilium  Sicambrorum  feminas."  —  Vita  S.  Salahergce,  auctore 
coccvo,  c    6,  9,  17. 


624  ST.   COLUMBANUb. 

who  went  to  schools,  asked  one  of  their  teachers  to  make 
bim  out  an  alphabet,  and  found  means,  as  be  kept  liis  father's 
sheep,  to  learn  not  only  bis  letters,  but  the  entire  Psalter. 
From  thence  to  the  cloister  the  transition  was  easy.  But 
after  having  lived  in  two  different  monasteries,  he  felt  him- 
self drawn  towards  the  great  abbey  from  which  the  fame  of 
Columbanus  shone  over  all  Gaul.  He  was  received  there 
Gardener  at  '^^^'^  intrusted  with  the  care  of  the  novices'  garden. 
Luxeuii.  fje  succeeded  so  well  in  driving  away  the  insects 
and  worms,  bis  vegetables  were  so  wholesome  and  welb 
flavored,  his  flowers  so  fresh  and  sweet,  that  Columbanus 
sav.^  in  this  a  mark  of  divine  favor ;  and  as  the  fervent  gar- 
dener carried  everywhere  with  him  the  perfume  of  these  flow- 
ers,  which  followed  him  even  into  the  hall  where  the  abbot 
explained  the  Scriptures,  Columbanus,  delighted,  said  to  bim 
one  day,  "  It  is  thou,  my  well-beloved,  who  art  the  true  abbot 
and  lord  of  this  monastery."  After  the  exile  of  the  great 
Celt,  Valery  aided  the  new  abbot  Eustace  to  defend,  by  means 
of  persuasion,  the  patrimony  and  buildings  of  the  monastery 
tigainst  the  invasions  of  the  neighboring  population.  But 
soon  the  missionary  fever  seized  him.  He  obtained  permis- 
sion from  Eustace  to  go  and  preach,  following  the  example 
of  their  spiritual  master,  among  the  nations  where  idolatry 
still  struggled  with  Christianity.  He  directed  his  steps  to 
.  the  environs  of  Amiens,  upon  the  shores  of  the  Bri- 

Tiear'  "'"^  tauuic  sea,  in  that  portion  of  Neustria  where  the 
AmieQs.  Salian  Franks  had  chiefly  established  themselves. 
Guided  by  zeal  and  charity,  be  penetrated  everywhere,  eveu 
to  the  mdls,  or  judicial  assizes,  held,  according  to  the  custom 
of  the  Germans,  by  the  count  of  the  district.  According  to 
the  unfailing  habit  of  the  monks  and  abbots  of  that  time,  he 
appeared  there  to  endeavor  to  save  the  unfortunate,  who 
were  condemned,  from  execution.  The  King  of  Neustria, 
Founder  of  Clotairo  II. ,  always  favorable  to  those  who  came 
Lcuconaus.  ^^^^  Luxouil,  permitted  him  to  establish  himself  at 
594-Gi?2.  Leuconaus,  a  place  situated  at  the  mouth  of  itie 
Somme,  where  the  high  cliffs,  bathed  by  the  sea,  seemed  to 
the  monks  collected  around  him  to  be  immense  edifices,  whose 
summits  reached  the  sky.  He  made  it  a  sort  of  maritime 
Luxeuii.  He  went  out  unceasingly  to  sow  his  rais- 
which  he  sionary  discourses,  which  exposed  him  to  a  thousand 
*"^*'  insults  and  dangers.     Sometimes  the  idolaters,  see- 

ing the  fall  of  their  sacred  oaks,  threw  themselves  upon  him 
with  their  axes  and  sticks,  then  stopped,  disarmed   by  his 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  62£ 

calm  intrepidity !  Sometimes  even  the  judges  and  priests 
of  the  countr\^  made  him  pay  for  their  ho^^pitality  by  rudo 
and  obscene  jokes.  To  escape  from  their  impure  talk,  he  had 
to  leave  their  roof  and  fireside.  '*  1  wished  to  warm  my 
frame  a  h'ttle  by  your  fire,  because  of  tiie  great  cold."  he 
said;  "but  your  odious  conversation  forces  me,  still  frozen, 
out  of  your  house."  He  was,  however,  of  extreme  gentle- 
ness, and  softened  the  observance  of  the  rule,  so  far  as  con- 
cerned penances,  with  an  indulgence  which  scarcel}'  consisted 
with  Celtic  tradition.  But  his  unpopularity  lasted 
even  after  his  death  among  a  portion  of  the  people  lasted  after 
whom  he  had  undertaken  to  convert,  as  is  proved  ^'^f''^''*^- 
by  a  little  dialogue  recorded  by  his  historian.  On  the  spot 
where  he  had  cut  down  a  tree  venerated  by  the  idolaters,  at 
Aoust  or  Ault,  upon  the  road  to  Eu,  the  Christian  peasants 
raised  an  oratory  consecrated  to  his  memory  ;  but  the  women 
of  the  old  Frank  races,  passing  before  that  modest  sanctuary, 
still  testified  their  repugnance  and  scorn  for  the  monastic 
apostle.  '*  Dear  mother,"  said  a  daughter  to  her  mother, 
"  would  these  people  have  us  to  venerate  the  man  whom  we 
used  to  see  going  about  the  country  mounted  on  an  ass,  and 
miserably  clad?"  "Yes,"  answered  the  mother;  "  it  is  so  ; 
these  peasants  erect  a  temple  in  honor  of  him  who  did  among 
us  only  vile  and  contemptible  things." 

The  memory  of  Valery,  thus  scorned  by  his  contemporaries, 
was  nevertheless  to  grow  more  and  more  brilliant  during  the 
course  of  ages  :  and  we  shall  see  him  on  two  solemn  occasions 
receive  the  homage  of  the  great  princes  who  have  founded 
the  two  greatest  monarchies  of  Christendom,  Hugh  Capet 
and  William  the  Conqueror.i^^ 

139  u  Oviculas  patris  sui  per  pascua  circumagens.  .  .  .  Depoposcit  ut  sibi 
alphabetum  scriberet.  .  .  .  Cuncta  virentia,  jocunda,  amoena  atque  intacta 
conspiciens.  .  .  .  Odorem  magnae  fragrantise  et  niirandae  suavitatis.  .  ,  .  Tu 
es  merito  abbas  monasterii  et  senior,  mihi,  diligende.  .  .  .  Ubi  quidam  comes 
.  .  .  juxta  morem  sseculi  concioni  praesidebat,  quod  rustic!  malliim  vocant. 
.  .  .  Volui  propter  rigorem  frigoris  .  .  .  iramo  nunc  exire  non  calefactus  a 
vobis  coinpeilor.  .  .  .  Pars  quae  super  scopulos  et  ingentia.saxa  ab  imis  ad 
suninia  erigitur,  aularum  vel  sediuni  fabricam  in  excelsa  aeris  fastigia  .  .  . 
mundo  vel  vicinas  region!  praebet  spectaculum.  .  .  .  Ilia  quae  ex  bis  prior 
esse  videbatur  conteninens.  .  .  .  Filia  cum  indignatione.  .  .  .  Dulcissima 
genitrix,  numquid  illo  in  loco  habitatores  venerari  conantur  ilium  quem  ante 
hos  annos  asello  insidentcm  despicabili  habitu  cernebamus?  Huic  vero,  ut 
ais,  filia,  rustic!  volunt  fieri  memoriam  cujus  opera  apud  nos  vilia  et  cpn- 
temptu  digna  videbantur."  —  Vita  S.  Walarici,  c.  1,  7,  8,  11,  13,  28.  The 
abbey  of  Leuconafls  became  the  town  of  St.  Valery-sur-Scmme,  one  of  the 
most  prosperous  ports  of  the  Channel  during  the  middle  ages.  This  town  is 
situated  upon  a  height,  forming  a  sort  of  island  or  promontory  between  the 

VOL.  I.  53 


(526  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

The  inhabitants  of  Ponthieu  (a  name  which  from  that 
period  was  borne  by  the  country  bordering  the  Sonime, 
where  Valery  had  established  himself)  seem  to  have  had  a 
decided  objection  to  monks  of  the  Irish  school.  Two  of  the 
first  companions  of  Columbanus,  arriving  from  Ireland  along 
with  him,  and  coming  to  preach  in  these  regions,  were  over- 
whelmned  with  insults  and  ill  usage.  At  tlie  moment  when 
they  were  about  to  be  violently  expelled  from  the  place,  a 
.  noble  named  Riquier  came  to  their  assistance,  and 
received  them  into  his  house.  In  return  for  his 
hospitality  they  inspired  him  with  love  for  all  the  Christian 
virtues,  and  even  for  monastic  life  ;  and  that  conquest  in- 
demnified them  for  their  rebuff.  Riquier  became  a  priest 
and  a  monk,  and  himself  began  to  preach  to  the  populations 
who  had  given  so  bad  a  reception  to  his  Irish  guests.  He 
succeeded  beyond  all  his  expectations,  and  made  himself 
heard  not  only  by  the  poor,  whose  miseries  he  consoled,  bat 
also  by  the  rich  and  powerful,  whose  excesses  he  censured 
severely.  The  greatest  nobles  of  the  country  were  favora- 
ble to  him,  including  even  the  keepers  of  the  royal  forests, 
whose  colleagues  showed  so  much  hostility  to  the  monastic 
apostles  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine.^**^  The  success  of  his  elo- 
quence was  also  a  triumph  for  charity ;  he  devoted  the 
numerous  alms  which  were  brought  him  to  redeem  captives, 
to  relieve  the  lepers  and  other  unfortunates  who  were  at- 
tacked by  contagious  and  disgusting  diseases.  After  having 
extended  his  apostolic  labors  as  far  as  the  Britannic  Isles,  he 
Founder  of  returned  to  found  in  his  own  domains  at  Centule, 
ceutuie.  north  of  the  Somme,  a  monastery  which  was  after- 
C25-045.  wards  to  take  his  own  name,  and  become  one  of  the 
most  considerable  monasteries  of  the  Carlovingian  period. 
In  the  mean  time  Dagobert,  who  had  succeeded  his  father 
Clotaire  11.  in  Neustria,  went  to  visit  him  in  his  retreat,  and 
invited  him  to  come  and  take  a  place  at  his  own  table,  among 
those  companions  of  the  king  who  formed,  as  is  well  known, 
Ihe    highest   aristocracy  among   the   Pranks.      Riquier  ac- 

Somnie  and  the  sea.  Defended  on  all  sides  by  abrupt  rocks,  this  isle  had  to 
be  fortified  to  the  south  by  an  intrenchment,  tlie  remains  of  wliich  are  still 
visible,  tiiid  which  form  a  boulevard  covered  with  grass,  called  the  Chemin 
Vert.  Tradition  asserts  this  to  have  been  the  liabitual  walk  of  the  abbot 
Valery,  and  tliat  it  was  his  footsteps  which  formed  the  path.  — Lefils,  HiS' 
toire  de  St.  Valery  etdu  Compte  de  Vimeu,  Abbeville,  1858,  p.  6.  St.  Valery- 
en-  Caux,  now  the  chief  town  of  the  district  of  Seine  Inferieure,  owes  its  origin 
to  the  removal,  by  Richard  Coeur-de-Lion,  in  1197,  of  the  relics  of  the  holy 
founder  of  Lcuconafls. 
""  See  page  610. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  6:27 

cepted  witliout  hesitation  ;  be  took  advantage  of  these  oc- 
casions to  tell  the  king  the  same  truth  which  the  other 
Franks  had  received  so  well  at  his  hands.  He  reproved 
him  with  priestly  freedom  and  authority,  exhorted 
him  not  to  pride  himself  on  his  honor  or  wealth,  and  course  with 
to  discourage  the  adulation  of  his  courtiers  ;  and  ^"S'*''®''*- 
asked  him  how  he  expected  to  stand  at  the  day  of  judgment 
to  answer  for  the  many  thousands  of  men  who  were  intrusted 
to  him,  he  who  would  have  difficulty  enough  in  rendering  an 
account  for  his  own  soul?  The  young  Dagobert  received 
liis  instructions  so  well  that  l.'e  made  the  Abbot  Riquier  a 
special  donation  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  up  the  lights  of 
his  church,  in  memory  of  that  invisible  light  of  Christian 
truth  with  which  the  voice  of  the  monk  had  enlightened  his 
soul.'"  Despite  their  incessanti}'  renewed  cruelties  and  un- 
christian manners,  all  the  Merovingian  kings  at  least  listened 
to  the  truth,  and  even  honored  those  who  did  them  the 
honor  of  speaking  it  to  them   boldly. 

At  no  great  distance  from  Ponthieu,  and  still  in  the  country 
occupied   by    the    Salian    Franks,   but    higher    up  colonies  of 
tov/ards  the   north,  upon  the   confines  of  the   two  ,^n',on"'the 
Gaulish  tribes  of  the  Atrebates  and  Moi'ins,  we  find   Morins. 
another  Luxeuil  colony,  reserved  for  a  more  brilliant  destiny 
then  any  of  those  we  have  j-et  mentioned.     Andomar,  since 
called  Omer,  was  the  son  of  a  noble  from  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Constance,  a  city  of  Alamannia,  which       '— "^ ' 
was  subject,  as  has  been  already  said,  to  the  Aus-      '^i-'^'^''- 

141  "  A  rusticis  et  popularibus  illins  loci  .  .  .  injuriis  afflictos  et  opprobriis 
castigatos.  .  .  .  Durus  invector  potentibus  .  .  .  istoruin  superbiam  sevcra 
castigatione  repriinens.  .  .  .  Gislcmarus,  vir  illustris.  .  .  .  Maurontus,  ha- 
bilis  vir,  et  terrarum  vol  silvarum  ad  regem  pertinentium  servator.  .  .  .  Nee 
leprosos  vcl  clephanliacos  exhorruit.  .  .  .  Sacerdotali  auctoritate  libera  voce 
castigavit;  denuntians  ei  ne  in  saeeulari  superbiret  potentia  .  .  .  ne  vanis 
adulantium  extolleretur  rumoribus  .  .  .  et  lioc  magis  timendo  cogitaret,  quia 
poteiitcs  potenter  tormenta  patiuntur  .  .  .  et  qui  vix  sufficit  pro  se  solo  ra- 
tioneni  reddere  pro  tantis  millibus  populi  sibi  commissi  .  .  .  qua  castigatione 
rex  ut  fuit  sapiens  benigne  suscepta,  congaudensque  ejus  libera  veritatis 
aducia."  —  Alcuin.,  Vita  S.  Richarii,  c.  2,  5.  10,  11,  12.  Compare  Ohronic. 
Centulense  in  Sjncilegio,  vol.  ii.  p.  295,  and  Mabillon,  Ann.  Benedict.,  book 
ii.  c.  60.  A  passage  of  Alcuin  seems  little  in  harmony  with  what  is  said  in 
the  Chronicle  of  Centule  and  by  the  Abbot  Ingelrara  in  his  Vie  Metrique,  in 
ihe  eleventh  century,  concerning  the  illustrious  birth  of  Riquier,  but  indicates, 
on  the  contrary,  that  he  was,  like  Valery,  of  rustic  origin  :  "  Non  tam  nobil- 
ibus  juxta  sseculi  parentibus  ortus  quam  moribus  honestus  .  .  .  ita  ut  in 
rustica  vita  quaedam  prsesaga  futura  sanctitatis  gererct,"  c.  1.  But  this  state- 
ment is  contradicted  by  other  details,  reported  by  Alcuin  himself.  Centule, 
under  the  name  of  St.  Eiquier,  now  a  little  town  of  the  Somme,  has  preserved 
its  magnificent  abbey  church.  Abbeville,  the  ancient  capital  of  Ponthieu 
(^Abbatis-villa),  was  a  small  holding  of  the  abbey  of  Centule. 


628  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

trasian  royalt3^  Perhaps,  in  passing  through  tliis  country, 
Columbanus  had  already  instructed  and  won  him  :  history 
gives  ns  no  information  on  this  point,  but  proves  that  a  little 
ai'ter  the  sojourn  of  the  Irish  apostle  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Lake  of  Constance,  the  young  Omer  presented  himself  at 
Luxeuil,  bringing  his  father  with  him,  a  ver}^  rare  junction 
in  monastic  annals.  Abbot  Eustace  admitted  both  among 
the  num])er  of  his  monks.  The  father  remained  there  until 
the  end  of  his  life ;  the  son  left  Luxeuil  twenty 
years  after  to  become  bishop  of  Therouanne  ;  he 
iiad  been  suggested  to  the  choice  of  Dagobert  and  the  Frank 
nobles  by  the  bishop  of  Laon,  himself  formerly  a  monk  of 
Luxeuil.  The  country  of  the  Morins,  of  which  Therouanne 
was  the  capital,  had  been  in  vain  evangelized  by  martyrs, 
from  the  first  introduction  of  the  faith  into  Gaul :  it  had 
iallen  back  into  idolatry  ;  the  few  Christians  who  had  been 
trained  there,  since  the  conquest  and  conversion  of  Clovis, 
were  bowed  down  with  coarse  superstitions.  The  new 
bishop  perceived  that  he  needed  assistance  to  accomplish 
such  a  task.  Some  years  after  his  consecration,  he  begged 
Abbot  VValbert  of  Luxeuil  to  send  him  tliree  of  his  former 
brethren,  who  had,  like  himself,  come  to  Luxeuil  from  the 
banks  of  Lake  Constance.  He  installed  them  in  an  estate 
Foundation  situated  on  the  banks  of  the  Aa,  and  called  Sithiu, 
or  Sithiu.  which  he  had  just  received  as  a  gift  from  a  rich  and 
powerful  pagan  noble  whom  he  had  baptized  with  all  his 
family.  This  estate  was  a  sort  of  island  amid  a  vast  marsh, 
which  could  scarcely  be  approached,  save  in  a  boat.  There 
rose,  at  the  same  time,  the  celebrated  abbey  which  at  a  later 
period  took  the  name  of  St.  Bertin,  after  the  youngest  of  the 
three  monks  set  from  Luxeuil,^^^  and  upon  a  neighboring 
height  a  little  church,  which  has  become  the  cathedral  of 
the  episcopal  town^  and  is  still  known  by  the  name  of  the 
apostle  of  Morinia.  Hia  body  was  deposited  there  after 
thirty  years  of  apostolical  labors  and  heroic  charity,  which 
changed  the  aspect  of  the  entire  province.  It  is  round  the 
cemetery  intended  for  the  reception  of  the  monks  of  St. 
Bertin  that  the  existing  town  of  St.  Omer  has  been  formed, 

•**  Of  the  two  others,  Monimolin  was  tlie  first  abhot  of  Sithiu,  and  after- 
wards succeeded  St.  Eloysius  in  the  see  of  Nojon.  Ebertrannus  was  abbot 
of  the  monastery  of  St.  Quentin.  The  Annales  Benedict.,  lib.  xvi.  c.  56, 
contains  a  very  curious  ininiuture  of  the  seventh  century,  in  which  St.  Moni- 
molin is  represented  with  the  Scotch  or  Irish  tonsure,  which  had  been  the 
object  of  so  many  disputes,  and  St.  Bertin  with  the  Koman  tonsure  or  crown, 
and  holding  the  curved  cross,  which  was  then  common  to  abbots  and  bishops. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  629 

Berlin,  the  countryman  and  relation  of  Omer,  vied  with 
him  in  his  zeal  for  preaching  and  the  conversion  of  g^  ^^^^^.^ 
the  diocese  which  had  adopted  him.  The  rule  of  St.  '-- 
Columbanus  and  the  customs  of  Luxeuil  were  ob- 
served in  his  monastery,  where  there  were  now  two  hun- 
dred monks,  in  all  their  severity ;  he  exorcised,  like  Colum- 
banus himself,  an  irresistible  influence  over  the  nobles  who 
surrounded  him.  Aided  by  their  gifts,  and  the  unwearied 
diligence  of  his  monks,  he  at  last  succeeded,  by  successive 
elevations  of  the  soil,  in  transforming  the  vast  marsh  in  which 
he  had  established  himself  into  a  fertile  plain.  When  he 
gave  up  the  dignity  of  abbot,  which  he  had  held  for  fifty 
years,  in  order,  according  to  the  custom  of  most  of  the  holy 
founders  of  those  days,  to  prepare  himself  better  for  death, 
the  great  monastery  which  has  immortalized  his  name,  and 
produced  twenty-two  saints  venerated  by. the  Church,^^^  had 
attained  the  height  of  its  moral  and  material  prosperity. ^^ 
Of  all  the  swarms  from  the  inexhaustible  hive  of  Luxeuil, 
none  were  more  productive  or  brilliant  than  that  with  which 
these  four  Alaraans,  brought  from  the  frontiers  of  Helvetia 
to  the  shores  of  the'  North  Sea,  enriched  the  wild  Morinian 
country.  The  heirs  of  Columbanus  found  themselves  thus 
established  upon  the  soil  of  Belgium,  the  Christian  conquest 
of  which  was  half  to  do  over  again,  and  half  to  begin.  A 
noble  part  was  reserved  to  them  in  this  work,  which  they 
were  careful  not  to  fall  short  of.  • 

The  necessities  of  our  narrative  have  led  us  far  The  saints 
from  Luxeuil  to  seek  her  distant  colonies  or  scions  •   "'  ''«™""^- 


niont  in 

'68. 


we  must  now  return  to  her  neighborhood  to  point  the  vosj: 
out  the  house  which  was  perhaps  the  most  illustri-      gh  053. 

"^  Among  these  should  be  named  the  Armorican  Winnoc,  of  royal  race,  a 
disciple  of  St.  Bertin,  and  founder  of  the  monastery  and  town  which  bear  his 
name  —  Berujhes-Saint- Winnoc  or  Vinox.     He  died  in  (i'JG. 

»"*  The  BoUandists  (vol.  ii.  Sept.,  p.  549-G30)  have  clearly  elucidated  all 
that  belongs  to  the  life  of  St.  Bertin  and  his  various  biographies.  It  may  he 
observed  that  the  abbey  of  Sithiu  afterwards  took  the  name  of  St.  Bertin,  as 
happened  to  a  numberof  important  monasteries  which  were  named  from  their 
founder,  or  from  the  saint  whose  relics  were  venerated  there.  Thus  the 
name  of  Agaune  was  replaced  by  that  of  St.  Maurice,  Condat  hy  St.  Eugcnde 
(afterwards  St.  Claude),  Fontenelle  by  St.  Vandrille,  Glanfeuil  by  St.  Maur, 
LeuconaQs  by  St.  'falery,  Centule  by  St.  Kiquier,  Fleury  by  St.  Benoit-sur- 
Loire,  Habend  by  Eemiremont,  &c.  This  abbey  of  St.  Bertin,  at  tlrst  called 
Sithiu,  was  the  principal  abbey  of  Artois,  and  the  noblest  ornament  of  the 
city  of  St.  Omer,  the  municipality  of  which  destroyed  it  a  ftw  years  ago, 
under  pretence  of  giving  work  to  the  laborers.  —  Victor  Hcgo,  Guerre  au% 
Dsmolisseurs,  1852.  Enough  remains  of  this  immense  church  to  show  the 
pious  grandeur  of  past  generations,  and  the  stupid  Vandalism  of  their  de- 
scendants. 

53* 


630  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

ous  of  her  daughters.  Let  us  then  re-enter  that  south- 
ern  cluster  of  the  Vosges  which  marks  the  boundaries  of 
Austrasia  and  Burgundy,  and  where  rise,  not  far  from  each 
other,  the  Moselle  and  the  Meurthe,  the  Mouse  and  the  Saone. 
Upon  a  mountain  whose  base  is  bathed  by  the  clear  and  lim- 
pid waters  of  the  Moselle,  very  near  its  source,  amid  forests 
which,  a  century  ago,  were  still  inhabited  by  bears,^^^  and  at 
a  distance  of  some  leagues  north  from  Luxeuil,  rose  a  castle 

belonging  to  the  noble  Romaric.  This  wealthy  leude 
oraanc.  ^^^^  seen  his  property  confiscated  and  his  father 
slain  during  the  fratricidal  struggle  between  the  two  grand- 
sons of  Brunehault,  Thoodebert  and  Thierry  ;  but  after  the 
death  of  the  latter,  he  had  recovered  his  vast  patrimony  and 
occupied  a  high  position  at  the  court  of  Clotaire  11, ,  then 
sole  master  of  the  three  Frank  kingdoms.^^^ 

While  living  as  a  layman,  this  nobleman  already  practised 
all  the  virtues,  when  God  willed,  as  the  contemporary  nar- 
rator tells,  to  recompense  his  knight  for  the  valor  which  he 
had  displayed  in  the  struggles  of  the  world,  and  to  conduct 

him  to  the  fields  of  celestial  light.^'^''  Amatus,  a 
"^  "^'  monk  of  Luxeuil,  noble  like  himself,  but  of  Roman 
race,^*^  came  to  preach  in  Austrasia.  This  Amatus,  or  Ame, 
had  been  almost  from  his  cradle  offered  by  his  father  to  the 
monastery  of  Agaune,  which,  situated  near  the  source  of  the 
Rhine,  attracted  the  veneration  and  confidence  of  all  the 
faithful  of  the  proviyces  bordering  that  river.  He  had  lived 
thirty  years  either  at  Agaune  itself  or  in  an  isolated  cell 
upon  the  top  of  a  rock,  which  still  overhangs  the  celebrated 
monastery,  as  if  about  to  crush  it.  There  this  noble  Gallo- 
Roman,  always  barefooted  and  clad  in  a  sheep's  skin,  lived 
upon  water  and  barley-bread  alone ;  the  water  gushing  from 
a  limpid  fountain,  which  he  had  obtained  by  his  prayers,  was 
received  in  a  little  basin  which  he  had  hollowed  and  covered 
with  lead;  the  barley  was  the  produce  of  a  little  field  which 
he  cultivated  with  his  own  hands,  and  ground  by  turning  a 

^**  The  last  bear  killed  at  Reinircmont  was  in  1709. 

146  t.  Ivobilis  in  palatio  .  .  .  clanssimis  pareniibus  procreatus  ...  in 
Lotharii  regis  palatio  cum  caateris  t'lL'ctu.s."' —  Vita  S.  Romarici,  and.  mona- 
cho  suhpari,  in  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  ]>.,  vol.  ii.  p.  399.  "Qui  primus  inter  no- 
bik's  fuerat  apud  Theodeburtum  habitus."  —  Vita  S.  Eustasii,  auc  cocbvo  , 
Hid.,  p.  112. 

147  "  itieflt'abilis  Dcus,  vidcns  iiuliteni  snum  sub  tenebrosis  hujus  sseculi 
bollis  fortiter  belligerantem,  voluit  ilium  ad  lucidos  producere  campos."  — 
ibid.,  p.  399. 

''*^  "Nobilibus  natus  pareniibus,  ev  Hoiiiana  oriundus  stirpe,  in  suburbio 
Gratiauopolitana3  civitatis."  —  Vitct  S.  Amati,  c;.  ii. ;  Hid.,  p.  121. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  631 

millstone  with  his  arms,  like  the  slaves  of  antiquity.  This 
fatiguing  labor  was  to  him  a  preservative  against  sleep  and 
the  temptations  of  the  flesh.  Abbot  Eustace  of  Luxeuil,  re- 
turning from  Lorabardy  after  his  fruitless  mission  to  Colum- 
banus,  stopped  at  Agaune,  and  decided  Amatus  upon  following 
him  to  Luxeuil.  The  gentleness  of  the  anchorite,  his  elo- 
quence, and  even  the  noble  and  serene  beauty  of  his  features, 
won  all  hearts.^^^ 

Amatus  was  nominated  by  the  monks  of  Luxeuil,  on  ac- 
count of  his  eloquence,  to  bear  the  word  of  God  into  the 
Austrasian  cities.  Romaric  received  him  at  his  table,  and, 
during  the  repast,  inquired  of  him  the  best  way  of  working 
out  his  salvation.  "  Thou  seest  this  silver  dish,"  said  the 
monk;  "  how  many  masters,  or  rather  slaves,  has  it  already 
had,  and  how  many  more  shall  it  have  still?  And  thou, 
whether  thou  wilt  or  not,  thou  art  its  serf;  for  thou  possess- 
est  it  only  to  preserve  it.  But  an  account  will  be  demanded 
of  thee ;  for  it  is  written,  *  Your  silver  and  gold  shall  rust, 
and  that  rust  shall  bear  witness  against  you.'  I  am  aston- 
ished that  a  man  of  great  birth,  very  rich,  and  intelligent 
like  thyself,  should  not  remember  the  answer  of  the  Saviour 
to  him  who  asked  him  how  he  should  attain  eternal  life  :  *  If 
thou  wilt  be  perfect,  go,  sell  all  thou  hast  and  give  to  the 
poor,  and  follow  me ;  and  thou  shalt  have  treasure  in 
heaven.'  "  i^*^  From  that  moment  Romaric  was  van-  gomaric, 
quished  by  the  love  of  God  and  the  desire  of  heaven,  converted 
He  distributed  all  his  lands  to  the  poor,  with  the 
exception  of  his  castle  of  Habend,  freed  a  multitude  of  serfs 
of  both  sexes,  and  went  to  Luxeuil,  taking  with  him  all  that 
remained  of  his  wealth,  to  become  a  monk.  When  he  pre- 
sented himself  to  the  abbot  to  have  his  hair  cut,  according 
to  the  rite  of  admission  into  the  order,  several  of  the  serfs 
whom  he  had  liberated  appeared  at  the  monastery  for  the 
same  purpose.  He  gladly  recognized  his  old  servants,  not 
only  as  brethren,  but  as  superiors ;  for  he  sought  the  lowest 

149  u  Ijj  devexo  celsissimi  raontis  rupe  .  .  .  per  obliqiui  montis  saxosi  inter 
periculosos  scopulos  .  .  .  latitabat.  Cisternain  plunibeain.  .  .  .  Molani, 
quam  tunc  manu  agebat,  cum  canenti  ei  fessis  membris  somnus  obreperet 
.  .  .  ut  tentationem  carnis  vi^l  somnuiii  corporis  per  laborem  niolae  aWgeret. 
.  .  .  Serenas  vultu,  liilaris  adspectu,  praeclarus  et  celer  eloquio."  —  Vita  S. 
Amati,  p.  121. 

'^^  "  Cumque  jam  mensa  posita  esset,  coepit  inter  epulas  flagitare.  .  .  . 
Cernis  huncdiscum  argenteum;  quantos  iste  dudum  servos  habuit,  quantos- 
que  deinceps  habiturus  est.  Et  tu,  veils,  noils,  nunc  servus  suus  es.  .  .  . 
Ausculta  paululum,  vlr  bone :  cum  sis  nobilltate  parentura  excelsus,  divitiia 
inclytus,  ingenioque  sagax,  miror,  si  non  uosti,"&c.  —  Vita  S.  Amati,  p.  123. 


Kcniire- 
mont. 


632  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

occupations  in  the  monastery,  and  surpassed  all  the  brethren 
in  his  care  for  the  cultivation  of  the  gardens,  where  he  learned 
the  Psalter  by  heart  as  he  labored.^^^ 

After  some  years'  residence  there,  during  which  time  his 
friendship  with  Amatus  became  intimate  and  affectionate, 
the  two  friends  left  Luxeuil,  where,  for  some  unknown  rea- 
son, they  had  incurred  the  animadversion  of  Abbot  Eustace. 
With  his  consent,  however,  they  went  together  to  the  estate 
which  Romaric  had  reserved  to  himself  The  Castrum  Ha- 
hendi,  as  it  was  called,  had  been  once  a  Roman  fortress  ;  the 
remains  of  a  temple,  statues,  and  some  tombs,  were  still  visi- 
ble, as  at  Luxeuil,  upon  the  height  of  a  steep  hill,  situated 
between  two  valleys,  the  base  of  which  was  watered  by  two 

tributaries  of  the  Moselle.  They  built  a  church 
Habend,  or    there,  placed  as   many  as  seven  chapels  upon   the 

sides  of  the  hill,^-^^  and  afterwards  founded  there  the 
~-        greatest  female  monastery  which  had  been  seen  in 

Gaul.  Amatus  took  the  government  of  it,  but  soon 
devolved  it  upon  Romaric,  and  the  house  was  called,  after 
the  latter,  Remiremont.i^^ 

In  this  celebrated  abbey,  which  was  immediately  put  un- 
der the  rule  of  St.  Columbanus  by  its  two  founders,  every- 
thing was  established   on  a  magnificent  scale,  owing  to  the 

151  "  iiios  deniqiie  servulos  quos  dudum  niinistros  habuerat,  socios  sibi 
detondens  plerosque  adjunxit;  et  effectus  est  illoruni  siibditus,  quorum  prius 
dominus  praepotens  fuerat.  .  .  .  Ut  quidquid  despicabile  in  nionasterio  agen- 
dum esset,  ipse  adsumeret.  Hortorum  tainen  frequentius  prje  ceteris  fratri- 
bus  operator  exsistens,  psalmos  jugiter  tradebat  memori^."  —  Vita  S. 
Romarici,  p.  400. 

'"^'See  for  these  details  the  excellent  Etude  flistorique  sur  VAbhaye  d« 
Remiremont,  by  M.  A.  Guinot,  cure  of  Contrexevilie  (Paris,  185!))  one  of 
the  best  monographs  which  have  been  published  on  a  monastic  subject. 

'°^  Romarici  Mons.  But  the  abbey  of  Remiremont  bears,  in  early  docu- 
ments, the  name  of  Monasterium  Habendense.  This  first  monastery,  built 
by  Amatus  upon  the  Hoiy  Mount,  was  destroyed  by  the  Huns.  Re-estab- 
lished by  the  Emperor  Louis  III.  beyond  the  Moselle  and  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  it  became  the  nucleus  of  the  existing  town  of  Remiremont.  The 
nuns  were  afterwarils  changed  into  noble  canonesses,  but  always  under  the 
rule  of  St.  Benedict.  The  abbess  alone  took  the  perpetual  vows.  The 
others  could  marry  and  return  to  the  world.  The  proofs  of  nobility  required 
before  a  candidate  was  admitted  were  so  difficult  that  Remiremont  was  reck- 
oned among  the  most  illustrious  chapters  in  Europe.  To  mark  the  difl'erence 
between  the  different  cliapters  of  women  in  that  age  of  decay,  when  the 
most  venerable  institutions  of  Catholic  antiquity  had  lost  the  true  meaning 
of  their  existence,  they  were  named  thus  :  the  ladies  of  Remiremont,  the 
chamhevmaids  of  Epinal,  and  the  laundresses  of  Poussey  :  and  that,  not- 
withstanding tliat  eight  paternal  and  eight  maternal  quarterings  were  neces- 
sary lor  admission  to  Poussey.  The  abbess  of  Remiremont  ranked  as  a 
princess  of  the  Holy  Empire  from  the  time  of  Rudolph  of  Hapsburg. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  633 

influx  of  the  nuns  and  the  liberality  of  the  Austratuan  kin<:^s 
and  nobles.  Clotaire  11.  gave,  atone  time,  the  enormous  sura 
of  two  hundred  pieces  of  gold  to  the  foundation  of  his  ancient 
leudc.  Remiremont  soon  became  for  women  what  Luxeuil 
already  was  for  men.  The  number  of  nuns  permitted  the 
Laus  perennis  to  be  organized  by  means  of  seven  choirs, 
who  alternately  sang  the  praises  of  God  in  seven  different 
churches  or  chapels.  The  fervor  and  regularity  of  all  these 
virgins  procured  to  the  site  occupied  by  their  community 
the  name  of  the  Holy  3Iou7ii,  which  it  retained  for  some  cen- 
turies. 

Romaric  directed  it  for  thirty  years.     Before  en-  Romaric 
tering  Luxeuil  he  had  been  married,  and  had  three   iiisdau<'-h- 

tcr   iind 

daughters  ;  the  two  younger  took  the  veil  in  the  gra'nit- 
monastery  of  their  father.  The  eldest,  who  had  •''"''^'■^^■ 
married  without  the  consent  of  Romaric,  and  without  a  for- 
tune, attempted  to  reclaim  a  portion  of  her  paternal  inheri- 
tance. She  sent  to  her  father  her  first  child,  a  girl,  hoping 
that  the  heart  of  Romaric  would  soften,  and  that  he  would 
bestow  on  his  grandchild  what  he  had  refused  to  his  daugh- 
ter. The  grandfather  received  her  with  joy,  but  did  not 
send  her  back,  and  had  her  trained  by  the  nuns,  whose  abbess 
she  afterwards  became.  Then  the  mother,  having  had  a  son, 
sent  him,  before  he  was  even  baptized,  to  his  grandfather, 
still  in  the  hope  that  he  would  make  him  his  heir.  But  Ro- 
maric acted  with  him  as  with  his  sister ;  he  kept  the  child, 
and  left  him  no  other  inheritance  than  that  of  the  abbatial 
dignity  with  which  he  was  invested. ^^^ 

For  there  were  two  monasteries  at  Remiremont, 
one  for  monks  and  the  other  for  nuns,  connected  monaster- 
with   each   other,  but  with  a  special    superior  for  *'^^' 
each  of  the  communities.     This  was  also  the  case  at  Jouarre, 
at  Faremoutier,  and  wherever  there  were   great  foundations 
for  women.    Sometimes,  as  at  Remiremont,  the  abbot  had  the 
supreme  government ;  sometimes,  as  we  shall  see  in  Belgium; 
it  was  the  abbess.     The  prohibition  of  the  Council  of  Agde, 
m   506,1^^  had,  by    necessity  of  things,  fallen   into   disuse. 

'**  "  Expers  haereditariae  sortis  absque  patris  consilio  mipsit.  .  .  .  Spcrans 
hoc  modo  elicere,  quatenus  hasreditutis  pignus,  quod  sibi  jure  competebat 
hffireditario,  restitueret  puellas.  .  .  .  Puerulum,  quern  post  paulo  pepererat, 
transmisit  avo  baptisandum,  atque  ad  relictas  possessionis  hsredem  coiistitu- 
endum." —  Vita  S.  J.cZe?^/iu,  ap.  Boli-and.,  t.  iii.  Sept.,  p.  818.  "  Nupsit  _ 
nobilissimo  splendidissimoque  cuidam  e  Sicambroruni  gent«,  cui  Bilhylinua 
nomen."  —  Ibid.,  p.  811. 

i»o  "Monasteria  puellarum  longius  a  monasteriis  monacboruni,  aut  propter 
insjdias  diaboli,  aut  propter  oblocutiones  hominuui,  colloccntur."  —  Can.  28 


634  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

The  ranks  of  tliat  feminine  clergy,  whose  sacrifice  tha 
Church  praises  in  the  liturgy,  increased  every  day.i^^  It 
was  necessar}^  at  once  to  protect  and  guide  the  weakness 
of  these  spouses  of  Christ  who  had  taken  refuge  in  forests 
and  deserts,  surrounded  by  wild  beasts  or  barbarous  and 
semi-pagan  tribes.  In  the  seventh  century,  and  still  later, 
the  Church  did  nothing  but  encourage  that  custom  which 
disappeared  in  due  time,  and  even  before  any  scandal  had 
pointed  out  the  unsuitable  nature  of  the  arrangement,  in 
those  monastic  annals  where  everything  is  spoken  out  with 
bold  and  minute  frankness.  To  systematic  enemies  of  Catho- 
lic discipline,  and  to  sceptics  who  may  be  tempted  to  smile, 
let  us  recall  the  touching  and  noble  spectacle,  so  much  ad- 
mired and  praised  a  thousand  years  after  the  foundation  of 
Remiremont,  given  by  the  solitaries  of  Port-Royal  during 
their  sojourn  near  the  nuns  of  that  celebrated  valley.  And  a 
voice,  which  cannot  be  suspected,  elsewhere  bears  witness 
thus  :  "  The  vicinity  of  the  monasteries,"  says  M.  Michelet, 
"  the  abuses  of  which  have  certainly  been  exaggerated, 
created  between  the  brethren  and  sisters  a  happy  emulation 
of  study  as  well  as  of  piety.  The  men  tempered  their  seri- 
ousness by  sharing  in  the  moral  graces  of  the  women.  They, 
on  their  side,  took  from  the  austere  asceticism  of  the  men  a 
noble  flight  towards  divine  things.  Both,  according  to  the 
noble  expression  of  Bossuet,  helped  each  other  to  climb  the 
rugged  path."  ^^^ 

This  monastery  of  men,  also  placed  under  the  rule  of  Co- 
lumbanus  by  its  two  founders,  was  not  the  less  on  that  ac- 
count unfavorable  to  the  spirit  of  the  Irish  rule.  When  Agres- 
tinus  attempted  to  organize  among  the  numerous  disciples 
of  Columbanus  an  insurrection  against  the  traditions  of  their 
master  and  the  discipline  of  Luxeuil,  he  fell  back  upon  Re- 
miremont after  he  had  been  overcome  by  Eustace  at  the 
Council  of  Macon  and  repulsed  by  Burgundofara  at  Faremou- 
„    tier.     He  was  well   received  by  Amatus  and  Ro- 

Success  of  .  1  1      1  •  1  • 

theschis-      maric,  who  Were  already  biased  against  the  abbot 

Agrestinat  of  Luxeuil,  and  still   better  by  their  monks,  who 

montl'^         showed  themselves  unanimous  in  their  repugnance 

.--        to  the    institutions    of  Columbanus.i^^      Fatal  and 

numerous  accidents,  of  which  more  than  fifty  of  the 

163  t'Ora  pro  populo,  interveni  pro  clero,  intercede  pro  devoto  femineo 
eexu." 

'^'  Michelet,  Mcmoire  sur  V Education  dcs  Femmes  au  Moyen  Age.  Read 
at  the  meeting  of  the  Five  Academies,  May  2,  1838. 

158  "  In  contemptum  regulae  B.  Columbani.  .  .  .  Cum  ad  hoc  jam  omnes 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  635 

Religious  were  victims,  some  torn  by  mad  wolves  or  struck 
by  lightning,  others  urged  to  suicide  or  violent  deaths,  were 
necessary  to  lead  them  back.  All  these  mistbrtanes,  happen- 
ing in  such  rapid  succession,  appeared  warnings  from  on 
liigli,  and  the  disgraceful  death  of  Agrestinus  himself  opened 
their  eyes  completely.  Amatus  and  Romaric  returned  into 
communion  with  Eustace.  The  former  continued  to  watch 
over  the  administration  of  the  two  houses,  though  he  had 
given  up  their  immediate  direction.  He  was  especially  so- 
licitous to  root  out  from  among  these  spiritual  children  the 
sin  of  individual  property.  "  My  dear  and  gentle  brother," 
he  said  one  day  to  a  monk  who  passed  near  him,  "  I  much 
fear  that  the  cunning  of  the  enemy  has  persuaded  thee  to 
something  against  the  rule."  And  as  the  monk  protested 
against  this,  Amatus  took  between  his  fingers  the  edge  of  the 
delinquent's  cowl  precisely  at  the  spot  where  he  had  sewn  in 
a  piece  of  money  with  the  intention  of  reserving  it  for  his 
personal  use.  "  What  have  you  here,  dear  brother?"  The 
monk,  falling  on  his  knees,  cried,  "  Woe  is  me  !  1  confess 
that  I  have  stolen  the  tliird  part  of  a  denier  of  gold."  Ac- 
cording to  the  monastic  spirit,  it  was  a  theft  made  from  the 
community;  but  Amatus  pardoned  the  culprit,  saying  to  him, 
"  Let  him  that  stole  steal  no  more."  He  condemned  himself 
to  make  a  public  confession  before  his  death,  no  doubt  in 
recollection  of  his  weakness  towards  the  schismatic  Agres- 
tinus, and  his  struggles  against  his  abbot  at  Lux-  „  ., 
euil.i^^  However,  Amatus  himself  had  retired  into  and  death 
a  grotto,  closed  up  by  a  projecting  rock,  so  low  and  ™*  "  ' 
so  narrow  that  it  could  scarcely  contain  him.  As  in  the  case 
of  St.  Benedict  at  Subiaco,  a  monk  lowered  down  to  him,  by 
a  cord  from  the  top  of  the  rock,  the  morsel  of  bread  and  glass 
of  water  on  which  he  lived.  This  severe  penance  was  not 
enough  for  him.  When  he  was  dying,  upon  a  bed  September 
of  ashes,  he"  had  the  letter  of  the  Pope  St.  Leo  to  St.  i-^,  fi^?- 
Flav»ian,  which  contains  a  clear  and  complete  exposition  of 
Catholic  doctrine  upon  the  Trinity  and  Licarnation,  read 
to  him,  as  a  last  and  solemn  protest  against  every  germ  of 
schism. 

adspirarent  ut  contemptus  pristinarum  assentatores  forent  institutionum." — 
Jonas,  Vita  S.  Uustasii,  c.  13-15. 

159  ii  Frater  mi  .  .  .  vereor,  dulcissime  meus.  .  .  .  Oram,  cucullae  tenens, 
utroque  digito  nine  inde  coniplexus  consutum  infra  trientem  reperit.  .  .  . 
Hoc  ergo  quod  hahes,  frater  mi?  .  .  .  Heumihi!  tremissem  furatus  sum. 
.  .  .  Quoiiiam  de  quibusdam  factis  meis  me  oportet  pcenitere  et  libet. '  -- 
riia  S.  AmoH,  c.  21-23. 


636  ST.   COLUMBANUS. 

As  for  Romaric,  who  long  survived  both  him  and  the  pious 
Mactefleda,  the  first  ruler  of  the  sisters,  he  took  all  necessary 
precautions  to  insure  the  election  of  the  abbess  of  his  be- 
loved monastery  exclusively  by  her  own  community,  and  that 
this  entire  foundation  should  rely  in  temporal  matters  only 
on  the  king,  and  in  spiritual  affairs  only  on  the  pope.  At  the 
end  of  his  life  the  old  warrior  regained  his  courage  and  the 
political  part  he  had  played  of  old.  He  had  known,  in  the 
palace  of  the  kings  of  Austrasia,  the  great  and  pious  Pepin 
Rorr.aric  de  Landeu,  whose  son,  Grimoald,  had  become  all- 
minister  powerful,  as  minister  under  King  Sigisbert,  and 
Grinioaid.  threatened  beforehand  the  rights  and  even  the  life 
of  the  young  heir  of  this  prince.  Prophetically  warned  of 
the  projects  entertained  by  the  sou  of  his  old  friend,  Romaric, 
despite  his  age  and  presentiment  of  approaching  death,  de- 
scended from  his  mountain  and  took  his  way  to  the  palace 
which  he  had  not  seen  for  thirty  years,  to  intimate  the  perils 
of  the  country  to  the  king  and  nobles.  He  arrived  in  the 
middle  of  the  night:  Grimoald,  on  being  informed  of  his  ap- 
proach, went  to  meet  him  with  lighted  torches.  At  sight  of 
bis  father's  friend,  of  this  old  man  of  God,  with  his  elevated 
and  imposing  height  and  solemn  aspect,  he  thought  he  saw, 
says  the  historian,  a  supernatural  apparition,  and  trembled. 
However,  he  embraced  him  with  great  respect.  What  passed 
between  them  has  not  been  recorded.  It  is  only  known  that 
Grimoald  overwhelmed  the  old  abbot  with  presents,  and  prom- 
ised to  do  all  that  he  Avished.  Three  days  after,  Romaric, 
who  had  returned  to  the  monastery,  visited  for  the  last  time, 
December  OH  his  Way,  the  Cultivated  lands  which  belonged  to 
8,  C53.  it^  ij^rjig  dead,  and  buried  beside  Amatus,  the  master 

and  friend  who  had  led  him  to  God  by  the  rugged  path}^^ 

To  complete  this  rapid  glance  over  the  extension  of  the 
great  institute  of  Columbauus  in  Prankish  Gaul  in  the  seventh 
century,  it  has  yet  to  be  shown  how,  after  having  spread 
through  both  the  Burgundies  and  Austrasia,  and  gatning 
Armorica,  where  the  British  Celts  naturally  adopted  with  cor- 
diality the  work  of  the  Irish  Celt,i*'i  [^  extended  over  Neu- 

160  u  ^j  principis  palatium  .  .  .  ut  regi  seu  proceribus  suis  de  perioulo 
eoTum  vel  oasu  venture  cavenda  nuntiaret.  .  .  .  Vir  magnificus  Grimoaldus 
Bubregulus.  .  .  .  Surgens  cum  facibus  accensis  .  .  .  adspiciensque  homi- 
iiem  Dei  niirae  magnitudinis,  nescio  quid  tanquam  angelicuni  seu  coeleste 
sigmim  se  super  eum  videsse  contremuit.  .  .  .  Indeque  remeans  rura  monas- 
terii  circuivit."  —  Vita  S.  Romarici,  c.  11. 

'*'  La  Bouderie,  Discours  sur  les  Sainis  de  Bretagne,  p.  23.  However, 
few  direct  references  to  this  adoption  of  the  Colunibanic  rule  by  Arniorica-'i 
monasteries  are  to  be  found. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  637 

Bti'iii,  beyond  the  Loire,  and  as  far  as  Aquitaino  ;  ^^2  ^nd  for  that 
purpose   the  foundation  of  Solignao,  in  Limousin,  by  St.  Eli- 
gius,  must  be  specially  told.  Tt  took  place  soon  after 
the  Council  of  Macon.     Its  illustrious  founder,  who   founds" 
had  visited   the   principal    monasteries  in  Gaul  and   i^pontile 
had  perceived  that  mr)nastic  order  was  nowhere  else   n»orieiof 
observed  as  it  was  in  Luxeuil,  ^''-^  declared  his  desire        — 
to  conform  it  absolutely  to  the  plan  and  rule  of  the  '  ' 

model  abbey  which  he  found  in  the  Vosges,  and  to  which  ho 
placed  it  in  direct  subordination.  But  this  great  man  be- 
longs still  more  to  the  history  of  France  than  to  that  of  the 
rule  of  Luxeuil.  With  him  we  touch  upon  a  new  phase  of 
the  Merovingian  royalty,  as  with  the  apostles  of  Morinia  we 
are  brought  in  contact  with  the  conversion  of  Belgium,  and 
with  the  founder  of  Remiremont  approach  the  accession  and 
preponderance  of  the  Pepins.  New  scenes  open  before  us. 
To  enter  them,  we  must  leave  Luxeuil  and  Columbanus,  of 
whom,  however,  we  shall  find  elsewhere  many  a  luminous 
and  important  trace. 

But  before  closing  this  chapter  of  our  narrative,   ^vhy  was 
it  is  necessary  to  establish  a  result  as  unforeseen  as  the  rule  of 
undeniable.     It  seems  that  everything  in  the  his-  banusre- 
tory  we  have  just  related  ought  to  have  secured  the  ippia'ced^by 
lasting  preponderance  of  the  rule  and  institute  of  Co-  ^j^g^^gf^" 
lumbanus  in  the  countries  governed  by  the  Franks. 
A  popularity  so  great  and   legitimate,  the  constant  favor  of 
the  Merovingian  kings,  the  generous  sympathy  of  the  Bur- 
gundian  and  Austrasian  nobility,  the  virtues  and  miracles  of 
so  many  saints,  the  immense  and  perpetually  renewed  ramifi 
cations  of  Luxeuil  and  its  offspring,  all  should  have  contrib- 
uted to  establish  the  ascendency  of  a  monastic  law  originat- 
ed upon  the  soil  of  Gaul,  and  extended  by  representatives  so 
illustrious  ;  —  all  ought  to  have  procured  it  a  preference  over 
that  Italian  rule,  which  was  older,  it  is  true,  but  the  modest 
beginnings  and  obscure   progress  of  which  in  Gaul  have  es- 
caped the  notice  of  history.     This,  however,  was  not  the 
case.     On  the  contrary,  the  rule  of  Columbanus  was  gradu- 
ally eclipsed,  and  the  rule  of  Benedict  was  introduced  and 
triumphed  everywhere,  while  still  we  cannot  instance  a  sin- 

'**  See  the  Vita  S.  Eustasii,  by  Jonas,  for  the  five  monasteries  built  in 
Berry  and  Nivernais,  immediately  after  the  Council  of  Macon,  ex  regula  B. 
Columbani. 

'®*  See  the  passage  quoted,  p.  589.  S.  Audoeni,  Vita  S.  Eligii,  book  L 
0.  21. 

VOL.  I.  64 


638  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

gle  man  above  the  ordinary  mark,  a  single  celebrated  saint, 
who  could  have  contributed  to  that  surprising  victory,  by  his 
personal  influence,  throughout  the  whole  period  which  we 
have  surveyed.  This  victory  was  complete  half  a  century 
after  the  death  of  the  founder  of  Luxeuil,  and  ainid  the  daily 
successes  and  increasing  popularity  of  his  disciples.  Among 
those  disciples  themselves,  some  of  the  first  and  nearest  to 
his  heart,  such  as  his  godson  Donatus,  had  begun  to  combine 
the  Benedictine  precepts  with  his.  The  two  monasteries 
which  he  had  himself  originated  and  dv/elt  in,  Luxeuil  and 
l>cbbio,i'^^  under  his  own  immediate  successors,  suffered  or 
aocopted  its  sway,  and  extended  it  through  their  colonies. 
The  illustrious  Eligius,  while  he  formed  his  Limousin  Ibunda- 
tion  in  exact  imitation  of  Luxeuil,  took  care  to  speoiiy  in  its 
chaiter  that  the  monks  were  to  follow  at  the  same  time  the 
rules  of  both  the  blessed  fathers  Benedict  and  Columbanus.i'^s 
The  same  stipulation  is  found  of  more  and  more  frequent  re- 
currence in  deciding  what  order  was  to  be  adopted  in  the 
colonies  of  Luxeuil. ^^^^  In  this  great  monastic  enlistment, 
which  was  cai-ried  on  among  the  flower  of  the  Gallo-Frank 
population  during  the  whole  of  the  seventh  century,  it  was 
Columbanus  who  raised  the  recruits  and  set  them  out  on  the 
march  ;  but  it  was  Benedict  who  disciplined  them,  and  gave 
them  the  flag  and  the  watchword.  Where  Columbanus 
sowed,  it  was  Benedict  who  reaped.  The  Benedictine  rule 
was  gradually  and  everywhere  placed  side  by  side  with  that 
of  Columbanus,  then  substituted  for  his,  until  at  length  the 
latter  dwindled  further  and  further  into  distance,  like  an 
antique  and  respectable  memory,  from  which  life  had  ebbed 
away.     " 

At   Autun,    in    670,   in   the    heart  of  that    Burgundy  of 

"*  Mabillon,  PrcBfat.  in  IV.  Seec.  We  have  already  said  that  Mabilloii 
goes  so  far  as  to  assert  that  Columbanus  himself  introduced  the  Benediciizie 
rule  at  Bobbio,  but  without  furnishing  the  least  proof  of  his  assertion. 

'*'  "  Ea  tamen  conditione  ut  vos  vel  successores  vestri  tramitem  religitjnis 
sanctissimorum  virorum  Luxoviensis  monasterii  consequamini,  et  rcgulani 
heatissimorum  Patrum  Benedict!  et  Columbani  firmiter  teneatis." 

'®®  Particularly  at  Hautvilliers,  Beze,  Maurmunster,  Corbie,  and  at  the 
Monasteriiim  Fossatense,  near  Paris,  since  so  celebrated  as  yt.  Maur-les- 
Fosses.  In  a  charter  of  641,  the  nuns  of  the  latter  house  are  described  as 
living  "  sub  regula  S.  Benedict!  ad  modum  et  similitudinera  monasterii  Luxo- 
vitnsis." — Annul.  Benedict.,  lib.  xii.  c.  58.  See  also  the  charter  of  St. 
Amand  for  the  monastery  of  Barisy,  near  Laon :  "  Ubi  coenobium  sub  reg- 
vla  Domini  Benedicti  sen  Domni  Columbani  constituere  inchoavinius."  — 
Ap.  Act.  SS.  O.  S.  B.,  t.  ii.  p.  1044 ;  and  that  of  the  Bishop  of  Ciialons  foi 
Montier-en-Der :  "  Si  tepide  egerunt  .  .  .  secundum  regulam  sancti  Bene- 
dicti vel  Domni  Columbani  corrigantur." —  Ibid.,  t.  iii.  p  570. 


ST.   COLUMBANUS.  G39 

which  Cohimbanus  seemed  destined  to  be  the  mo-  xiiecouu- 
nastic  legislator,  in  a  council  of  fifty-fonr  bishops,  tun°rccds- 
held  by  St.  Les-er,  who  had  himself  lived  at  Luxenil,   nizesno" 

*  ■  rulGDut 

six  canons  were  given  forth  exclusively  relative  to  that  of  st. 
monastic  discipline;  in  which  the  observation  and  '^™*^^"=*- 
fulfilment,  in  all  their  fulness,  of  the  precepts  of  the  canons  of 
the  Church  and  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict  are  enjoined  upon  all 
the  Religious;  and  the  Council  adds:  "  If  these  are  legiti 
raately  and  fully  observed  by  the  abbots  and  monasteries, 
the  number  of  the  monks  will  always  increase  by  the  grace 
of  God,  and  the  whole  world  will  be  saved  from  the  contagion 
of  sin  by  their  incessant  prayers."  ^'^'^  The  Gallo-Frank  Church 
thus  proclaimed  its  unqualified  adhesion  to  the  rule  which 
St.  Maur  had  brought  from  Latium  a  hundred  and  twenty 
years  before  :  the  great  Irish  monk  had  scarcely  been  fifty 
years  dead,  and  already  no  mention  is  made  either  of  his  rule 
or  his  person. 

How  can  we  explain  this  complete  and  universal  substitu- 
tion of  Benedictine  influence  for  that  of  the  Hibernian  legis- 
lator, even  in  his  own  foundations ;  and  that,  we  repeat, 
without  the  appearance  of  any  mind  of  the  highest  stamp  ex- 
clusivel}'-  devoted  to  the  traditions  of  Monte  Cassino?  Must 
it  be  attributed  to  the  individual  and  national  spirit,  from 
which  Columbanus  either  could  not  or  would  not  completely 
separate  himself?  Was  this  the  hidden  vice  which  consumed 
the  vitality  of  his  work?  No,  certainly  ;  for  if  this  powerful 
Individuality  had  inspired  the  least  dislike,  he  could  not  have 
attracted,  during  his  life,  nor  after  his  death,  that  myriad  of 
disciples,  more  numerous,  and  especially  more  illustrious, 
than  all  those  of  Benedict. 

We  must  then  seek  the  reason  of  his  failure  elsoAvhere,  and 
it  is  to  be  found,  in  our  opinion,  in  the  much  closer  and  more 
intimate  union  of  the  Benedictine  Rule  with  the  authority  of 
the  Roman  See.  We  have  proved  that  neither  in  Columba- 
nus nor  among  his  disciples  and  offspring,  was  there  any  hos- 
tility to  the  Holy  See.  and  we  have  quoted  proofs  of  the  re. 
spect  of  the  popes  for  his  memory.  Nor  had  Benedict,  any 
more  than  Columbanus,  either  sought  or  obtained  during  his 

'^^  "  De  abbatibus  vero  vel  monachis  ita  observare  convenit,  ut  quidquid 
canonicus  ordo  vel  regula  S.  Benedict!  edocet,  et  implere,  et  custodire  in 
omnibus  debeant :  si  enim  haBC  omnia  fuerint  legitime  apud  abbates  et  mo- 
nasteria,  et  numerus  monachorum  Deo  propitio  augebitur,  et  mundus  oinnis, 
per  eorum  orationes  assiduas,  malis  carebit  contagiis."  The  date  of  this 
Council  is  not  certain  :  some  place  it  in  666,  others  in  670  or  674.  MabilloD 
inclines  towards  this  latter  date. 


640  ST.    COLUMBANUS. 

lifetime  the  sovereign  sanction  of  the  Papacy  for  his  institu- 
tion. But  long  after  his  death,  and  at  the  very  time  when 
Columbanus  was  busied  in  planting  his  work  in  Gaul,  the 
saint  and  the  man  of  genius  who  occupied  the  chair  of  St. 
Peter,  Gtv^gory  the  Great,  had  spontaneously  impressed  the 
seal  of  supreme  approbation  upon  the  Benedictine  Rule.  This 
adoption  of  the  work  Gregory  had  preluded  b}'  the  celebra- 
tion of  its  author  in  those  famous  Dialogues,  the  popularity  of 
which  was  to  be  so  great  in  all  Catholic  communities.  The 
third  successor  of  Gregory,  Boniface  IV.,  in  a  council  held 
at  Rome  in  610,  and  by  a  famous  decree  which  we 
tiie"cou°ncii  reproach  ourselves  for  not  having  mentioned  before, 
of  Rome  in  ^^(j  condemned  those  who,  moved  more  by  jealousy 
'- — '  than  charity,  held  that  the  monks,  being  dead  to  the 
''^^'  world  and  living  only  for  God,  were  by  that  reason 
rendered  unworthy  and  incapable  of  exercising  the  priest- 
hood and  administering  the  sacraments.  The  decree  of  this 
Council  recognizes  the  power  of  binding  and  loosing  in  monks 
lawfully  ordained,  and,  to  confound  the  foolish  assumptions 
of  their  adversaries,  quotes  the-  example  of  St.  Gregory  the 
Great,  who  had  not  been  kept  back  from  the  Supreme  See 
by  his  monastic  profession,  and  of  many  others  who  under 
the  monastic  frock  had  already  worn  the  pontifical  ring.  But 
it  especially  appeals  to  the  authority  of  Benedict,  whom  it 
describes  as  **  the  venerable  legislator  of  the  monks,"  and  who 
had  interdicted  them  only  from  interference  in  secular  af- 
fairs.i*^^  It  proclaims  anew,  and  on  the  most  solemn  occasion, 
that  the  Rule  of  Benedict  was  the  supreme  monastic  law.  It 
impresses  a  new  sanction  upon  all  the  prescriptions  of  him 
whom  another  pope,  John  IV.,  the  same  who  exempted  Lux- 
euil  from  episcopal  authority,  called,  thirty  years  later,  the 
abbot  of  the  city  of  Home.^^^ 

itisidcnti-  Thus  adopted  and  honored  by  the  Papacy,  and 
fhoauthori-  i(^entified  in  some  sort  with  the  authority  of  Rome 
tyof  the  itself,  the  influence  of  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict  pro- 
MdfhuslJe-  gressed  with  the  progress  of  the  Roman  Church.  I 
Bup/eme^  am  awars  that  up  to  the  seventh  century,  the  inter- 
ruie.  vention  of  the  popes  in  the  affairs  of  the  Church  in 

^*®  "  Sunt  nonnulli  stulti  dogmatis.  .  .  .  Apostolici  compar  sedis  B.  Gre- 
gorius  nionachico  cultu  polk-ns  ad  sunmium  nullateiius  apicem  conscenderet. 
Alii  quoque  sanctissinii  pretiosissimo  tiionnclioruni  habitu  fulgentes  nequa- 
^iiani  annulo  pontificali  suborbarcntur.  —  Neque  Benedictus  rnouachorura 
prseccptor  almificus." — Coletti   Concil.,  t.  vi,  p.  1355. 

169  "Et  baud  procul  a  iiosiris  tiinporibus  Beiiedicti  abbatis  istius  Romas 
hujus  urbis." — Cbarter  ot  eMnijJiion  pviii  lo  a  female  raonastery  at  tlie 
request  of  King  Clovis  11.     Annal.  BeittUict.,  t.  ii.,  Append.,  p.  688. 


ST.    COLUMBANUS.  641 

France  wais  muc^.  less  sought  and  less  efficacious  than  in 
after  ages  ;  but  h  was  ah'eady  undoubtedly  sovereign,  and 
more  than  sufficiont  to  win  the  assent  of  all  to  a  specially 
Roman  institutioL. 

Without  weakening  the  foregoing  argument,  anotlier  ex- 
planation might  be  admitted  for  the  strange  course  of  things 
which,  in  the  spnce  of  a  single  century,  eclipsed  the  rule  and 
name  of  Columbanus,  and  changed  into  Benedictine  monas- 
teries all  the  foundations  due  to  the  powerful  missionary  im- 
pulse of  the  Irish  Apostle.  The  cause  which  produced  in 
Western  Chri^^tendom  the  supremacy  of  St,  Benedict's  insti- 
tute over  that  of  his  illustrious  rival,  was  most  likely  the 
same  which  uiade  the  Rule  of  St.  Basil  to  prevail  over  all  the 
other  monastic  Rules  of  the  East — namely,  its  moderation, 
its  prudence,  and  the  more  liberal  spirit  of  its  government. 
When  the  t^v'o  legislatures  of  Monte  Cassino  and  of  Luxeuil 
met  together,  it  must  have  been  manifest  that  the  latter  ex- 
ceeded the  flatural  strength  of  man,  in  its  regulations  relating 
to  prayer,  xo  food,  and  to  penal  discipline,  and,  above  all,  in 
its  mode  ol  government.  St.  Benedict  had  conquered  by  the 
strength  o/  practical  sense,  which  in  the  end  always  wins 
the  day. 

One  of  those  great  rivers,  which,  like  the  Moselle  or  the 
Saone,  have  their  source  near  Luxeuil  itself,  offers  a  meet 
s3'ml)ol  of  che  fate  which  awaited  the  work  of  St.  Columbanus. 
We  see  ir.  first  spring  up,  obscure  and  unknown,  from  the 
foot  of  the  hills  ;  we  see  it  then  increase,  extend,  grow  into  a 
broad  and  fertilizing  current,  watering  and  flowing  through 
vast  and  numerous  provinces.  We  expect  it  to  continue  in- 
deiinitely  its  independent  and  beneficent  course.  But,  vain 
delusion!  Lo,  another  stream  comes  pouring  onward  from  the 
other  extremity  of  the  horizon,  to  attract  and  to  absorb  its 
rival,  to  draw  it  along,  to  swallow  up  even- its  name,  and,  re- 
plenishing its  own  strength  and  life  by  these  captive  waters, 
to  pursue  alone  and  victorious  its  majestic  course  towards 
the  ocean.  Thus  did  the  current  of  Columbanus's  triumphant 
institution  sink  into  the  forgotten  tributary  of  that  great 
Benedictine  stream,  which  henceforward  flowed  forth  alone 
to  cover  Gaul  and  all  the  West  with  its  regenerating  tide. 
54* 


BOOK   VIII. 

CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF  THE  BRITISH   ISLES. 


Enlarge  the  place  of  thy  teut,  and  let  them  stretch  forth  the  curtains  of  thine  habita- 
tions :  spare  not,  lengthen  thy  cords,  and  strengtiicn  thy  stakes  :  for  thou  shalt  breuB 
forth  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left;  and  thy  seed  sliall  inherit  the  Gentiles,  and 
make  the  desolate  cities  to  be  inhabited." —  Isaiah  liv.  2,  3. 


CHAPTER  I. 

GREAT  BRITAIN  BEFORE  THE  CONVERSION  OF  THE  SAXONS. 

Character  of  the  English  nation.  —  Heir  of  the  Romans,  it  borrows  from 
them  only  their  grandeur  and  their  pride.  —  From  whence  comes  its  reli- 
gion? From  popes  and  monks. — England  has  been  made  by  monks,  as 
France  by  bishops.  —  The  heroes  who  resisted  the  Empire :  Caractacus, 
Boadicea,  Galgacus.  —  No  trace  of  Roman  law  exists  in  Britain ;  all  is 
Celtic  or  Teutonic.  —  Britain  the  first  of  the  Western  nations  which  could 
live  without  Rome,  and  the  first  which  could  resist  the  barbarians.  — Rav- 
ages of  the  Picts.  —  Gildas.  —  Arrival  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  in  Britain. — 
Their  destruction  of  primitive  Christianity.  —  Origin  of  Britisli  Christian- 
ity. —  The  proto-martyr  St.  Alban.  —  Ravages  of  tiie  Saxons.  —  Liberal 
aid  given  by  the  Papacy.  —  Mission  of  Palladius,  and  afterwards  of  St. 
Germain  of  Auxerre.  —  Battle  of  the  Hallelujah.  —  The  Briton  Ninian 
becomes  the  apostle  of  the  Southern  Picts. —  His  establishment  at  White- 
horn. —  Ferocity  of  the  Caledonians.  —  His  death.  —  Glastonbury  :  legend 
of  Joseph  of  Arimathea :  tomb  of  King  Arthur.  —  Position  of  Britain  be- 
tween the  years  450  and  550. — The  four  different  races :  the  Picts,  the 
Scots,  the  Britons,  and  the  Saxons. — From  whence  did  the  light  of  the 
Gospel  come  to  the  Saxons? 

In  modern  Europe,  at  a  distance  of  Fevon  leagues  from 
France,  within  sight  of  our  northern  shores,  there  exists  a  na- 
tion whose  empire  is  more  vast  than  that  of  Alexander  or  the 
CaBsars,  and  which  is  at  once  the  freest  and  most  powerful, 
the  richest  and  most  manful,  the  boldest  and  best  regulated 

643 


644  CHKISTIAN    ORIGIN   OF 

in  the  world.  No  other  nation  offers  so  instructive  a  study, 
so  original  an  aspect,  or  contrasts  so  remarkable.  At  once 
liberal  and  intolerant,  pious  and  inhuman,  loving  order  and 
serenity  as  much  as  noise  and  commotion,  it  unites  a  super- 
stitious respect  for  the  letter  of  the  law  with  the  most  un- 
limited practice  of  individual  freedom.  Busied  more  than 
any  other  in  all  the  arts  of  peace,  yet  nevertheless  invincible 
in  war.  and  sometimes  rushing  into  it  with  frantic  passion  — 
too  often  destitute  of  entliusiasm,  but  incapable  of  failure  — 
it  ignores  the  very  idea  of  discouragement  or  effeminacy. 
Sometimes  it  measures  its  profits  and  caprices  as  by  the  yard, 
sometimes  it  takes  fire  for  a  disinterested  idea  or  passion. 
More  changeable  than  any  in  its  affections  and  judgm.ents, 
but  almost  always  capable  of  restraining  and  stopping  itself 
in  time,  it  is  endowed  at  once  with  an  originating  power 
which  falters  at  nothing,  and  with  a  perseverance  which 
notliing  can  overthrow.  Greedy  of  conquests  and  discoveries, 
it  rushes  to  the  extremities  of  the  earth,  yet  returns  more 
enamored  than  ever  of  the  domestic  hearth,  more  jealous  of 
securing  its  dignity  and  everlasting  duration.  The  implaca- 
ble enemy  of  bondage,  it  is  the  voluntary  slave  of  tradition, 
of  discipline  freely  accepted,  or  of  a  prejudice  transmitted 
from  its  fathers.  No  nation  has  been  more  frequently  con- 
queied  ;  none  has  succeeded  better  in  absorbing  Hud  trans- 
forming its  conquerors.  In  no  othei"  country  has  Catholicism 
been  persecuted  with  more  sanguinary  zeal ;  at  the  present 
moment  none  seems  more  hostile  to  the  Church,  and  at  the 
same  time  none  has  greater  need  of  her  care  ;  no  other  influ- 
ence has  been  so  greatly  wanting  to  its  progress  ;  nothing 
has  left  within  its  breast  a  void  so  irreparable  ;  and  nowhere 
has  a  more  generous  hospitality  been  lavished  upon  our  bish- 
ops and  priests  and  religious  exiles.  Inaccessible  to  modern 
storms,  this  island  has  been  an  inviolable  asylum  for  our 
exiled  fathers  and  princes,  not  less  than  for  our  most  violent 
enemies. 

The  sometimes  savage  egt)tism  of  these  islanders,  and  their 
too  often  cynical  indifference  to  the  sufferings  and  bondage 
of  others,  ought  not  to  make  us  foi'get  that  there,  more  than 
anywhere  else,  man  belongs  to  himself  and  governs  himself 
It  is  there  that  the  nol)ility  of  our  nature  has  developed  all 
its  splendor  and  attained  its  highest  level.  It  is  there  that 
the  generous  passicui  of  independence,  united  to  the  genius 
of  association  and  the  con^^tant  practice  of  self-government, 
have  produced   those  miracles  of  hei-ce  energy,  of  dauntless 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  04^ 

vigor,  and  obstinate  heroism,  which  have  triumplied  ovei 
seas  and  ch'mates,  time  and  distance,  nature  and  tyranny,  ex- 
citing the  perpetual  envy  of  all  nations,  and  among  the  Eng 
lish  themselves  a  proud  enthusiasm.^ 

Loving  freedom  for  itself,  and  loving  nothing  without  free- 
dom, this  nation  owes  nothing  to  her  kings,  who  have  been 
of  importance  only  by  her  and  for  her.  Upon  herself  alone 
weighs  the  formidable  responsibility  of  her  history.  After 
enduring,  as  much  or  more  than  any  European  nation,  the 
horrors  of  political  and  religious  despotism  in  the  sixteenth 
and  seventeenth  centuries,  she  has  been  the  first  and  the 
only  one  among  them  to  free  herself  from  oppression  forei'er. 
Re-established  in  her  ancient  rights,  lier  proud  and  steadfast 
nature  has  forbidden  her  since  then  to  give  up  into  any  hands 
whatsoever,  her  rights  and  destinies,  her  interests  and  free 
will.  She  is  able  to  decide  and  act  for  herself,  governing, 
elevating,  and  inspiring  her  great  men,  instead  of  being  se- 
duced or  led  astray  by  them,  or  worked  upon  for  their  advan- 
tage. This  English  race  has  inherited  the  pride  as  well  as 
the  grandeur  of  that  Roman  people  of  which  it  is  the  rival 
and  the  heir;  I  mean  the  true  Romans  of  t!ie  Republic,  not 
the  base  Romans  subjugated  by  Augustus.  Like  the  Ro- 
mans towards  their  tributaries,  it  has  shown  itself  ferocious 
and  rapacious  to  Ireland,  inflicting  upon  its  victim,  even  up 
to  recent  times,  that  bondage  and  degradation  which  it  re- 
pudiates with  horror  for  itself  Like  ancient  Rome,  often 
hated,  and  too  often  worthy  of  hate,  it  inspires  its  most  favor- 
able judges  rather  with  admiration  than  with  love.  But, 
happier  than  Rome,  after  a  thousand  years  and  more,  it  is 
still  3^oung  and  fruitful.  A  slow,  obscure,  but  uninterrupted 
progress  has  created  for  England  an  inexhaustible  reservoir 
of  strength  and  life.     In  her  veins  the  sap  swells  high  to-day, 

'  This  enthusiasm  has  never  been  better  expressed  than  in  those  lines 

which  Johnson,   the   great  English  moralist  of  last  century,   repeated  with 

animation   on   his  return  from  his  visit  to  the   monastic  island  of  lona,  the 

'cradle  of  British  Christianity,  whither  we  are  shortly  to  conduct  our  readers : 

"  Stern  o'er  each  bosom  Reason  holds  her  state. 

With  daring  aims  irregularly  great; 

Pride  in  their  port,  defiance  in  their  eye, 

I  see  the  lords  of  human  kind  pass  by ; 

Intent  on  higli  designs,  a  thoughtful  band, 

By  forms  unfashioned,  fresh  from  nature's  hand, 

Fierce  in  tlieir  native  hardiness  of  soul, 

Tirue  to  imagined  right,  above  control ; 

While  even  the  peasant  boasts  these  rights  to  scan, 

And  learns  to  venerate  himself  as  man." 

Goldsmith,  The  Traveller. 


646  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

and  will  swell  to-morrow.  Happier  than  Rome,  in  spite  of  a 
thousand  false  conclusions,  a  thousand  excesses,  a  thousand 
stains,  she  is  of  all  the  modern  races,  and  of  all  Christian  na- 
tions, the  one  which  has  best  preserved  the  three  fundamental 
bases  of  everj^  society  which  is  worthy  of  man  —  the  spirit 
of  freedom,  the  domestic  character,  and  the  religious  mind. 

How,  then,  has  this  nation,  in  which  a  perfectly  pagan 
pride  survives  and  triumphs,  and  which  has  nevertheless  re- 
mained, even  in  the  bosom  of  error,  the  most  religious  ^  of  all 
European  nations,  become  Christian  ?  How  and  by  what 
means  has  Christianity  struck  root  so  indestructibly  in  her 
soil?  This  is  surely  a  question  of  radical  interest  among  all 
the  great  questions  of  history,  and  &ne  which  takes  new  im- 
portance and  interest  when  it  is  considered  that  upon  the 
conversion  of  England  there  has  depended,  and  still  depends, 
the  conversion  of  so  many  millions  of  souls.  English  Chris- 
tianity has  been  the  cradle  of  Christianit}''  in  Germany  ;  from 
the  depths  of  Germany,  missionaries  formed  by  the  Anglo- 
Saxons  have  carried  the  faith  into  Scandinavia  and  among 
the  Slaves  ;  and  even  at  the  present  time,  either  by  the  fruit- 
ful expansion  of  Irish  orthodoxy,  or  bj^  the  obstinate  zeal  of 
the  Protestant  propaganda,  Christian  societies,  which  speak 
English  and  live  like  Englishmen,  come  into  being  every  day 
throughout  North  America,  in  the  two  Indies,  in  immense 
Australia,  and  in  the  Isles  of  the  Pacific.  The  Christianity 
of  nearly  half  of  the  world  flows,  or  will  flow,  from  the  foun- 
tain which  first  burst  forth  upon  British  soil. 

It  is  possible  to  answer  this  fundamental  question  with  the 
closest  precision.  No  country  in  the  world  has  received  the 
Christian  faith  more  directly  from  the  Church  of  Rome,  or 
more  exclusively  by  the  ministration  of  monks. 

If  France  has  been  made  by  bishops,  as  has  been  said  by 
a  great  enemy  of  Jesus  Christ,  it  is  still  more  true  that  Chris- 
tian England  has  been  made  by  monks.  Of  all  the  countries 
of  Europe  it  is  this  that  has  been  the  most  deeply  furrowed 
by  the  monastic  plough.  The  monks,  and  the  monks  alone, 
have  introduced,  sowed,  and  cultivated  Christian  civilization 
in  this  famous  island. 

From  whence  came  these  monks  ?     From  two  very  distinct 

*  This  may  be  considered  a  surprising  statement.  It  expresses,  however, 
It  conviction  founded  upon  personal  comparisons  and  studies  made  during 
nearly  forty  years  in  all  the  countries  of  Europe  except  Russia.  It  agrees, 
besides,  with  the  results  ascertained  by  one  of  the  most  conscientious  and 
clear-sighted  observers  of  our  time,  M.  Le  Play. 


THE  BRITISH  ISLES.  647 

sources — from  Rome  and  Ireland.  British  Christianity  wag 
produced  by  the  rivalry,  and  sometimes  by  the  conflict,  of 
the  monastic  missionaries  of  the  Roman  and  of  the  Celtic 
Church. 

But  before  its  final  conversion,  which  was  due,  above  all, 
to  a  Pope  and  to  monks  produced  by  the  Benedictine  order, 
Great  Britain  possessed  a  primitive  Christianity,  obscure  yet 
incontestable,  the  career  and  downfall  of  which  are  worthy 
of  a  rapid  survey. 

Of  all  the  nations  conquered  by  Rome,  the  Britons  Heroic  re- 
were  those  who  resisted  her  arms  the  longest,  and  sistiineeof 
borrowed  the  least  from  her  laws  and  manners,  the  iioman 
Vanquished  for  a  moment,  but  not  subdued,  by  the  ^""P""^- 
invincible  Caesar,  they  forced  the  executioner  of  the  Gauls, 
and  the  destroyer  of  Roman  freedom,  to  leave  their  shores, 
without  having  established  slavery  there.  Less  happy  under 
his  unworthy  successors,  reduced  to  a  province,  and  given 
up  as  a  prey  to  avarice  and  luxury,  to  the  ferocity  of  usu- 
rers,^ of  procurators,  and  of  imperial  lieutenants,  they  long 
maintained  a  proud  and  noble  attitude,  which  contrasted  with 
the  universal  bondage.  Jam  domitl  ut  pareant,  nondum  ut 
serviant^  To  be  subjects  and  not  to  be  slaves  —  it  is  the 
first  and  the  last  word  of  British  history. 

Even  under  Nero,  the  Britons  laughed  at  the  vile  freed- 
men  whom  the  Caesars  imposed  upon  the  dishonored  universe 
as  administrators  and  magistrates.^  Long  before  it  was 
beaten  down  and  revivified  by  the  successive  invasions  of 
three  Teutonic  races  —  the  Saxons,  Danes,  and  Normans  — 
the  noble  Celtic  race  had  produced  a  succession  of  remark- 
able personages  who,  thanks  to  Tacitus,  shine  with  an  im- 
perishable light  amidst  the  degradation  of  the  world :  the 
glorious  prisoner  Caractacus,  the  British  Vercingetorix,  who 
spoke  to  the  emperor  in  language  worthy  of  the  finest  days 
of  the  Republic  —  "Because  it  is  your  will  to  enslave  us, 
does  it  follow  that  all  the  world  desires  your  yoke?"^  and 
Boadicea,  the  heroic  queen,  exhibiting  her  scourged  body  and 
her  outraged  daughters  to  excite  the  indignant  patriotism  of 
the  Britons,  betrayed  by  fortune  but  saved  by  history ;  and, 

^  Such  as  Seneca  himself,  according  to  Dion  Cassius. 
''  Tacitus,  Agricola,  c.  13. 

*  "  Hostibus  irrisui  fuit,  apud  quos  flagrante  etiam  turn  libertate,  nondum 
cognita  libertorum  potentia  erat:  mirabanturque,  quod  dux,  eft  exercitiia 
tanti  belli  confector,  servitiis  obedirent."  —  Annal.,  xiv.  39. 

*  "  Nura,  si  vos  omnibus  imperitare  vultis,  sequitur  ut  omnes  servitutem 
accipiant?"  —  Ibid.,  xii.  37. 


648  ■  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

last  of  all,  Galgacus,  whose  name  Tacitus  had  made  immortal, 
bj  investing  him  with  all  the  eloquence  which  consciencQ 
and  justice  could  bestow  upon  an  honest  and  indignant  man, 
in  that  speech  which  we  all  know  by  heart,  and  Avhich  sound- 
ed the  onset  for  that  fight  in  which  the  most  distant  descend- 
ants of  Celtic  liberty  were  to  cement  with  their  blood  the 
insurmountable  rampart  of  their  mountain  independence^ 

It  was  thu?  that  Britain  gave  a  prelude  to  the  glorious 
future  which  freedom  has  created  for  herself,  through  se 
many  tempests  and  eclipses,  in  the  island  whi(;h  has  finally 
become  her  sanctuary  and  indestructible  shelter. 

The  civil  code  of  Rome,  which  weighs  heavil}'  still,  after 
the  lapse  of  eighteen  centuries,  upon  France,  Spain,  Italy, 
and  Germany,  reigned  without  doubt  in  Britain  during  the 
yjeriod  of  Roman  occupation;  but  it  disappeared  with  the 
reign  of  the  Csesars.  Its  unwholesome  roots  never  wound 
around,  stifled,  or  poisoned  the  vigorous  shoots  of  civil,  politi- 
cal, and  domestic  freedom.  The  same  thing  may  be  said  of 
all  other  similar  influences.  Neither  in  the  institutions  nor 
in  the  monuments  of  Britain  has  imperial  Rome  left  any  trace 
of  hideous  domination.  Its  language  and  its  habits  have 
escaped  her  influence  as  well  as  its  laws.  There,  all  that  is  not 
Celtic  is  Teutonic.  It  was  reserved  for  Catholic  Rome,  the 
Rome  of  the  Popes,  to  leave  an  ineffaceable  impression  upon 
this  famous  island,  and  there  to  reclaim,  for  the  immortal 
majesty  of  the  Gospel,  that  social  influence  which  everywhere 
else  has  been  disputed  or  diverted  from  it  by  the  fatal  inheri- 
tance which  the  Rome  of  the  Csesars  left  to  the  world. 

At  the  same  time,  after  having  been  the  last  of  the  West- 
ern nations  to  yield  to  the  Roman  yoke,  Britain  was  the  first 
to  free  herself  from  it;  she  was  the  first  capable  of  throwing 
off  the  imperial  authority,  and  showing  the  world  that  it  was 
Britain  the  possible  to  do  without  an  emperor.  When  the  pow- 
firstof  erlessness  of  the  empire  against  barbaric  incursions 
natious  had  bccu  demonstrated  in  Britain  as  elsewhere,  the 
pensedwith  Rritous  Were  not  false  to  themelves.  The  little 
Caesar.  national  monarchies,  the  clans  aristocratically  organ- 
ized, whose  divisions  had  occasioned  the  triumph  of  the  Ro- 
man invasion,  reappeared  under  native  chiefs.  A  kind  of 
federation  was  constituted,  and  its  leaders  signified  to  the 
Emperor  Honorius,  in  410,  by  an  embassy  received  at  Ra- 
venna, that  henceforward  Britain  reckoned  upon  defending 

^  "  Initium  libertatis  totius  Britanniae.  .  .  .  Nos  terrarum  ac  libertatis 
eyt.remos." 


THE   BRITISH  ISLES.  C49 

and  governing  herself.^  A  great  writer  has  already  re- 
marked, that  of  all  the  nations  subdued  by  the  Roman  Empire 
it  is  the  Britons  alone  who?e  struggle  with  the  barbarians 
had  a  history  —  and  the  history  of  that  resistance  lasted  two 
centuries.  Nothing  similar  occurred  at  the  same  period^ 
under  the  same  circumstances,  among  the  Italians,  the  Gauls, 
or  the  Spaniards,  who  all  allowed  themselves  to  be  crushed 
and  overtlirown  without  resistance.^ 

At  the  same  time,  Britain  herself  had  not  passed  with  im- 
punity through  three  centuries  and  a  half  of  imperial  bond- 
age. As  in  Gaul,  as  in  all  the  countries  subjugated  by  the 
Roman  Empire,  dependence  and  corruption  had  ended  by 
enervating,  softening,  and  ruining  the  vigorous  population. 
The  sons  to  those  wliom  Csesar  could  not  conquer,  and  who 
had  struggled  heroically  under  Claudius  and  Nero,  soon  began 
to  think  themselves  incapable  of  making  head  against  the 
barbarians,  amissa  virtute  p:;ri(er  ac  libertate.  They  souglit 
in  vain  the  intervention  of  the  Roman  legions,  which  re- 
turned to  the  island  on  two  different  occasions,  without  suc- 
ceeding in  delivering  or  protecting  it.  At  the  same  time, 
the  barbarians  who  came  to   shake  and  overthrow 

4io  42'! 

the  sway  of  the  Caesars  in  Britain,  were  not  for- 
eigners, as  were  the  Goths  in  Italy  and  the   Franks  in  Gaul. 
Those    Caledonians  who,  under  Galgacus,  victori-  Ravages  or 
ously  resisted  Agricola,  and  who,  under  the  new  thepicts. 
names  of  Scots  and  Picts,  breached  the  famous    ramparts 
erected  against  them  by  Antoninus  and  Severus,  and  resumed 
year  after  year  their  sanguinary  devastations,  wringing  from 
Britain,  overwhelmed  and  desolated  by  half  a  cen- 
tury  of  ravage,  that  cry  of  distress  which  is  known 
to  all  —  "  The  barbarians  have  driven  us  to  the  sea,  the  sea 
drives  us  back  upon  the    barbarians.     We  have  only  the 
choice  of  being  murdered  or  drowned  ;  "  ^°  were  nothing  more 
than  unsubdued  tribes  belonging  to  Britain  herself. 

^  "  Romanum  noraen  tenens,  legem  abjiciens."  —  Gildas,  De  Excidio 
Britannice.  Zosime,  Hist.  Nova,  book  vi.  pp.  376,  381.  Compare  Lin- 
GARD,  History  of  England,  c.  1.  Am^d^e  Thierry,  Aries  etle  Tyran  Con- 
stantin,  p.  309. 

"  GoizoT,  Essai  sur  VHistoire  de  France,  p.  2.  In  Gaul  only  the  Arvernes, 
the  compatriots  of  Vercingetorix,  had  one  noble  inspiration,  when  Ecdicius 
compelled  the  Goths  to  raise  the  siege  of  Clermont  in  471,  but  it  was  but  a 
passing  gleam  in  the  night. 

'**  "  Aetio  ter  considi  gemitus  Britannorum.  Eepellunt  nos  barbari  ad 
mare,  repellit  mare  ad  barbaros.  Inter  haec  oriuntur  duo  genera  funeruni  • 
aut  jugulamur  aut  mergimvir." 

VOL.  1.  55 


650  CHRISTIAN  ORIGIN  OF 

Arrival  of  Everybody  knows  also  how  irnprudentl}'  the 
the  Anglo-  Britains  accepted  the  assistance  against  the  Picts, 
of  the  warlike  and  maritime  race  of  Anglo-Saxons, 
and  how,  themselves  not  less  cruel  nor  less  formidable  than 
the  Picts,  those  allies,  becoming  the  conquerors  of  the  coun- 
try, founded  there  a  new  power,  or,  to  speak  more  justly,  a 
new  nationality,  which  has  victoriously  maintained  its  exists 
ence  through  all  subsequent  conquests  and  revolutions. 
These  warriors  were  an  offshoot  from  the  great  Germanic 
family  —  as  were  also,  according  to  general  opinion,  the 
Britons  themselves  —  and  resembled  the  latter  closely  in 
their  institutions  and  habits  ;  which  did  not,  however,  pre- 
vent the  native  population  from  maintaining  against  them, 
during  nearly  two  centuries,  a  heroic,  although  in  the  end 
useless,  resistance. ^^  The  Anglo-Saxons,  who  were  entirely 
strangers  to  Roman  civilization,  took  no  pains  to  preserve  or 
re-establish  the  remains  of  the  imperial  rule.  But  in  destroy- 
ing the  dawning  independence  of  the  Britons,  in  driving 
back  into  the  hilly  regions  of  the  west  that  part  of  the  popu- 
lation which  was  beyond  the  reach  of  the  long  knives  from 
which  they  derived  their  name,!^  the  pagan  invaders  over- 
threw, and  for  a  time  annihilated,  upon  the  blood-stained  soil 
of  Great  Britain,  an  edifice  of  a  majesty  very  different  from 
that  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  of  endurance  more  stead- 
fast than  that  of  Celtic  nationality  —  the  edifice  of  the  Chris- 
tian religion. 

Origin  of  It    is    kuown    with    certainty   that    Christianity 

Christian-  existed  in  Britain  from  the  second  century  of  the 
Britain.  Christian  era,  but  nothing  is  positively  known  as  to 
the  origin  or  organization  of  the  primitive  church;  according 
to  Tertullian,  however,  she  had  penetrated  into  Caledonia 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  Roman  province.^^  She  furnished 
her  contingent  of  martyrs  to  the  persecution  of  Diocletian, 
in  the  foremost  rank  among  whom  stood  Alban,  a  young  dea- 
con, whose  tomb,  at  a  later  date,  was  consecrated  by  one  of 
the  principal  Anglo-Saxon  monasteries.  She  appeared,  im- 
mediately after  the  peace  of  the  Church,  in  the  persons  of 
her  bishops,  at  the  first  Western  councils.  And 
she  survived  the  Roman  domination,  but  only  to 
fight  for  her  footing  inch   by  inch,  and  finally  to  fall  back, 

"  This  resistance  has  been  nowhere  so  well  described  as  by  M.  Anhur  de 
la  Borderie  in  the  Revue  Bretonne  of  1804. 

'*  Sax,  knife,  sword,  in  old  German. 

'*  "Britannorum  inaccessa  Roniauis  loca,  Christo  vero  subdita."  —  Tbb- 
tCL.,  Adv.  Ji'deeos,  c.  7. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  651 

witli  the  last  tribes  of  the  Britons,  before  the  Saxon  invaders, 
alter  an  entire  century  of  efforts  and  sufferings,  of  massacres 
and  profanations.  During  all  this  period,  from  one  end  of 
the  isle  to  the  other,  the  Saxons  carried  fire  and  sword  and 
sacrilege,  pulling  down  public  buildings  and  private  dwell- 
ings, devastating  the  churches,  breaking  the  sacred  stones  of 
the  altars,  and  murdering  the  pastors  along  with  their  flocks.^^ 

Trials  so  cruel  and  prolonged  necessarily  disturbed  the 
habitual  communication  between  the  Christians  of  Britain  and 
the  Roman  Church  ;  'and  this  absence  of  intercourse  occa- 
sioned in  its  turn  the  diversities  of  rites  and  usages,  espe- 
cially in  respect  to  the  celebration  of  Easter,  which  will  be 
discussed  further  on.  At  present  it  is  enough  to  state  that 
the  most  attentive  study  of  authentic  documents  reveals  no 
doctrinal  strife,  no  diversity  of  belief,  between  the  British 
bishops  and  the  Bishop  of  bishops  at  Rome.  Besides,  the 
Rome  of  the  Popes  was  lavishing  its  lights  and  consolations 
upon  its  daughter  beyond  sea,  at  the  very  moment  when  the 
Rome  of  the  CaBsars  abandoned  her  to  disasters  which  could 
never  be  repaired. 

The  British  Church  had  become  acquainted  with  the  dan- 
gerous agitations  of  heresy  even  before  she  was  condemned 
to  her  mortal  struggle  against  Germanic  paganism.  Pelagius, 
the  great  heresiarch  of  the  fifth  century,  the  great  enemy  of 
grace,  was  born  in  her  bosom.  To  defend  herself  from 
the  contagion  of  his  doctrines,  she  called  to  her  aid  the 
orthodox  bishops  of  Gaul.  Pope  Celestin,  who,  about  Mission  of 
the  same  period,  had  sent  the  Roman  deacon  Pal-  plfnadfua" 
ladius  to  be  the  first  bishop  of  the  Scots  of  Ireland,  totiie 

1-r  •  e  Scots 

or  of  the  Hebrides,^^  warned  by  the  same  Palladius  424or'43i; 

"  "  Accensus  manibus  paganorum  ignis  .  .  .  ab  orientali  mare  usque  ad 
occidentale  .  .  .  totatn  prope  insulas  pereuntis  superficieni  obtexit.  Ruebant 
aediflcia  publica,  simul  et  privata ;  passim  sacerdotes  inter  altaria  trucidaban- 
tur,  praesules  cum  populis.  sine  ullorespectu  honoris,  ferro  pariter  etflainmis 
absumebantur."  —  Beda,  Hist.  Ecclesiastica  Oentis  Anglorum,  book  i.  c. 
15.  Compare  Gildas,  De  Excidio  BritannicB.  Opinions  are  divided  as  to 
the  complete  or  partial  destruction  of  the  Britons  in  the  districts  conquered 
by  the  Saxons.  Palgrave  especially  has  questioned  ordinary  tradition  upon 
this  fact.  However,  the  Saxon  historians  themselves  have  proved  more  than 
one  case  of  complete  extermination.  The  first  Saxons  established  by  Cerdic, 
founder  of  the  kingdom  of  Wessex,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  destroyed  the  en- 
tire native  population  tliere.  "  Paucos  Britones,  ejusdem  insulae  accolas, 
quos  in  ea  invenire  potuerunt  .  .  .  occiderunt :  caeteri  enim  accola  ejusdem 
insulae  ante  aut  occisi  erant,  aut  exules  aufugerant."  —  Asser,  p.  5,  ap.  Lin- 
GARD,  i.  19.  "  Hoc  anno  (490)  ^Ua  et  Cissa  obsederunt  Andredescester  (in 
Sussex)  et  interfecerunt  omnes  qui  id  incolerent,  adeo  ut  ne  unus  Brito  ibi 
Buperstes  fuerit." —  Ohron.  Anglo-Sax.,  ad  ann.  490,  ed.  Gibson. 

'*  "  Palladius  ad  Scotos  in  Christum  credentes  ordinatus  a  papa  Celestino 


652  CHRISTIAN    ORIGIN    OF 

and  of  the  of  the  great  clangers  which  threatened  the  faitli 
GPTmitnof  iu  Britain,  charged  our  great  bishop  of  Auxerre, 
^sahistliie  ^t-  Germain,  to  go  and  combat  there  the  Pelagian 
Peia<,rian8.  jieresj.  This  prelate  paid  two  visits  to  Britain,  for- 
tifying  her  in  the  orthodox  faith  and  the  love  of  celestial 
grace.  Germain,  who  was  accompanied  the  tirst  time  by  the 
bishop  of  Troyes,^^  and  the  second  by  the  bishop  of  Treves, 
employed  at  first  against  the  heretics  only  the  arms  of  per- 
suasion. He  preached  to  the  faithful  not  only  in  the  churches, 
but  at  cross-roads  and  in  the  fields.  '  He  argued  publicly 
against  the  Pelagian  doctors  in  presence  of  the  entire  popu- 
lation, assembled  with  their  wives  and  children,  who  gave 
him  the  most  absorbed  attention. ^^  The  illustrious  bishop, 
who  had  been  a  soldier  in  his  youth,  showed  once  more  the 
bold  ardor  of  his  early  profession  in  defence  of  the  people 
whom  he  came  to  evangelize.  At  the  head  of  his  disarmed 
converts  he  marched  against  a  horde  of  Saxons  and  Picts, 
who  were  leagued  together  against  the  Britons,  and  put 
them  to  flight  by  making  his  band  repeat  three  times  the  cry 
Hallelujah,  which  the  neighboring  mountains  threw  back  in 
echoes.  This  is  the  day  known  as  the  Victory  of  the  Hallelu- 
jah}^ It  would  have  been  well  could  he  have  preserved  the 
victors  from  the  steel  of  the  barbarians  as  he  succeeded  in 
curing  them  of  the  poison  of  heresy;  for  after  his  visit  Pe- 

primus  episcopus  mittitur."  —  Prosper,  Chron.  Consulare,  ad  ann.  429.  In 
another  work  this  contemporary  adds :  "  Et  ordinato  Scotis  episeopo,  duni 
Eomanam  insuham  studet  servare  catholieani,  fecit  etiam  barbarani  Christi- 
anam."  —  Lib.  contra  Collat..  c.  14.  But  the  small  success  of  that  mission,  of 
which  there  is  no  mention  even  in  the  historic  documents  of  Ireland,  gives 
probability  to  the  conjecture  of  M.  Varin,  who  concludes  that  Palladius  was 
charged  solely  with  the  care  of  the  Scots  already  establislied  in  tiie  Hebrides, 
and  upon  the  western  shores  of  Caledonia.  This  is  the  best  place  to  men- 
tion a  saint,  venerated  in  the  Church  of  Scotland  as  the  disciple  of  Palla- 
dius,  St.  Ternan,  described  as  archbishop  of  the  Picts  in  the  liturgical  books 
of  Aberdeen,  which  have  made  of  St.  Palladius  (f  towards  450)  a  contempo- 
rary of  St.  Gregory  the  Great  (f  604).  The  memory  of  this  saint  has  been 
brought  again  to  light  by  the  recent  publication  of  a  very  curious  liturgical 
relic.  Liber  Ecclesie  Beati  Tcrrenani  de  Arbuthnott,  seit  Missale  secundum 
usum  EcclesicB  Sa?icii  Andrea  in  Scotia,  which  we  owe  to  Dr.  Forlies,  Angli- 
can bishop  of  Brechin.  But  the  article  devoted  to  him  by  the  Bollandists 
(Act.  SS.,  Junii,  vol.  ii.  p.  533-35)  does  not  put  an  end  to  the  uncertainty 
which  prevails  as  to  his  existence. 

'^  St.  Lupus,  educated  at  the  monastic  school  of  Lerins,  and  so  well  known 
for  his  moral  victory  over  Attila.  —  See  ante,  p.  276. 

^^  "  Divinus  per  eos  serrao  ferme  quotidie,  non  solum  in  ecclesiis,  verum 
etiam  per  trivia,  per  rura  prasdicabatur.  .  .  .  Immensa  multitudo  etiam  cum 
conjugibus  et  liberis  excita  convenerat,  et  erat  populus  expectator  et  futurua 
judex  .  .  .  vix  manus  continet,  judicium  tamen  clamore  testatur." — Beds. 
L  18. 

>8  a  pugna  alleluiatica." 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  653 

lagianlsm  appeared  in  Britain  only  to  receive  its  deathblow  at 
the  synod  ot'519.  By  means  of  the  disciples  whom  he  trained, 
and  who  became  the  founders  of  the  principal  monasteries  of 
Wales,  it  is  to  our  great  Gallican  saint  that  Britain  owes  her 
first  splendors  of  cenobitical  life. 

The  celebrated  bishop  of  Auxerre  and  his  brethren  were 
not  the  only  dignified  ecclesiastics  to  whom  the  Roman 
Church  committed  the  care  of  preserving  and  propagating 
the  faith  in  Britain.     Towards  the  end  of  the  fourth  ^„    „  ^ 

,        ,      .     ,  ,.     1        r-i    1     T       •  •  •  ^I'G  Breton 

century,  at  the  height  of  the  Caledonian  invasions.  Ninian 
the  son  of  a  Breton  chief,  Ninias  or  Ninian,  Avent  to  theco*ifv\?- 
Rome  to  refresh  his  spirit  in  the  fountains  of  ortho-  p°°g°^*'^^ 
doxy  and  discipline,  and,  after  having  lived,  prayed, 
and  studied  there  in  the  school  of  Jerome  and  Damasus,!^  he 
received  from  Pope  Siricius  episcopal  ordination.  .,70 gg. 
He  conceived  the  bold  thought,  in  returning  to  Bri- 
tain, of  meeting  the  waves  of  northern  barbarians,  who  con- 
tinued to  approach  ever  nearer  and  more  terrible,  by  the  only 
bulwark  which  could  subdue,  by  transforming  them.  He  un- 
dertook to  convert  them  to  the  Christian  faith.  The  first 
thing  he  did  was  to  establish  the  seat  of  his  diocese  in  a  dis- 
tant corner  of  that  midland- district  which  lies  between  the 
two  isthmuses  that  divide  Great  Britain  into  three  unequal 
parts.  This  region,  the  possession  of  which  had  been  inces- 
santly disputed  by  the  Picts,  the  Britons,  and  the  Romans, 
had  been  reduced  into  a  province,  under  the  name  of  FaZenh'a, 
only  in  the  time  of  the  Emperor  Valentinianus,  and  compre- 
hended all  the  land  between  the  wall  of  Antoninus  on  the 
north,  and  the  wall  of  Severus  to  the  soutl^.  Its  western 
extremity,  the  part  of  the  British  coast  which*  lay  nearest  to 
Ireland,  bore  at  that  time  the  name  of  Galwidia  or  Galloway .^'^ 
It  forms  a  sort  of  peninsula,  cut  by  the  sea  into  several  vast 
and  broad  promontories.  It  was  on  the  banks  of  one  of  the 
bays  thus  formed,  upon  a  headland  from  which  the  distant 
heights  of  Cumberland  and  the  Isle  of  Man  may  be  distin- 
guished, that  Ninian  established  his  ecclesiastical  headquar- 
ters  by  building  a  stone  church.  This  kind  of  edifice,  till 
then  unknown  in  Britain,  gained  for  the  new  cathedral  and 
its  adjoining  monastery  the  name  of  Candida  Casa,  or  White^ 

19  "Nynia  episcopo  revcrentissimo  etsanctissimo  viro,  de  natione  Britonum, 
qui  erat  Romae  regulariter  fidem  et  uiysteria  veritatis  edoctus."  —  Bede, 
iii.  4. 

*"  This  province,  so  called  during  all  the  middle  ages,  is  represented  io 
modern  maps  by  the  counties  of  Wigton  and  Kirkcudbright. 

55* 


654  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

horn  21  wbi'ch  is  still  its  title.  He  consecrated  the  church  to 
St.  Martin,  the  illustrious  apostle  of  the  Gauls,  to  visit  whom 
he  had  stopped  at  Tours,  on  his  way  back  from  Rome,  and 
who,  according  to  tradition,  gave  him  masons  capable  of 
building  a  church  in  the  Roman  manner.  The  image  of  this 
holy  man,  who  died  at  about  the  same  time  as  Ninian  estab- 
lished himself  in  his  White  House,  the  recollection  of  his 
courage,  his  laborious  efforts  against  idolatry  and  heresy,  his 
charity,  full  of  generous  indignation  against  all  persecutors,^^ 
Avere  well  worthy  to  preside  over  the  apostolic  career  of  the 
new  British  bishop,  and  to  inspire  him  with  the  self-devotion 
necessary  for  beginning  the  conversion  of  the  Picts. 

What  traveller  ever  dreams  in  our  days,  while  surveying 
western  Scotland  from  the  banks  of  the  Solway  to  those  of 
the  Forth  and  Ta}^  passing  from  the  gigantic  capitals  of  in- 
dustry to  the  fields  fertilized  by  all  the  modern  improvements 
of  agriculture,  meeting  everywhere  the  proofs  and  produc- 
tions of  the  most  elaborate  civilization,  —  who  dreams  nowa- 
days of  the  obstacles  which  had  to  be  surmounted  before  this 
very  country  could  be  snatched  from  barbarism  ?  It  is  but 
too  easy  to  forget  what  its  state  must  have  been  when  Ninian 
Ferocity  of  became  its  first  missionary  and  bishop.  Notwith- 
evan"e'Hzed  Standing  many  authors,  both  sacrod  and  profane  — 
by  Ninian.  Diou  and  Strabonius,  St.  Johu  Chrysostom  and  St. 
Jerome  —  have  emulated  each  other  in  painting  the  horrible 
cruelty,  the  savage  and  brutal  habits,  of  those  inhabitants  of 
North  Britain,  who,  successively  known  under  the  name  of 
Caledonians,  Meatce,  Attacoti,^^  Scots,  or  Picts,  were  most 
probably  nothing  more  than  the  descendants  of  the  British 
tribes  whom  Rome  had  not  been  able  to  subdue.^     All  agree 

"  Horn,  hern,  Saxon  (Brn,  house.  On  an  island  near  the  shore  there  ia 
still  shown  a  little  ruined  church  which  is  said  to  have  been  built  by  St.  Nin- 
ian. The  diocese  which  he  founded  disappeared  after  his  death ;  but  it  was 
re-established  by  the  Anglo-Saxons,  as  was  also  the  community,  to  whom 
the  famous  Alcuin  addressed  a  letter,  entiled  Ad  fratres  S-  Ninian  in  Can- 
dida Casa.  A  new  invasion  of  the  Picts,  this  time  from  Ireland,  destroyed 
for  the  second  time  the  diocese  of  Galloway,  which  was  re-established  only 
in  the  twelfth  century,  under  King  David  I.  The  beautiful  ruins  of  this 
cathedral,  which  is  comparatively  modern,  and  was  destroyed  by  the  Presby- 
terians, are  seen  in  the  town  of  Whitehorn.  Tlie  tomb  of  St.  Ninian  was 
always  much  frequented  as  a  place  of  pilgrimage  before  the  Reformation. 

**  See  ante,  p.  265. 

^  These  Attacoti,  to  whom  St.  Jerome  attributes  morals  and  cruelties 
which  will  not  bear  description,  inhabited,  according  to  the  general  opinion, 
the  picturesque  district  north  of  the  Clyde,  at  present  traversed  by  so  manj 
travellers,  between  Loch  Lomond  and  Loch  Pyne. 

**  Ialgrave,  Bise  and  Progress  of  the  English  Commonwealth,  vol.  i.  p 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  655 

ia  denouncinj^  the  incestuous  intercourse  of  their  domestic 
existence,  and  they  have  even  been  accused  of  cannibalism.^^ 
All  express  the  horror  with  which  the  subjects  of  the  Empire 
regarded  those  monsters  in  human  form,  who  owed  their  final 
name  of  Picts  to  their  habit  of  marching  to  battle  nuked,  dis- 
closing bodies  tattooed,  like  those  of  the  savage  islanders  of 
the  Pacific,  with  strange  devices  and  many  colors.  Notwith- 
standing, Ninian  did  not  hesitate  to  trust  himself  in  the  midst 
of  those  enemies  of  faith  and  civilization.  He,  the  son  and 
representative  of  that  British  race  which  they  had  been  ac- 
customed for  more  than  a  century  to  massacre,  spoil,  and 
scorn,  spent  the  twenty  years  that  remained  of  his  life  in  un- 
wearied efforts  to  bring  them  into  the  light  from  on  high,  to 
lead  them  back  from  cannibalism  to  Christianity,  and  that  at 
the  very  moment  when  the  Roman  Empire,  as  represented 
Dy  Honorius,  had  abandoned  Britain  to  its  implacable  de- 
stroyers. 

Unfortunately  there  remain  no  authentic  details  of  his  mis- 
siou,^'^  no  incident  which  recalls  even  distantly  the  clearly 
characterized  mission  of  his  successor,  St.  Columba,  who  be- 
came, a  century  and  a  half  later,  the  apostle  of  the 
Northern  Picts.  We  only  know  Hiat  he  succeeded  in 
founding,  in  the  midst  of  the  Pictish  race,  a  nucleus  of  Chris- 
tianity which  was  never  altogether  destroj^ed  ;  after  whicu, 
crossing  the  limits  which  Agricola  and  Antoninus  had  set 
to  the  Roman  swa}'  at  the  time  of  its  greatest  splendor,  he 
went,  preaching  the  faith  to  the  foot  of  those  Grampians 
where  the  father-in-law  of  Tacitus  gained  his  last  unfruitful 
victory .2''  We  know  that  his  memory  remains  as  a  blessing 
among  the  descendants  of  the  Picts  and  Scots,  and  that  many 
churches  consecrated  under  hia  invocation  still  preserve  the 
recollection  of  that  worship  which  was  vowed  to  him  by  a 
grateful  posterity  ;2^  and,  finally,  we  know  that,  when  above 

419.  This  is  true,  however,  only  of  the  Picts,  for  the  Scots  unquestionably 
came  from  Ireland,  the  Scotia  of  the  middle  ages. 

^'  See  specially,  St.  Jerome,  in  Jovinianum,  book  ii. 

**  The  Bollandists  {die  16th  September)  do  not  admit  the  authenticity  of 
the  life  of  St.  Ninian,  -written  in  the  twelfth  century  by  the  holy  abbot 
^Ired,  which  contains  only  such  miracles  as  are  to  be  found  everywhere, 
without  any  specially  characteristic  feature. 

"  "  Ipsi  australes  Picti  qui  infra  eosdem  montes  habent  sedes  .  .  .  relicto 
errore  idololatri*  fidera  veritatis  acceperant  praedicanti  eis  verbura  Ninia 
episcopo."  —  Bede,  iii.  4. 

*^  Even  beyond  the  Grampians,  as  far  as  the  point  where  Glen  Urquhart 
opens  upon  Loch  Ness,  and  where  St.  Columba  (see  further  on.  Book  IX. 
chap,  iii.)  went  to  visit  an  old  Pict  when  dying,  a  ruined  chapel  is  still  to  Ita 


656  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN  OF 

Death  of  seveiitj,  he  returned  to  die  in  his  monastery  of  the 
Niujau,  432.  White  House,  after  having  passed  the  latter  portion 
of  his  life,  preparing  himself  for  the  judgment  of  God,  in  a 
cave  still  pointed  out  half  way  up  a  white  and  lofty  cliff  on 
the  Galloway  shore,  upon  wh'ch  beat,  without  cease,  the  im- 
petuous waves  of  the  Irish  sea.^^ 

But  in  the  primitive  British  Church,  which  was  so  cruelly 
afflicted  by  the  heathens  of  the  north  and  of  the  east,  by  the 
Picts  and  the  Saxons,  there  were  many  other  monasteries 
than  that  of  Ninian  at  Whitehorn.  All  the  Christian  churches 
of  the  period  were  accompanied  by  cenobitical  institutions, 
and  Gildas,  the  most  trustworthy  of  British  annalists,  leaves 
no  doubt  as  to  their  existence  in  Britain.^*^  But  history  has 
retained  no  detailed  recollection  of  them.  Out  of  Cambria, 
which  v/ill  be  spoken  of  hereafter,  the  only  great  monastic 
institution  whose  name  has  triumplied  over  oblivion  belongs, 
to  legend  rather  than  to  history  ;  but  it  has  held  too  impor- 
tant a  place  in  the  religious  traditions  of  the  English  people 
to  be  altogether  omitted  here.  It  was  an  age  in  which  Cath- 
olic nations  loved  to  dispute  among  themselves  their  priority 
and  antiquity  in  the  profession  of  the  Christian  faith,  and  to 
seek  their  direct  ancestors  among  the  privileged  beings  who 
had  known,  cherished,  and  served  the  Son  of  God  during  His 
passage  through  this  life.  They  aspired  by  these  legendary 
genealogies  to  draw  themselves  somehow  closer  to  Calvary, 
and  to  be  represented  at  the  mysteries  of  the  Passion.  For 
this  reason  Spain  has  victoriously  claimed  as  her  apostle  the 
son  of  Zebedee,  the  brother  of  St.  John  —  that  James  whom 
Jesus  led  with  him  to  the  splendors  of  Tabor  and  to  the  an- 
guish of  the  Garden  of  Olives.  For  this  reason  the  south  of 
France  glories  in  tracing  back  its  Christian  origin  to  that 
family  whose  sorrows  and  love  are  inscribed  in  the  Gospel  — 
to  Martha,  who  was  the  hostess  of  Jesus  ;  to  Lazarus,  whom 
He  raised  up  ;  to  Mary  Magdalene,  who  was  the  first  witness 
of  His  own  resurrection ;  to  their  miraculous  journey  from 
Judea  to  Provence ;  to  the  mailyrdom  of  one,  to  the  retreat 
of  another  in  the  Grotto  of  St.  Baume  ;  —  admirable  traditions, 
which  the  most  solid  learning  of  our  own  day  has  justifned 
and  consecrated.^^      England   in  other  days,  with  much  less 

seen  bearing  the  name  of  St.  Ninian,  from  wliich  it  has  been  supposeil  tliat 
his  mission  passed  the  limit  which  has  been  ordinarily  assigned  to  it. 

**  Lives  of  the  English  Saints,  1845,  No.  xiii.  p.  131. 

^^  De  Excidio  Britannia:,  pp.  43-45. 

*•  See  ih<\  great  and  learned  work  published  by  M.  Faillon,  Director  of 


THE   LIUrifjH   ISLES.  657 

founJatioii,  loved  to  persuade  herself  that  she  owed  i^^g^^^^f 
tlie  first  seed  of  faith  to  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  the  ;^'^j.^J'^i!|{,^°J^ 
ii«)hle  and  rich  disciple  ^2  who  laid  the  body  of  the 
Lord  in  the  sepulchre  where  the  Magdalene  came  to  embalm 
it.  The  Britons,  and  after  them  the  Anglo-Saxons  and  Anglo- 
Normans,  handed  down  from  father  to  son  the  tradition  that 
Joseph,  flying  the  persecutions  of  the  Jews,  and  carrying 
with  him  for  all  his  treasure  some  drops  of  the  blood  of  Jcsuu 
Christ,  landed  on  the  western  coast  of  England  with  twelve 
companions;  that  he  there  found  an  asylum  in  a  ^^^^  ^^ 
desert  place  surrounded  by  water,^^  Q,n(3i  that  he  Gi.utun- 
built  and  consecrated  to  the  blessed  Virgin  a  chapel,  "''^" 
the  walls  of  which  were  formed  by  entwined  branches  of 
willow,  and  the  dedication  of  which  Jesus  Christ  Himself  did 
not  disdain  to  celebrate.  The  same  legend  has  been  told 
since  then  of  two  great  and  famous  monastic  churches  - — 
that  of  St.  Denis  in  France,  and  of  Notre  Dame  des  Ermites 
in  Switzerland.3*  fhis  spot,  destined  to  become  the  first 
Christian  sanctuary  of  the  British  Isles,  was  situated  upon  a 
tributary  of  the  gulf  into  which  the  Severn  falls.     It  after- 

Saint-Sulpioe,  under  the  title  of  Monuments  inedits  sur  V Apostolat  de  Sainte 
Marie  Bla^eleine  en  Provence.  Paris,  1848.  Compare  Bouche.  Defense  de 
la  Foi  de  Provence  pour  ses  Saints  Lazare,  Maximin,  Marthe,  et  Madeleine. 

*^  "Nobilis  decurio."  —  S.  Makc. 

'^  Gdillelmus  Malmesburiensis,  Antiq.  Glastonb.,  ap.  Gale,  Script. 
Rur.  Britonn.,  vol.  iii.  p.  293.  Compare  Baronics,  Ann..,  ad  ann.  48. 
DuGDALE,  Monasticon,  vol.  i.  p.  2.  The  Bollandists  and  various  other  mod- 
ern historians  have  taken  much  pains  to  refute  this  tradition.  It  is,  however, 
repeated  in  the  letter  which  some  monks  addressed  to  Queen  Mary  in  1553, 
to  ask  the  re-establishment  of  their  abbey  (ap.  Dcgdale,  vol.  i.  p.  9  of  the 
new  edition).  In  consequence  of  this  tradition  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  the 
ambassadors  of  England  claimed  precedence  of  those  of  France,  Spain,  and 
Scotland  at  the  Councils  of  Pisa  in  1409,  of  Constance  in  1414,  and,  above 
all,  of  Bale  in  1434,  because,  according  to  them,  the  faith  had  been  preached 
in  France  only  by  St.  Denis,  and  later  than  the  mission  of  Joseph  of  Arima- 
thea. —  UssHER,  De  Prim.  Eccl.  Brit.,  p.  22. 

'*  The  following  narrative,  told  by  William  of  Malmesbury,  shows  to  what 
extent  this  legend  was  accepted  in  France  up  to  the  twelfth  century  :  — 

"  Monachus  quidam  Glastoniae,  Godefridus  nomine  (de  cujus  epistola  hoc 
capitulum  assumpsim?as),  tempore  Henrice  Blesensis  abbatis  Glastoniensis, 
cumin  pago  Parisiacensi  apud  Sanctum  Dionysium  moraretur;  senior  qui- 
dam ex  monachis  intorrogavit  eum  :  '  Quo  genus?  Unde  domo?  '  Eespondit: 
'  Normannum  e  Britannise  monasterio,  quod  Glastingeia  dicetur,  monachum. 
—  Papae!  inqiit,  an  adhuc  stat  illaperpetuae  Virginis  et  misericordise  Matris 
vestusta  ecclesia?  —  Stat,'  inquit.  Tum  ille  lepido  attactu  caput  G.  Glasto- 
niensis demulcens,  diu  silentio  suspensum  tenuit,  ac  sic  demum  ora  resolvit: 
•  Haec  gloriosissimi  martyris  Dionysii  ecclesia  et  ilia,  de  qua  te  asseris  eamdem 
privilegii  dignitatem  habent;  ista  in  Gallia,  ilia  in  Britannia,  uno  eodem  tem- 
pore exortae,  a  suramo  et  magno  pontifice  consecratae.  Uno  tamen  gradu 
Ula  supererainet :  Boma  etenino  secunda  vocatur.'  "      ^ 


658  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN  OF 

wards  received  the  name  of  Glastonbury;  and  such  was,  ac- 
cording to  the  unchangeable  popular  conviction,  the  origin 
of  the  great  abbey  of  that  name,  which  was  afterwards  occu- 
pied by  monks  of  Irish  origin.''^  This  sanctuary  of  the  primi- 
tive legends  and  national  traditions  of  the  Celtic  race  was 
besides  supposed  to  enclose  the  tomb  of  King  Arthur,  who 
was,  as  is  well  known,  the  personification  of  the  long  and 
bloody  resistance  of  the  Britons  to  the  Saxon  invasion,  the 
lieroic  champion  of  their  liberty,  of  their  language,  and  of 
their  faith,  and  the  first  type  of  that  chivalrous  ideal  of  the 
u:iddle  ages  in  which  warlike  virtues  were  identified  with 
the  service  of  God  and  of  our  Lad3\2^  Mortally  wounded  in 
one  of  these  combats  against  the  Saxotis,  which  lasted  three 
successive  days  and  nights,  he  was  carried  to  Glastonbur}', 
<lied  there,  and  was  buried  in  secret,  leaving  to  his  nation 
Ihe  vain  hope  of  seeing  him  one  day  reappearj^*"  and  to  the 
whole  of  Christian  Europe  a  legendary  glory,  a  memory  des- 
tined to  emulate  that  of  Charlemagne. 

Thus  poetr}^,  history,  and  faith  found  a  common  home  in 
the  old  monastery,  which  was  for  more  than  a  thousand  years 
one  of  the  wonders  of  England,  and  which  still  remained 
erect,  flourishing,  and  extensive  as  an  entire  town,  up  to  the 
day  when  Henry  VIII.  hung  and  quartered  the  last  abbot 
before  the  great  portal  of  the  confiscated  and  profaned 
sanctuary  .3^ 

^*  The  curious  collection  entitled  Monasticon  Anglicanum,  with  the  admi- 
rable plates  of  W.  Hollar,  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  editions  of  the  seven- 
teentli  century,  should  be  consulted  upon  this  famous  abbey,  as  also  upon  all 
the  otliers  we  may  name.  The  bones  of  King  Arthur  were  supposed  to  have 
been  found  at  Glastonbury  in  the  reign  of  Henry  II.,  at  the  end  of  the  twelfth 
century. 

*  See  all  the  many  poems  on  the  Round  Table  in  England,  France,  and 
Germany,  and  especially  the  three  great  poems  entitled  Parccval,  Titurel, 
and  Lohoigrin,  which  turn  upon  the  worship  of  the  Saint  Graal  or  Sang 
Real,  that  is  to  say,  the  blood  of  our  Lord,  collected  by  Joseph  of  Arimathea, 
and  preserved  in  the  vase  which  Jesus  Christ  had  used  in  the  institution  of 
the  Euchaiist. 

^^  Compare  Thierry,  Histoire  de  la  Conqiieie  d'Anglcterre,  book  i.  p.  39. 
Lappenberg,  vol.  i.  p.  104-107.  M.  de  la  Borderie,  in  his  fine  narrative  of 
the  struggle  of  the  insular  Britons  with  the  Anglo-Saxons,  has  well  distio- 
guished  the  hyperbolical  personage  of  legendary  tradition  from  the  real 
Arthur,  chief  of  the  league  of  Britons  of  the  south  and  west,  and  conqueror 
of  the  Saxons,  or  rather  of  the  Angles,  in  twelve  battles. 

'^  14th  May,  1539.  —  This  martyr  was  accused  of  having  withdrawn  from 
the  hand  of  the  spoiler  some  part  of  the  treasure  of  the  abbey.  He  was 
pursued  and  put  to  death  by  the  zeal  of  John  Russell,  founder  of  the  house 
of  Bedford,  and  one  of  the  principal  instruments  of  the  tyranny  of  Henry 

vni. 


THE  BRITISH  ISLES.  659 


But  we  return  to  the  reality  of  history,  and  to  position  of 
the  period  which  must  now  occupy  our  attention,  ^om45oto 
that  which  extends  from  the  middle  of  the  fifth  to  sso. 
that  of  the  sixtii  century,  the -same  age  in  which  the  Mero- 
vingians founded  in  Ganl  the  Frankish  kingdom,  so  beloved 
by  the  monks ;  and  St.  Benedict  planted  upon  Monte  Cassino 
the  cradle  of  the  greatest  of  monastic  orders.  Great  Britain, 
destined  to  become  the  most  precious  conquest  of  the  Bene- 
dictines, offered  at  that  moment  the  spectacle  of  four  differ- 
ent races  desperately  struggling  against  each  other  for  the 
master}'. 

In  the  north  were  the  Picts  and  Scots,  still  strangers  and 
enemies  to  the  faith  of  Christ,  intrenched  behind  those  moun- 
tains and  gnlfs,  which  gained  for  them  the  character  of  trans- 
marine foreigners,  people  from  beyond  seas;^^  continually 
threatening  the  southern  districts,  which  they  had  crushed 
or  stupeh'ed  for  a  century  by  the  intermitting  i-ecurrence  of 
their  infestations;  and  fi'om  which  they  were  driven  only  by 
other  barbarians  as  heathen  and  as  savage  as  themselves. 

Farther  down,  in  that  region  which  the  gulfs  of  Clyde, 
Forth,  and  Solway  constitute  the  central  peninsula  of  the 
three  which  compose  Great  Bi'itain,  were  other  Picts  per- 
manently established,  since  448,  in  the  land  which  they  had 
torn  from  the  Britons,  and  among  whom  the  apostle  Ninian 
had  sown  the  seeds  of  Christianity .^^ 

To  the  south-west,  and  upon  all  the  coast  which  faces  Ire- 
land, remained  a  native  and  still  independent  population.  It 
was  here  tliat  the  unhappy  Britons  —  abandoned  by  the 
Romans,  decimated,  ravaged,  and  trodden  down  for  a  cen- 
tury by  the  Picts ;  theu  for  another  centur}^  spoiled,  en- 
slaved, driven  from  their  towns  and  fields  by  the  Saxons ; 
then  driven  back  again,  some  to  the  mountains  of  Wales, 
others  to  that  tongue  or  horn  of  land  which  is  called  Corn- 
wall, Cornu  wallioR,  others  to  the  maritime  district  which  ex- 
tends from  the  banks  of  the  Clyde  to  those  of  the  Mersey*^ 
—  still  found  an  asylum. 

'*  Gildas  and  Bede  call  them  '■^  gentes  transmarinas  :  non  quod  extra 
Britanniam  essent  positae,  sed  quia  a  parte  Brittonum  erant  remotae." 

*"  "  Picti  in  exirema  parte  instdcB"  (that  is  to  say,  of  the  Roman  isle,  in 
Valentia),  *'  tunc  primum  et  deinceps  requieverunt,  pr£edas  et  contritiones 
nonnuiiquam  facientes,"  &c.  —  Gildas,  apud  Gale,  p.  13. 

*'  This  was  the  kingdom  of  Strath- Glyde,  which  later  took  the  name  ol 
Cambria,  and  of  which  a  vestige  remains,  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  population 
more  British  than  Saxon,  in  the  existing  county  of  Cumberland.  The 
boundaries  of  this  kingdom,  however,  are  much  disputed.     To  find  a  way 


860  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

Finally,  in  the  south-east,  all  the  country  which  is  now 
England  had  fallen  a  prey  to  the  Anglo-Saxons,  who  were 
occupied  in  laying,  under  the  federative  form  of  the  seven 
or  eight  kingdoms  of  the  Heptarchy,  the  immovable  founda- 
tions of  the  most  powerful  nation  of  the  modern  world. 

But,  like  the  Picts  of  the  north,  the  Anglo-Saxons  were 
still  heathens.  From  whence  shall  come  to  them  the  light 
of  the  Gospel  and  the  bond  of  Christian  civilization,  which 
are  indispensable  to  their  future  grandeur  and  virtue  ? 
Shall  it  be  from  those  mountains  of  Cambria,  from  Wales, 
where  the  vanquished  race  maintains  the  sacred  fire  of  faith 
and  the  traditions  of  the  British  Church,  with  its  native 
clergy  and  monastic  institutions?  It  is  a  question  impossi- 
ble to  solve,  without  having  thrown  a  rapid  glance  over  the 
religious  condition  of  that  picturesque  and  attractive  country 
during  the  sixth  century. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  SAINTS  AND  MONKS  OF  WALES. 

The  British  refugees  in  Cambria  maintain  there  the  genius  of  the  Celtic  race. 
—  Testimony  rendered  to  the  virtues  of  the  Welsh  by  their  enemy  Giral- 
dus.  —  Music  and  poetrj' :  the  bards  and  their  triads.  —  Devotion  to  the 
Christian  faith.  —  King  Arthur  crowned  by  the  Bishop  Dubricius.  —  Alli- 

through  the  confusion  of  texts  and  traditions  relative  to  the  religious  and 
chronological  origin  of  Great  Britain,  recourse  should  be  had  to  two  admi- 
rable papers,  by  a  modern  writer,  too  soon  withdrawn  from  tlie  ranks  of 
French  erudition,  M.  Varin,  Dean  of  the  Faculty  of  Sciences  at  Rennes, 
which  are  to  be  found  in  the  Recueil  des  iMemoires  prcsentes  par  divers  sa- 
vants a  V Academic  des  Inscriptions  et  Belles-Lettres  (tome  v.,  first  and  sec- 
ond part,  1857,  1858).  The  first  is  entitled  Etudes  relatives  d.  Vet  at  politique 
et  religieux  des  lies  Bo-itanniques  au  moment  de  V Invasion  Saxonne ;  the 
second,  Memoire  sur  les  Causes  de  la,  Dissidence  entre  VEglise  Bretonne  ei 
V Eglise  Romaine  relativement  a  la  Celebration  de  la  Fete  de  Paques.  Before 
resolving  this  last  question,  with  a  precision  and  a  perspicuity  which  permit 
U8  to  follow  him  without  hesitation,  M.  Varin  guides  us  across  all  the  ":ean- 
derings  of  the  three  principal  schools,  Irish,  English,  and  Scotch,  which  dis- 
pute the  origin  of  the  Caledonians;  and  wliich,  as  personified  in  Usher, 
Camden,  and  Innes,  have  remained  almost  unknown  to  Continental  learning. 
He  regards  as  proved  —  1st,  The  identity  of  the  Picts  with  the  ancient 
Caledonians.  2d,  The  Irisli  theory,  which  makes  out  the  Scotsio  be  a  colony 
of  Hibernians,  of  Irish  origin  (probably  towards  258),  and  established  in 
Caledonia  before  the  period  of  the  infestations. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  061 

ance  between  the  bards  and  the  monks  :  the  bard  surprised  by  tlio  Rood.  — 
A  few  names  which  float  in  the  ocean  of  legends.  —  Mutual  influence  of 
Cambria,  Armorica,  and  Ireland  upon  each  other :  their  legends  identical. 

—  The  love  of  (he  Celtic  monks  for  travel.  —  Foundation  of  the  episcopal 
monasteries  of  St.  Asapli  by  Kentigern,  of  LlandafFby  Dubricius,  of  Ban- 
gor by  Iltud,  a  converted  bandit.  —  St.  David,  monk  and  bishop,  the 
Benedict  of  Wales.  — His  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem,  from  which  he  returns 
archbishop.  —  The  right  of  asylum  recognized.  —  He  restores  Ghiston- 
bury.  —  His  tomb  becomes  the  national  sanctuary  of  Cambria.  —  Legend 
of  St.  Cadoc  and  his  father  and  mother.  —  He  founds  Llancarvan,  the 
school  and  burying-place  of  the  Cambrian  race.  —  His  poetical  aphorisms, 
his  vast  domains.  —  He  protects  the  peasants.  —  A  young  girl  carried  off 
and  restored.  — Right  of  asylum  as  for  St.  David.  —  The  Hate  of  Cadoc. 

—  He  takes  refuge  in  Armorica,  prays  for  Virgil,  returns  to  Britain,  and 
there  perishes  by  the  sword  of  the  Saxons.  —  His  name  invoked  at  the 
battle  of  the  Thirty.  —  St.  Winifred  and  her  fountain.  —  St.  Beino,  the 
enemy  of  the  Saxons.  —  The  hatred  of  the  Cambrians  to  the  Saxons  an 
obstacle  to  the  conversion  of  the  conquerors. 

DuEiNG  the  long  struggle  maintained  by  the  Brit-  ..Q^go 
ons  in  defence  of  their  lands  and  their  independence 
with  the  Saxons,  whom  a  succession  of  invading  expeditions 
brought  like  waves  of  the  sea  upon  the  eastern  and  southern 
shores  of  the  island,  a  certain  number  of  those  who  repudi- 
ated the  foreign  rule  had  sought  an  asyhim  in  the  western 
peninsulas  of  their  native  land,  and  especially  in  that  great 
peninsular  basin  which  the  Latins  called  Cambria,  and  which 
is  now  called  Wales,  the  land  of  the  Gael.  This  district 
seems  intended  by  nature  to  be  the  citadel  of  England. 
Bathed  on  three  sides  by  the  sea,  defended  on  the  iourth  by 
the  Severn  and  other  rivers,  this  quadrilateral,  moreover,  con- 
tains the  highest  mountains  in  the  southern  part  of  the 
island,  and  a  crowd  of  gorges  and  defiles  inaccessible  to  the 
military  operations  of  old.  After  having  served  as  a  refuge 
to  the  Britons  oppressed  by  the  Roman  conquest,  Cambria 
resisted  the  efforts  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  for  five  centuries, 
and  even  remained  long  inaccessible  to  the  Anglo-  ,„.,.  ,^4 
Normans,  whom  it  took  more  than  two  hundred 
years  to  complete  in  this  region  the  work  of  William  the 
Conqueror. 

Like  Ireland  and  Scotland,  and  our  own  Armorica,  this  fine 
country  has  at  all  times  been  the  object  of  lively  sympathy, 
not  only  among  learned  Celtomaniacs,  but  an)ong  all  men 
whose  hearts  are  moved  b}^  the  sight  of  a  race  which  makes 
defeat  honorable  by  the  tenacity  of  its  resistance  to  the  vie- 

VOL.  T.  56 


Cambria 
remains 


662  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

tor  —  and  still  more  among  all  lovers  of  that  inimitable  poetry 
which  springs  spontaneousl}'  from  the  traditions  and  instincts 
of  a  generous  and  unfortunate  people. 

The  unquestionable  signs  of  a  race  entirely  distinct  from 
that  which  inhabits  the  other  parts  of  Enghmd  may  still  be 
distinguished  there;  —  and  there,  too,  may  be  found  a  lan- 
guage evidently  the  sister  language  of  the  three  other  Celtic 
dialects  which  are  still  in  existence  —  the  Breton  Arraorican, 
the  Irish,  and  the  Gaelic  of  the  Scottish  Highlands. 

But  it  is,  above  all,  in  the  sudden  vicissitudes  of 
the  the  history  of  Wales,  from  King  Arthur  to  Llewel- 
of'the"'^'^^  lyn,  and  in  the  institutions  which  enabled  it  to  resist 
Celtic  the   foreign   invasion   for   seven   centuries,  that  we 

genius.  •         .  i        ,  i  ,       •    /  -  t       •    ! 

recognize  the  true  characteristics  and  rich  nature 
of  the  ancient  British  race.  Everywhere  else  the  native 
population  had  either  been  killed,  enslaved,  or  absorbed. 
But  in  this  spot,  where  it  had  sufficient  strength  to  survive 
and  flourish  along  with  the  other  nationalities  of  the  West,  it 
has  displayed  all  its  native  worth,  bequeathing  to  us  his- 
torical, juridical,  and  poetical  remains,  which  prove  the 
powerful  and  original  vitality  with  which  it  was  endowed.*^ 
By  its  soul,  by  its  tongue,  and  by  its  blood,  the  race  has  thus 
protested  against  the  exaggerated  statements  made  by  the 
Briton  Gildas,  and  the  Saxon  Bede,  of  the  corruption  of  the 
victims  of  the  Saxon  invasion.  In  all  times  there  have  been 
found  men,  and  even  the  best  of  men,  who  thus  wrong  the 
vanquished,  and  make  history  conspire  with  fortune  to  ab- 
ejolve  and  crown  the  victors.  The  turn  of  the  Anglo-Saxons 
was  to  come  ;  they  also,  when  the  Norraan  invasion  had 
crushed  them,  found  a  crowd  of  pious  detractors  to  prove 
that  they  had  merited  their  fate,  and  to  absolve  and  mitigate 
the  crimes  of  the  Conquest. 

The  most  striking,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  most  attrac- 
tive, feature  in  the  characteristic  history  of  the  Welsh  is, 
without  doubt,  the  ardor  of  patriotism,  the  invincible  love  of 
liberty  and  national  independence,  which  they  evidenced 
throughout  seven  centuries,  and  which  no  other  race  has 
surpassed.  We  are  specially  inlbrmed  of  these  qualities,  even 
by  the  servile  clironiciers  of  their  conquerors,  by  the  Anglo- 
Norman  writers  of  the  twell'th  and  thirteenth  centuries,  from 
whom  truth  extorts  tlie  most  unequivocal  eulogiums.  These 
writers  certainly  point  out  certain  vices,  and  especially  cer- 

"^  See  the  L-xccllent  work   entitled  Da.t  Alte  Wales,  by  Ferdinand  Walter, 
Professor  at  the  University  of  Bonn.     ItioS). 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  '  6G3 

tain  customs,  which  are  in  opposition  to  the  rules  of  civilized 
nations,  such  as  that  of  fighting  naked,  like  the  Britons  of 
Ceesir's  da}-,  or  the  Picts  of  a  latter  date,  against  adversaries 
armed  from  head  to,  foot.     But  they  rival  each  other 

,        ,  .  1  •      1     I  i  •  c    riie  ene 

m  celebrating  the  heroic  and  unwearied  devotion  ot  miesocthe 
the  Gael  to  their  country,  and  to  general  and  indi-  .^.i^'i.Vf^'to 
vidual  freedom;  their  reverence   for  the   achieve-  ^j]^'^"^*''- 
ments  and  memory  of  their  ancestors ;  their  love  of 
war;  their  contempt  of  life  ;  their  charity  to  the  poor;  their 
exemplary  temperance,  which  was  combined  with  inexhausti- 
ble hospitality ;  and,  above  all,  their  extraordinary  valor  in 
fight,  and  their  obstinate  constancy  througli  all  their  ie\erses 
and  disasters.'^^ 

Nothing  can  give  a  better  picture  of  this  people  than  that 
decree  of  their  ancient  laws  which  interdicted  the  seizure 
by  justice,  in  the  house  of  any  Gael  whatsoever,  of  three 
specified  things  —  his  sword,  his  harp,  and  one  of  his  books  ;  ^^ 
the  harp  and  the  book,  because  in  time  of  peace  they  re- 
garded music  and  poetry  as  the  best  occupation  of  an  honest 
and  free  man.  Thus  from  infancy  every  Gael  culti-  Their  pas- 
vated  these  two  arts,  and  especially  music,  with  |i°";^uVir^ 
passionate  and  unanimous  eagerness.  It  was  the  f"<i  po^'try. 
favorite  form,  the  gracious  accompaniment  of  hospitality. 
The  traveller  was  everywhere  received  by  choirs  of  singers. 
From  morning  to  evening  every  house  rang  with  the  sound 
of  the  harp  and  other  instruments,  played  with  a  perfection 
which  delighted  the  foreign  hearers,  who  were  at  the  same 
time  alway's  struck,  amid  all  the  skilful  turns  of  musical  art, 
by  the  constant  repetition  of  sweet  and  melancholy  chords, 

"  Let  us  quote  the  very  trorus  of  the  enemies  of  Welsh  independence; 
history  too  seldom  gives  us'  an  opportunity  of  hearing  and  repeating  detail? 
so  noble :  — 

"Patrise  tutelse  student  et  libertatis;  pro  patria  pugnant,  pro  hhe-^flte 
Liborant.  .  .  .  Continua  pristine  nobiiitatis  memoria.  .  .  .  Tant«  audaciaj 
et  ferocitatis,  ut  nudi  cuhi  arniatis  congredi  non  vereantur,  adeo  ut  sanguinem 
pro  patria  fundere  promptissime,  vitamque  velint  pro  laude  pacisci."  —  Gi- 
EALDUS,  CambricB  Descript.,  c.  8,  10.  "  In  bellico  conflictu  primo  impetu, 
acrimonia,  voce,  vultu  terribiles  tarn  .  .  .  tubarum  prjelongaruni  clangore 
altisono  quam  cursu  pernici.  .  .  .  Gens  asperrinia  .  .  .  hodie  confe.cta  et 
cruentam  in  fugani  turpiter  conversa.  eras  nihilominus  expeditionera  parat, 
nee  dainno  nee  dedecore  retardata."  —  Giuald.,  De  Illaudabilibus  WallitB, 
c.  3.  "  Niec  crapulae  dediti  nee  temulentise  ...  in  cquis  sola  et  armis  tota 
versatur  intentio.  .  .  .  Vespere  coena  sobria:  et  si  forte  nulla  vel  minima 
pars,  vesperam  alteram  patienter  expectant.  Nemo  in  hac  gente  niendicus, 
omnium  hospitia  omnibus  communia."  —  Descr.  Caw.hricB.  c.  9.  "  Omnmm 
rerum  largissimi,  ciborum  sibi  quisque  parcissimus."  —  Gcalt.  Mapes,  Dt 
Nugis  Curialium,  ii.  20. 

"  Triades  of  Dymvall  Moelmud,  54,  ap.  Walter,  p.  315, 


664  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

which  seemed  to  reflect,  as  in  the  music  of  Ireland,  the  candid 
genius  and  cruel  destiny  of"  the  Celtic  race.*^ 

The  bards  themselves,  singers  and  poets,  some- 
times even  princes  and  warriors,  presided  over  the 
musical  education  of  the  countiy  as  well  as  over  its  intellec- 
tual development.  But  they  did  not  confine  themselves  to 
song ;  they  also  fought  and  died  for  naiional  independence  ; 
the  harp  in  their  hands  was  often  only  the  auxiliary  of  the 
sword,  and  one  weapon  the  more  against  the  Saxon.^*^ 

This  powerful  corporation,  which  was  constituted  in  a 
hierarchical  form,  had  survived  tlie  ruin  of  the  Druids,  and 
appeared  in  the  sixth  century  in  its  fullest  splendor  in  the 
centre  of  those  poetic  assemblies,'^"  presided  over  by  the  kings 
and  chiefs  of  the  country,  which  were  a  truly  national  insti- 
tution, and  continued  to  exist  until  the  latest  days  of  Welsh 
independence.  In  the  numerous  relics  of  their  fertile  activity 
recently  brought  to  light  by  efforts  which  are  as  patriotic  as 
intelligent,*^  but  still  insufficiently  elucidated  —  in  those  triads 
which,  under  the  comparatively  recent  form  known  to  us, 
disguise  but  faintly  the  highest  antiquity  —  are  to  be  found 
treasures  of  true  poetry,  in  which  the  savage  grandeur  of  a 
primitive  race,  tempered  and  purified  by  the  teachings  and 
mysteries  of  the  Gospel,  seems  to  play  in  a  thousand  limpid 
currents  which  sparkle  in  the  morning  sunlight  of  history, 
before  running  into  and  identifying  themselves  with  the  great 
river  of  Christian  tradition  in  the  West. 

.  .  For  the  Christian  religion  was  adopted,  cherished, 
ty  ofthe  and  defended  amidst  the  mountains  of  Cambria  with 
*''""'■  not  less  fervor  and  passion  than  national  indepen- 

**  "Qui  matutinis  horis  adveniunt,  puellarura  affatibus  et  cytheraruiii 
inodulis  usque  ad  vesperaui  delectantur :  doiiius  enini  hie  qucelibet  puellas 
habet  ad  cytiiaras  ad  hoc  deputatas.  ...  In  musico  modulaniine  non  uni- 
forniiter,  ut  alibi;  sed  multipliciter  multisque  luodis  et  niodulis  cantilenas 
eniittunt,  adeo  ut  in  turba  canentium,  siout  huic  genti  nios  est,  quot  videas 
capita,  tot  audias  carmina  discriminaque  vocum.  varia  in  unani  denique  sub 
B  mollis  dulcedine  blanda  consonantiam  et  organicum  convenientia  nielo- 
diani.  ...  In  musicis  instrumentis  dulcedine  aures  deliniunt  et  demulcent, 
tanta  modulorum  celeritate,  pariter  et  subtilitate  feruntur,  tantamque  dis- 
crepantium  sub  tarn  praecipiti  digitorum  rapiditate  consonantiam  pra;stanti. 
.  ,  .  Semper  auteni  ab  moUi  incipiunt  et  in  idem  redeunt,  ut  cuncta  sul 
jucundae  sonoritatis  dulcedine  compleantur."  —  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  c 
10.  12,  13. 

*®  A.  DE  hk  BoRDERiE,  p.  179.     La  ViLLEMARQDE,  Les  Bardcs  Bretons. 

••'  The  Eisteddvods.     An  attempt  has  been  made  to  revive  them. 

*^  Those  of  Williams  ab  Jolo,  of  Williams  ab  Ithel,  of  the  two  Owens,  of 
Stepliens,  of  Walter,  and,  above  all,  of  M.  de  la  Villemarque,  who  has  been 
the  first  to  open  up  to  literary  France  the  history  of  a  race  naturally  sc 
dear  to  the  Bretons  of  Armorica. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  665 

dence.  Kings  and  chiefs  there  were  not  more  blameless  than 
elsewhere.  There,  too,  as  everywhere  else,  the  abuse  of 
strength  and  the  exercise  of  power  engendered  every  kind 
of  crime  :  too  often  perjury,  adultery,  and  murder  appear  in 
their  annals.^-^^  But  at  the  same  time  faith  and  repentance 
often  reclaimed  their  rights  over  souls  not  so  much  corrupt 
as  gone  astray.  In  imitation  of  the  great  Arthur,  coronation 
who  was  crowned,  according  to  Celtic  tradition,  in  of  Arthur. 
51G,  by  a  holy  archbishop  called  Dubricius,  they  almost  all 
showed  themselves  zealous  for  the  service  of  God  and  gen- 
erous to  the  Church  ;  and  the  people,  separated  from  Rome 
by  the  waves  of  blood  in  which  the  Saxon  invasion  had 
drowned  British  Christianity,  soon  displayed  again  that  nat- 
ural tendency  which  marked  them  out  to  the  Norman  con- 
querors as  tlie  most  zealous  of  all  the  pilgrims  who  made  their 
eager  way  to  the  tombs  of  the  apostles. ^^ 

The  bards,  though  they  had  existed  before  Chris-  union  of 
tianity,  far  from  being  hostile  to  it,  lived  in  an  inti-  and^he^* 
mate  and  cordial  alliance  with  the  clergy,  and  monks, 
especially  with  the  monks.  Each  monastery  had  its  bard  — 
at  once  poet  and  historian  —  who  chronicled  the  wars,  alli- 
ances, and  other  events  of  the  age.  Every  three  years  these 
national  annalists,  like  the  pontiffs  of  ancient  Rome,  assembled 
to  compare  their  narratives,  and  to  register  them  at  the  foot 
of  the  code  of  Good  customs  and  ancient  liberties  of  the  coun- 
try, of  which  they  were  the  guardians.^i  It  was  in  these 
monastic  schools  also  that  the  bards  were  trained  to  poetry 
and  to  music.  The  best  known  among  them,  Taliesin,  was 
educated,  like  the  historian  Gildas,  in  the  Monastery  of 
Llancarvan.^^ 

Let  us  here  quote  one  incident  out  of  a  hundred    .  ^   ^ 

I'll  1-1  •  11-  A  bard, 

which  throws  light  upon  the   singularly  intimate  while  ceie- 
connection  existing  between  the  poetry  of  the  Welsh  ilVJ^nf  a  ^ 
bards  and  the  legends  of  the  monastic  orders,  while   surpj-fsed 
it  shows  at  the  same  time  the  proud  intrepidity  of  by  a  flood. 

*'  See  the  numerous  examples  collected  hylamgaxA {Anglo- Saxon  Church, 
vol.  ii.  p.  3(J2),  in  the  Book  of  Llandaff,  and  other  Welsh  documents. 

50  "  pi-^  omni  peregrino  labore  Eomani  peregre  libentius  eundo,  devotia 
mentibus  apostolornm  limina  propensius  adorant." — CambricB  Descriptio, 
p.  891,  ed.  1602.  Let  us  repeat  once  more,  that  in  none  of  the  numerous 
relics  of  Welsh  archseologj'  and  geography  recently  published  can  there  be 
found  the  slightest  trace  of  hostility,  either  systematic  or  temporary,  against 
the  Holy  See. 

=■'  Walteh,  op.  cit.,  p.  S3.  Lloyd.  History  of  Cambria,  ed.  Powelli 
praef.,  p.  9. 

*'■*  La  ViLiEiiABQUE,  FoSmes  des  Bardes  Bretons,  1850,  p.  44. 

56* 


666  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

ilio  Celtic  character.  The  father  of  the  founder  of  the  Mod- 
astery  of  Llancarvaii  having  become  a  hermit,  as  will  be  nar- 
rated further  on,  died  in  the  odor  of  sanctity,  and  was  buried 
in  a  church,  to  which  crowds  were  soon  attracted  by  the 
miraculous  cures  accomplished.  Among  those  crowds  came 
a  bard  with  the  intention  of  making  a  poem  in  honor  of  the 
now  saint.  While  he  composed  his  lines  a  sudden  flood  rav- 
aged the  surrounding  country,  and  penetrated  even  into  the 
church  itself  All  the  neighboring 'population  and  their  cat- 
tle had  already  perished,  and  the  waters  continued  to  rise. 
The  bard,  while  composing  his  poem,  took  refuge  in  the 
higher  story  of  the  church,  and  then  upon  the  roof;  he 
mounted  from  rafter  to  rafter  pursued  by  the  flood,  but  still 
continuing  to  improvise  his  lines,  and  drawing  from  danger 
the  inspiration  which  had  been  previously  wanting.  When 
the  water  subsided,  from  the  tomb  of  the  hermit  to  the  Severn, 
there  remained  no  living  creature  except  the  bard,  and  no 
other  edifice  standing  except  the  church  upon  which  he  had 
put  together  his  heroic  strains.^^ 

Relics  In  this  sea  of  Celtic  legend,  where  neither  fables 

oVthesea  nor  anaclirouisms  are  sufficient  to  obscure  the  vigor- 
of  legends,  q^^  ^ud  coustaut  affirmation  of  Catholic  faith  and 
British  patriotism,  a  few  names  of  monastic  founders  and 
missionaries  still  survive.  They  have  been  rescued  from  for- 
getfulness  not  only  hy  the  revived  learning  of  Cambrian 
archasologists,  but  also  by  faithful  popular  tradition,  even 
after  the  complete  and  lamentable  extinction  of  Catholicism 
in  Wales.^*     While  surveying  their  lives,  and  examining  the 

53  <' jji-itannus  quidani  versificator  Britannice  versificans,  composuit  car- 
mina  a  gente  sua.  .  .  .  Nondum  eadem  fiuita  erant  a  compositore.  .  .  . 
Marina  undositas  contexit  cainpestria,  submergit  habitatores  et  aedificia :  equi 
cuin  bobus  nataat  in  aqua:  matres  tenebant  filios  prse  manibus  .  .  .  fiunt 
cadavera.  Ciun  viderit  undositatcm  altissimam  iinminere,  suscepit  conipo- 
nere  quartara  partem  carniinuni.  Duni  incepisset,  impieta  est  tluctiliu^ : 
post  liaec  ascendit  trabes  superius,  et  secutus  est  iteruni  tumens  fluctus  tenio 
super  tectum,  nee  cessat  ille  fungi  laudibus.  Illis  finitis  Britannus  pocta 
evasit,  domus  fuleiens  stabilivit." —  Vita  S.  Gundleii,  c.  11,  ap.  Hees,  p.  15. 

^*  See  the  important  publication  entitled  Lives  of  the  Cainbro- British 
Saints  of  the  Fifth  and  immediate  successive  Centuries,  from  ancient  Welsh 
and  Latin  MSS.,  by  the  Rev.  W.  Rees,  Llandovery,  1853;  a  work  to  which 
nothing  is  wanting  except  an  historical  and  geographical  commentary,  adapted 
for  foreign  readers.  It  is  entirely  distinct  from  the  Essay  on  the  Welsh 
Saints,  by  the  Rev.  Rice  Rees,  so  much  praised  by  Walter,  but  which  1  have 
not  been  able  to  meet  with.  The  biographies  published  by  Rees,  from  the 
MS.  in  the  Cottonian  Library,  are  partly  in  Welsh  and  partly  in  Latin ;  they 
must  have  been,  not  written,  but  certainly  retouched  at  a  later  period  than 
that  to  which  in  the  first  place  one  is  tempted  to  attribute  them.  By  the 
Bide  of  details  evidently  contemporary  and  local  are  to  be  found  traces  of 


THE  BRITISH   ISLES.  6G7 

general  scope  of  the  monastic  legends  and  institutions  con- 
nected  with  them,  the  existence  of  a  double  influence  which 
attracts  the  looks  and  steps  of  the  Gael  from  their  native 
mountains  to  Armorica  in  the  south,  and  to  Ireland  in  the 
west,  becomes  immediately  apparent ;  as  is  also  the  constant 
reflux  of  these  two  countries  back  upon  Great  Britain,  from 
whence  had  come  their  first  missionaries,  and  the  religious 
and  national  Hfe  of  which  had  concentrated  itself  more  and 
more  in  Cambria. 

The  Saxon  invasion,  as  has  been  already  seen,^^  ^pgipj.gggj 
had  thrown  upon  the    shores  of  Gaul  a  crowd  of  'n<iuf^p:«, 
fugitives,  who,  transformed  into  missionaries,  had   t-ycam- 
created    a   new    Britain,  invincibly  Christian    and  Joric^,'^aiid 
Catholic,  at  the  gates  of  Merovingian  France.     The  Jp'tln^elich 
most  celebrated  among  these  missionaries,  Tugdual,  oti^er. 
Samson,  Malo,  and  Paul  Aurelian,  had   been  educated  in  the 
Cambrian  monasteries,  from  whence  also  the  historian  Gildas 
and  the  bard  Taliesin  accompanied   them   beyond  the  seas. 
E'rom  the  earliest   days  of  her  conversion  Ireland  had  re- 
ceived   a    similar  emigration.     The    greater  part  of  these 
pious  and  brave  missionaries  came  back  once  at  least  in  their 
lives  to  visit  the  country  which  they  had  left,  leading  with 
them  disciples,  born  in  other  Celtic  lands,  but  eager  to  carry 
back  to  the  dear  and  mucli-threatened  homes  of  insular  Brit- 
ain the  light  and  fervor  which  had  first  been  received  from 
them.^^     Thence    arises   the    singular   uniformity  of  proper 
names,  traditions,  miracles,  and  anecdotes,  among  the  legends 
of  the  three  countries,  a  uniformity  which  has  often  degener- 
ated  into  inextricable  confusion. 

One  particular,  however,  which  imprints  a  uniform  The  love  oi 
and  very  distinct  character  upon  all  the  holy  monks  ^'icCe;ti(^ 

r     /-A    I    ■  .....  ^  ,.  •/  monks  lor 

ol  Celtic  origni,  is  tlieir  extraordinary  love  for  travel, 
distant  and  frequent  journeys  —  and  it  is  one  of  the  points  in 
which  the  modern  English  resemble  them  most.  At  that 
distant  age,  in  the  midst  of  barbarian  invasions,  and  of  the 
local  disorganization  of  the  Roman  world,  and  consequently 
in  the  face  of  obstacles  which  nothing  in  Europe  as  it  now 

tli'clamatory  interpolations,  which  must  have  been  the  work  of  a  posterity 
iiiiiL-h  less  devoted  than  we  are  to  local  color  and  historical  autiienticity. 

"■'  See  ante. 

*"  "  Sicut  hieniale  alvearium,  arridente  vere,  animos  extollens  .  .  .  aliud 
foras  emittit  exanien,  ut  alibi  mellificet,  ita  Letavia  (the  ancient  name  of 
Armorica),  accrescente  serenitate  religionis,  catervam  sanctorum  ad  origi- 
nem  unde  exierunt,  transmittit."  —  Vit.  S.  Paterni,  ap.  Eees,  Camhro-Brit- 
isk  Saints. 


668  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

exists  can  glv^e  the  slightest  idea  of,  they  are  visible,  travers- 
ing  immense  distances,  and  scarcely  done  with  one  laborious 
pilgrimage  before  they  begin  again  or  undertake  another. 
The  journey  to  Rome,  or  even  to  Jerusalem,  which  finds  a 
place  in  the  legend  of  almost  every  Cambrian  or  Irish  saint, 
seems  to  have  been  sport  to  them.  St.  Kentigern,  for  exam- 
ple, went  seven  times  in  succession  to  Rome.^^ 
^    ,.  This  same  Kentigern,  whom  we  shall  meet  again 

founder  of  hereafter  as  the  missionary  bishop  of  the  southern 
St.  Asaph.  g^Q|.g  g^jj(5  Picts,  is  said  to  have  been  born  of  one  of 
650.^-612,  those  irregular  unions  which  evidence  either  do- 
mestic derangement  or  the  abuse  of  power  among  the  chiefs 
and  great  men  of  the  country,  and  which  are  so  often  referred 
to  in  the  annals  of  Celtic  hagiography.^^  He  was  none  the 
less  one  of  the  principal  monastic  personages  in  Cambria, 
where  he  founded,  at  the  junction  of  the  Clwyd,^^  and  Elwy, 
an  immense  monastery,  inhabited  by  nine  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  monks,  three  hundred  of  whom,  being  illiterate,  culti- 
vated the  fields  ;  three  hundred  worked  in  the  interior  of  the 
monastery  ;  and  the  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  others  cele- 
brated divine  worship  without  interruption.^*^  This  monas- 
tery became  at  the  same  time  an  episcopal  see,  which  still 
exists  under  the  name  of  St.  Asaph,  the  successor  of  Ken- 
tigern.^i 

This  was  not,  however,  either  the  oldest  or  most  important 
monastic  colony  of  Cambria,  where,  as  in  Saxon  Eng- 
founder"of  land,  every  bishopric  was  cradled  in  a  monastery. 
LiaudafT.  ]^qi-q  than  a  century  before  Kentigern,  Dubricius, 
whose  long  life,  if  tradition  is  to  be  believed,  made  iiim  the  con- 
temporary  of  Patrick  and  Palladius  as  well  as  of  King  Arthur, 

"  Act.  SS.  Bolland.,  t.  i.  January,  p.  819. 

**  "  Matrem  liabuit  Pictorum  regis  filiara.  .  .  .  Ea  seu  vi  compressa,  seu 
dolo,  a  nobili  adolescente  cum  uteruni  gereret,  auctorem  prodere  .  .  .  per- 
tinenter  fercur  recusasse.  .  .  Pluriuiii  ex  eadem  Scottoruin  ac  Britan- 
r.orum  gente  sanctorum  par  onus  uarratur,  Fursaji,  Davidis,"  &c.  —  Bol- 
land., p.  815. 

**  This  is  the  Clwyd  of  Wales,  and  not  the  Clyde  at  Glasgow  where  St. 
Kentigern  was  bishop.  There  are  also  two  rivers  Dee  —  one  in  Wales  and 
one  in  Scotland  —  which  occasions  a  confusion  of  which  it  is  well  to  be 
warned. 

^  Bolland.,  p.  819.     This  monastery  was  at  first  called  Llan-Elwy. 

*'  Each  tribe,  every  little  princedom  of  Wales,  had  its  bishopric.  Llan- 
daff  for  the  Silurians'  Menevia  (afterwards  St.  David's)  for  the  Demetes, 
Sic.  There  was  one  also  at  Margam,  which  afterwards  became  a  celebrated 
Cistercian  abbey.  The  ruins,  enclosed  and  preserved  with  care  in  the  splen- 
did i.^sidenoe  of  a  branch  of  the  house  of  Talbot,  are  well  worthy  of  being 
visited  and  admired. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  6f)9 

is  instanced  as  the  first  founder  of  a  great  monastic  cenLre  in 
Cambria,  from  which  religious  colonies  swarmed  off  continu- 
ally  to  Armorica  and  to  Ireland.  Dubricius  was  ordained 
bishop  at  Llandaff  in  the  south  of  Wales  by  St.  Germain  of 
Auxerre,  and  ended  his  career  in  the  north  as  a  hermit,  after 
having  assembled  at  one  period  more  than  a  thousand 
auditors  round  his  pulpit.  Among  these  the  most  illustrious 
were  Iltud  and  David. 

Iltud,  or  Eltot,  who  was  also  a  disciple  of  St.  iitud,acon 
Germain,  founded  the  great  Monastery  of  Bangor  ^frfoundia' 
upon  the  banks  of  the  Dee,  which  became  a  centre  *l'°  °J"^j''^* 
of  missionary  enterprise,  as  well  as  of  political  Monastery 
resistance  to  the  foreign  conquerors ;  it  was  reck-  '^^  Bangor, 
oned  to  consist  of  seven  divisions,  each  of  three  hundred 
monks,  who  all  lived  b}''  the  labor  of  their  hands.  It  was  a 
veritable  army,  yet  still  a  half  less  than  that  of  the  four  thou- 
sand monks  of  the  other  Bangor,^^  q^  the  other  side  of  the 
Channel,  in  Ireland,  which  was  destined  to  be  the  cradle  of 
St.  Colurabanus  and  St.  Gall,  the  monastic  apostles  of  eastern 
France  and  of  Switzerland.^^  Iltud  was  born  in  Armorica, 
but  his  curious  legend,  some  touching  details  of  which  our 
readers  v/ill  thank  us  for  quoting,  records  that  he  was  at- 
tracted to  Wales  by  the  fame  of  his  cousin.  King  Arthur. 
He  began  his  life  there  as  a  man  of  war  and  of  rapine ;  but 
he  was  converted  while  hawking  by  the  sight  of  a  catastrophe 
which  befell  his  companions,  who,  at  the  moment  when  they 
had  extorted  from  the  holy  abbot  Cadoc,  the  founder  of  Llan- 
carvan,  fifty  loaves,  a  measure  of  beer,  and  a  fat  pig,  to  satisfy 
their  hunger,  were  swallowed  up  by  the  earth,  which  opened 
under  their  feet.  Iltud,  terrified  by  this  lesson  and  coun- 
eelied  by  the  abbot  Cadoc,  consecrated  himself  to  the  service 
of  God  in  solitude,  even  although  he  was  married  and  dearly 
loved  his  young  and  beautiful  wife.  At  first,  she  desired  to 
accompany  him  and  share  with  him  the  hut  of  branches  which 
he  had  built  on  the  banks  of  the  Tave,  in  Gloucestershire. 
"  What  1 "  said  an  angel  who  appeared  to  him  in  a  dream ; 

^*  There  was,  besides,  a  third  Bangor  or  Banchor,  which  is  the  existing 
bishopric  of  that  title,  and  was  also  founded  by  a  disciple  of  Dubricius,  the 
holy  abbot  Daniel,  who  died  about  548.  This  little  episcopal  see,  situated  on 
the  sea-coast,  in  the  county  of  Caernarvon,  has  often  been  confounded  with 
the  great  monastery  of  the  same  name  which  was  in  Flintshire,  on  the  banks 
of  tlie  Dee.  Ban-gor,  which  is  interpreted  to  mean  magnus  circulus,  seems, 
besides,  to  have  been  a  sort  of  generic  name  for  monastic  congregations  ox 
enclosures. 

*^  SiQQ  ante,  p.  550. 


670  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

"  thou  also  art  enthralled  by  the  love  of"  a  woman  ?  Certainly 
thy  wife  is  beautiful,  but  chastity  is  more  beautiful  still." 
Obedient  to  that  voice,  he  abandoned  his  wife,  nnd  at  the 
same  time  his  liorses  and  followers,  buried  himself  in  a  deep 
wood,  and  there  built  an  oratory  which  the  number  of  his 
disciples  soon  changed  into  a  convent.  Ho  divided  his  life 
between  great  agricultural  labors  and  fi-equent  struggles 
with  the  robber-kings  and  chiefs  of  the  neighborhood.  He 
distinguished  himself  specially  by  constructing  immense 
dikes  against  the  floods  from  which  Wales  seems  to  have 
suffered  so  much.  His  wife  pursued  him  even  into  this 
„  .  new  solitude:  but  when  she  discovered  him  at  the 

ne  IS  pur-  Ti         i-ii  i-  ^  n     t 

sued  by  his  bottom  of  a  ditch  which  he  was  himself  digging, 
wiii'uot  with  his  body  and  face  covered  with  mud,  she  saw 
w^couvlr-  that  it  was  no  longer  her  fair  knight  of  other  days, 
"o"-  and   thenceforward   gave  up  visiting   him,  lest  she 

should  displease  God  and  the  friend  of  God.  Later  in  his 
life  he  shut  liimself  up  in  a  cave  where  he  had  only  the  cold 
stone  for  his  bed.  He  took  delight  in  this  solitary  lair  for 
fovir  long  years,  and  left  it  only  twice,  to  protect  his  monas- 
tery against  violence  and  robbery.  He  died  at  Dol,  in  that 
Armorica  which  he  had  always  loved,  and  where  he  took 
pleasure  in  sending  in  times  of  famine,  to  help  his  Breton 
countrymen  beyond  seas,  shiploads  of  grain  which  were  pro- 
vided by  the  labors  of  his  Welsh  community .^'^ 

David  is  much  more  generally  known  than  his 
monk  and'  co-disciple,  Iltut.  He  has  always  continued  popu- 
bishop.  lar  among  the  inhabitants  of  Wales;  and  Shakespeare 
informs  us  that,  even  since  the  Reformation,  the  Welsh  have 
retained  the  custom  of  wearing  a  leek  in  their  hats  upon  his 

•*  "  Princeps  militiae  et  tribunus  .  .  .  miles  olim  celeberrimus.  .  .  .  Ac- 
cipitrem  per  volatiles  instigabat.  .  .  .  Astabat  angclus  ammonens:  Te  quo- 
que  muliebrls  amor  occupat  .  .  .  uxor  est  decora  sed  castimonia  est  melior. 
.  .  .  Uxore  consociante  et  arraigeris  .  .  .  composuit  tegmen  ex  arundineto 
ut  non  plueret  super  lectum.  .  .  .  Mulier  licet  induta  finxit  se  frigescere  cum 

tremulo  pectore,   quatenus  posset  in  Iccto  denuo   collateralis  jacere 

OperatU8  est  immensam  fossam  limo  et  lapidibus  niixtam,  quaiu  retruderet 
irruentem  undam.  .  .  .  Ubi  operosum  vidit  fossorem  per  assidua  fossura 
lutulentum  perfaciens  ,  .  .  inquisivit  ab  eo  suave  colloquium.  .  .  .  Con- 
spexit  ilia  vilem  babitum  .  .  .  non  sicut  antea  viderat  militem  speciosum. 
.  .  .  Kemar.sit  itaque  .  .  .  nunquam  amplius  visitans  eum,  qufe  nolebat  dis- 
plicere  Deo  et  Dei  dilectissimo.  .  .  .  Tota  nocte  jacebat  super  frigidam 
petrara  .  .  .  quasi  diceret : 

"  Hoc  lapis  in  lecto  positus  sub  pectore  nostro, 
Hec  mea  dulcedo  :  jaceam  pro  Numine  suramo. 
Mollis  erit  nierces  ventura  beata  beato, 
Que  manet  in  coelo  michi  debita,  quando  rodibo." 

Vita  S.  Iltuti,  Rees,  pp.  45,  161-182. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  671 

fea^l-day.^^  His  history  has  been  often  written,^^  and  through 
the  transformation  of  the  leg:end  it  is  still  easy  to  recognize 
in  it  tlie  salutary  sway  of  a  great  monk  and  bishop  over  souls 
which  were  faithful  to  religion,  but  yet  in  full  conflict  with 
those  savage  and  sensual  impulses  whiph  are  to  be  found  only 
too  universally  among  all  men  and  all  nations,  in  the  centre 
of  civilization  as  on  the  verge  of  barbarism.  The  origin,  in- 
deed, of  the  holy  patron  of  Cambria  himself,  like  that  of  St: 
Bridget,  the  patroness  of  Ireland,  affords  a  startling  proof  ol 
a  fitate  of  affairs  both  corrupt  and  violent.  He  was  the  son 
of  a  nun  whom  the  king  of  the  country  —  a  nephew  of  the 
great  xirthur  —  met  upon  the  public  road,  and  whom,  stiuck 
by  her  beauty,  he  instantly  made  the  victim  of  his  passion.^' 
This  crime  is  told  by  all  the  biographers  of  David,  generally 
so  lavish  of  praise  and  blame,  without  the  least  expression  of 
surprise  or  indignation.  The  scribe  Paulinus,  whose  name  in- 
dicates a  Roman  origin,  and  who  is  known  to  have  been  a  dis- 
ciple of  St.  Germain  of  Auserre,  was  charged  with  the  educa- 
tion of  the  young  David,  which  was  as  long  and  complete  as 
possible.^^  He  issued  from  his  tutor's  hands  clothed  with 
the  priesthood  and  devoted  to  a  kind  of  monastic  existence 

65  u  Pistol.     Art  thou  of  Cornish  crew? 
King  Henry.     No,  I'm  a  Welshman - 
Pistol.     Knowest  thou  Fluellen? 
King.     Yes. 

Pistol.     Tell  him  I'll  knock  his  leek  about  his  pate 
Upon  St.  Davy's  day." 
And  afterwards :  — 

"  Fluellen.     I  do  believe  your  majesty  takes  no  scorn 
To  wear  the  leek  upon  St.  Davy's  day. 

King.     I  wear  it  for  a  memorable  honor :   , 
For  I  am  Welsh,  you  know,  good  countryman." 

King  Henry  V. 
®'  Notably  by  an  anonymous  writer,  of  whose  work  the  Franciscan  Colgan 
has  publislied  a  first  version  in  his  Acta  Sanctorum  Hihernia;,  vol.  i.  Rice- 
march,  the  successor  of  David  as  bishop  of  Menevia  towards  1085,  gave  a 
much  more  complete  version  of  this  first  biography,  which  has  been  pub- 
lished by  Rees  in  his  Lives  of  Cambro- British  Saints.  Another  of  iiis  suc- 
cessors, the  famous  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  has  also  written  a  life  of  St.  David, 
which  may  be  found  in  Wharton's  Anglia  Sacra,  vol.  ii.  The  date  and  dura- 
tion of  his  life  is,  however,  very  uncertain  :  according  to  Usserius  he  lived 
between  472  and  554;  according  to  the  BoUandists,  betAveen  447  and  544; 
according  to  other  authorities,  between  484  and  566. 

®'  "Invenit  rex  obviani  sibi  sanctam  monialem,  Nonnitam  virginem, 
puellam  pulchram  nimis  et  decoram,  quam,  concupiscens  tetigit  vj  oppres- 
sam."  —  RicEMARCH,  ed.  Rees,  p.  119.  "In  quam  ut  oculos  injecit,  in  cu- 
pidinem  ejus  medullitus  exardens,  statim  equo  dilapsus,  virgineis  amplexibus 
est  delectatus."  —  Giraldus,  p.  629. 

*•*  "  Quique  eum  docuit  in  tribus  partibus  lectionis,  donee  fuit  scriba; 
mansit  ibi  multis  annis  Icgendo,  implendoque  quod  legebat."  —  Ricemabch. 
p.  122. 


672  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN    OF 

which  did  not  exclude  him  either  from  Continental  travel, 
nor  from  exercising  a  great  influence  over  men  and  external 
Hebe-  affairs.  He  exercised  a  double  power  over  his 
Benldict  of  countrjmen,  by  directing  one  part  to  cenobitical 
Cambria.  life,  and  arming  the  other  with  the  knowledge  and 
virtue  which  enabled  them  to  triumph  over  the  dangers  of  a 
secular  career.  It  is  on  this  latter  point  that  he  differs  from 
his  illustrious  contemporary,  St.  Benedict,  whom  he  resem- 
bles in  so  man}^  other  features.  Like  Benedict,  he  founded, 
almost  at  one  time,  twelve  monasteries  ;  like  Benedict,  he 
saw  his  young  disciples  tempted  to  their  fall  by  the  voluptu- 
ous wiles  of  shameless  women;  like  Benedict,  he  was  ex- 
posed to  the  danger  of  being  poisoned  by  traitors  in  the 
very  bosom  of  his  own  community  ;^^  and,  finally,  like  Bene- 
dict, he  imposed  upon  his  monks  a  rule  which  severely  pro- 
hibited all  individual  property,  and  made  manual  and  in- 
tellectual labor  obligatory.  The  agricultural  labor  thus 
prescribed  was  so  severe,  that  the  Welsh  monks  had  not 
onl}'  to  saw  the  wood  and  delve  the  soil,  but  even  to  yoke 
themselves  to  the  plough,  and  work  without  the  aid  of  oxen. 
As  soon  as  this  toil  came  to  an  end  they  returned  to  their 
cells  to  pass  the  rest  of  the  day  in  reading  and  writing;  and 
when  thus  engaged  it  was  sometimes  necessary  to  stop  in 
the  midst  of  a  letter  or  paragraph,  to  answer  to  the  first 
sound  of  the  bell,  by  which  divine  service  was  announced.'''^ 

In  the  midst  of  these  severe  labors  the  abbot  David  had 
continual  struggles  with  the  satrajjs  and  magicians,  which, 
no  doubt,  means  the  chiefs  of  the  clan  and  the  Druids,, who 
had  not  been  destroyed  in  Britain,  as  in  Gaul,  by  the  Roman 

^®  "Convocatis  ancillis:  Ite,  inquit  uxor  eatrapae,  ad  flumen  Alum,  et, 
nuuatis  corporibus,  in  conspectu  sanctorum  ludite.  .  .  .  Ancillas  obediunt 
,  .  .  impudicos  exercent  ludos  .  .  .  concubitus  simulant  blandos  .  .  .  mo- 
nachoram  mentes  quorumdam  ad  libidines  protrahunt,  quorumdam  molestant. 
Cuncti  vcro  discipuli  ejus  dixerunt  David  :  Fugiamus  ex  hoc  loco,  quia  non 
possumus  hie  habitare  propter  molestiara  niuliercularum  malignantium.  Dia- 
conus  qui  pani  rainistrare  consuluerat,  paneir  veneno  confectum  mensa  im- 
ponit,  cui  coquus  et  ceconomus  consenscrant." —  Ricemarch,  p.  125-31. 

70  u  Pede  nianuque  laborant,  jugura  ponunt  in  humero,  suffossarias  veran- 
gasque  invicto  brachio  terre  defigunt,  sarculos  serrasque  ad  succidendum 
Sanctis  ferunt  raanibus.  .  .  .  Bourn  nulla  ad  arandum  cura  introducitur. 
Quisque  sibi  et  fratribus  divitis,  quisque  et  bos.  .  .  .  Peracto  rurali  opere, 
totani  ad  vesperani  pervagabant  diem  aut  legendo  aut  scritendo  aut  orando 
.  .  .  vespere  cura  nole  pulsus  audiebatur,  quisquis  sludium  detexebat,  si 
enim  auribus  cujuscumque  pulsus  resonarct,  scripto  tunc  litere  apice  vel 
etiam  dimidia  ejusdem  litere,  figura  citius  assurgentes  .  .  .  ecclesiam  petunt, 
earn  incompletam  dimmittebar.t."  —  Kick.makch,  p.  127.  I  quote  literally  the 
Latin  of  Ricemarch,  which  is  often  very  singular.  Further  on  he  adds 
Greek  after  his  fashion. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  673 

conquest/^  and  whose  last  surviving  representatives  could 
not  see,  without  violent  dislike,  the   progress  of  monastic  in- 
stitutions.    But  the  sphere  of  David's  influence  and  activity 
was  to  extend  far  beyond  that  of  his  early  work.   He  goes  to 
Having  made  a  pilgrimage  to  the   Holy  Land,  he   jj;;;",'^^'^'™'^ 
returned   thence  invested  with  the  office  of  arch-   Arch- 
bishop, which  had  been  conferred  upon  him  by  the   ^'*'^°p- 
patriarch  of  Jerusalem.'^  On  his  return  he  was  acknowledged 
metropolitan  of  all  that  part  of  the  island  not  yet  invaded  by 
the  Saxons,  by  two  very  numerously  attended  councils,'3  in 
which  he  had  the  honor  of  striking  a  death-blow  at        ^^^ 
the  Pelagian  heresy,  which  had  come  to  life  again 
since  the  mission  of  St.  Germain. 

One  of  these  councils  recognized  in  his  honor  a  uicjhtof 
right  of  asylum,  pointed  out  by  ancient  authors  as  ojvcuTo 
the  most   respected  and  the   most  complete  which    i^avid. 
existed  in  Britain,  and  which  created  for  ail  pursued  culprits 
an  inviolable  refuge  wherever  there  was  a  field  which  had 
been  given  to  David.'^     This  is  one  of  the  first  examples,  as 
conferred   upon  a  monastic   establishment,  of  that   right  of 
asylum,  afterwards  too  much    extended,  and    disgracefully 
abused  towards  the  end  of  the  middle  ages,  but  which,  at 
that  far-distant  period,  was  a  most  important  protection  to 
the   weak.     Who  does  not  understand    how  irregular   and 
brutal  was  at  that  time  the  pursuit  of  a  criminal;  how  many 
vile  and  violent  passions  usurped  the  office  of  the  law  ;  and 

^'  DcELLiNGER,  Heidenthum  und  Jiidenthum,  p.  611. 

"  Compare  Bolland.,  Act.  SS.,  Martii,  t.  i.  p.  40. 

7^  At  Breves  in  519,  and  at  Victoria  in  526.  The  expressions  of  Rice- 
march  upon  this  last  synod  are  worthy  of  remark,  since  they  prove  the 
presence  of  abbots  beside  the  bishops  of  the  council,  and  the  undisputed 
recognition  of  Roman  autliority.  It  remains  to  be  ascertained,  liowever, 
whL'ther  tliis  writer  of  tlie  eleventh  century  did  not  attribute  the  customs  of 
his  own  time  to  a  previous  age.  "Aliasynodus  .  .  .  in  qua  coUecta  episco- 
poruni,  sacerdotum,  abatuni  turba  .  .  .  cunctorum  consensu  .  .  •  omnium 
ordinum  totius  Britanniee  gentis  archiepiscopus  coiistitutus.  .  .  .  Ex  his 
duabus  synodis  omnes  nostras  patriae  ecclesiae  modum  et  regulam  Romana 
auctoritate  receperunt." 

'■*  "  Dederuntque  universi  episcopi  manus  et  monarchiam,  et  hragmina- 
tionem  Uavid  agio,  et  consenserunt  omnes  licitura  esse  refugium  ejus  ut 
daret  illud  omni  stupro  et  homicide  et  peccatori,  omnique  maligno  fugienti 
de  loco  ad  locum  pro  omni  sancto  ac  regibus  et  hominibus  totius  Britanniae 
insulae  in  omni  regno,  et  in  unaquaque  regione  in  qua  sit  ager  consecratus 
David  agio.  Et  nulli  reges  neque  seniores,  neque  satrapse,  sed  neque  epis- 
copi principesve  ac  sancti  audeant  prae  David  agio  refugium  dare ;  ipse  vero 
refusium  ducit  ante  unumquemque  liominem,  et  nemo  ante  ipsum,  quia  ipse 
est  caput  et  previus  ac  bragmaticus  omnibus  Brittonibus.  Et  statueruni 
omnes  sancti  anathema  esset  et  maledictum,  quisquis  non  servaverit  illud  de- 
creium  silicet  refugium  sancti  David."  —  Ricemarch,  p.  140. 

VOL.  I.  57 


674.  CHRISTIAN  ORIGIN   OF 

how  justice  herself  and  humanity  had  reason  to  rejoice  when 
religion  stretched  her  maternal  hands  over  a  fugitive  unjust- 
ly accused,  or  even  over  a  culprit  who  might  be  worthy  of 
excuse  or  indulgence  ! 

David  immediately  resumed  his  monastic  and  ecclesiastical 
foundations,'-^  and  restored  for  the  first  time  from  its  ruins 
the  Church  of  Glastonbury,  so  that  it  might  consecrate  the 
tomb  of  his  cousin  King  ArthurJ*^  He  himself  died 
more  than  a  hundred  years  old,  surrounded  by  the 
ret'erence  of  all,  and  in  reality  the  chief  of  the  British  ua- 
tion.''^  He  was  buried  in  the  Monastery  of  Menevia,  which 
he  had  built  at  the  southern  extremity  of  Wales,  facing  Ire- 
land, on  a  site  which  had  been  indicated  thirty  years  before 
by  St.  Patrick,  the  apostle  of  that  island.  It  was  of  all  his 
foundations  the  one  most  dear  to  him,  and  he  had  made  of  it 
the  seat  of  a  diocese  which  has  retained  his  name. 
„.  ,    .  After  his  death  the  monastic  tomb  of  the  great 

His  tomb        ,.,  iT-.--ii'fi  IP  J 

becomes  bishop  and  British  chiei  became  a  much-irequented 
ean'tiia^y'^  placc  of  pilgrimage.  Not  only  the  Welsh,  Bretons, 
ofcambria.  ,^^^^  Irish  Came  to  it  in  crowds,  but  three  Anglo- 
Norman  kings  —  William  the  Conqueror,  Henry  11.,  and  Ed- 
ward I.  —  appeared  there  in  their  turn.  David  was  canon- 
ized by  Pope  Calistus  II.  in  1120,  at  a  period  when  Wales 
still  retained  its  independence.  He  became  from  that  mo- 
ment, and  has  remained  until  the  present  time,  the  patron  of 
Cambria.  A  group  of  half-ruined  religious  buildings,  forming 
altogether  one  of  the  raobt  solemn  and  least  visited  relics  of 
Europe,  still  surrounds  the  ancient  cathedral  which  bears  his 
name,  and  crowns  the  imposing  promontory,  thrust  out  into 
the  sea  like  an  eagle's  beak,  from  the  south-eastern  corner  of 
the  principality  of  Wales,  which  is  still  more  deserving  than 
the  two  analogous  headlands  of  Cornwall  and  Armorica,  of 
the  name  of  Finisterre.'^ 

Legend  of  Immediately  after  the  period  occupied  in  the  an 
St.  cadoc.  j-,jjjg  Qj-  Cambria  by  King  Arthur  and  the  monk-bishop 
522-590?  David,  another  monastic  and  patriotic  saint  becomes 
visible,  who,  like  his  predecessor,  remained  long  popular 
among  the  Britons  of  Wales,  and  is  so  still  among  the  Bretons 

7!s  a  pgj.  cuncta  totius  patriae  loca  monasteria  construxere  fratres  .  .  . 
quanta  nionacliorum  exainina  seminavit." 

'*  RiCEMARCH.  p.  125;  DuGDALE,  t.  i.  p.  1-7;  BoLLAND..  loc.  cit. 

"  "  Oiiinis  Britannise  gentis  caput  et  patriae  honor."  —  Eees,  p.  140. 

'''^  A  group  of  rocl£s  near  this  promontory  is  still  called  The  Bishop  and 
nii  Clerks.  It  lies  a  little  way  to  the  north  of  the  celebrated  Roads  of  Mil- 
ford  Haven  and  the  great  dockyard  of  the  English  navy  at  Pembroke. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  675 

of  Armorica.  This  was  St.  Cadoc  or  Kadok,  a  personage  re- 
garding whom  it  will  be  very  difficult  to  make  an  exact  dis- 
tinction between  history  and  legend,  biit  whose  life  has  left 
so  profound  an  impression  upon  the  Celtic  races,  tliat  we 
may  be  permitted  to  borrow  from  it  certain  details,  which 
will  set  in  a  clear  light  the  faith  and  manners  of  these  races 
and  of  that  ageJ^  His  father,  Gundliew  or  Guen-Liou,  sur- 
named  the  Warrior,  one  of  the  petty  kings  of  southern  Cam- 
bria, having  heard  much  of  the  beauty  of  the  daughter  of  a 
neighboring  chief,  had  her  carried  off,  by  a  band  of  three 
hundred  vassals,  from  the  midst  of  her  sisters,  and  from  the 
door  of  her  own  chamber,  in  her  father's  castle. ^'^  The  fother 
hastened  to  the  rescue  of  his  daughter  with  all  his 
vassals  and  allies,  and  soon  overtook  Guen-Liou,  stolen  pnn- 
who  rod?  with  the  young  princess  at  the  croup,  go-  ^robber'-''* 
ing  softly  not  to  fatigue  her.  It  was  not  an  en-  ^'"°- 
counter  favorable  for  the  lover  :  two  hundred  of  his  followers 
perished,  but  he  himself  succeeded  in  escaping  safely  with 
the  lady,  whose  attractions  he  had  afterwards  to  conceal 
from  the  passion  of  King  Arthur ;  ^^  for  that  great  king  is 
far  from  playing  in  all  the  monastic  legends  the  chivalric 
and  disinterested  part  afterwards  attributed  to  him  by  the 
host  of  national  and  European  traditions  of  which  he  is  the 
hero.  Of  this  rude  warrior  and  his  beautiful  princess  was  to 
be  born  the  saint  who  has  been  called  the  Doctor  of  the  Cam- 
brian race,  and  who  founded  the  great  monastic  establishment 
which  has  been  already  mentioned  here.  The  ver}''  night  of 
his  birth  the  soldiers,  or,  to  speak  more  justly,  the  robber- 
followers  (latrones),  of  the  king  his  father,  who  had  been  sent 
to  pillage  the  neighbors  right  and  lelt,  stole  the  milch  cow 
of  a  holy  Irish  monk,  who  had  no  sustenance,  he  nor  his 
twelve  disciples,  except  the  abundant  milk  of  this  cow. 
When  informed  of  this  nocturnal  theft,  the  monk  got  up,  put 

''    Vita  S.  Cadoci,  ap.  Rees,  op.  cit.,  p.  22-96;  Heksart  de  la  Ville 
MA.KQUE,  La  Legende  CeHique,  p.  127-227. 

*"  Talgarth,  nine  miles  from  the  town  of  Brecknock.  The  name  of  tlie 
beautiful  princess  was  Gwladys,  in  Latin  Gladusa,  and  that  of  her  father 
Brychan  or  Braohan. 

81  44  Puellam  eieganti  quidem  specie,  seil  et  forma  valde  decoram.  .  .  . 
Virginem  ante  conclavis  suss  januam  cum  ipsius  sororibus  sedentem  pudi- 
cisque  sermonibus  vacantem  .  .  .  statim  vi  capientes  obstinato  cursu  regre- 
diuntur  .  .  .  Gundlaus  .  .  .  jussit  puellam  att'erri  .  .  .  haud  fugiendo,  sed 
pedetentim  secum  gestans  adolescentulam  in  equo.  .  .  .  Ubi  corpora  incolu- 
mis  cum  praenotata  virgine  .  .  .  terniinos  suaj  terras  attigisset  .  .  .  ecce 
Arthurus :  .  .  .  Scitote  me  vehementer  in  concupiscentiam  puellae  liujus 
quam  ille  miles  equitando  devehit  accendi." —  Vita  S.  Cadoci,  ap.  Rees, 
p.  23. 


616  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

on  his  shoes  in  all  haste,  and  hurried  to  reclaim  his  cow  from 
the  king,  who  was  still  asleep.  The  latter  took  advantage  of 
the  occasion  to  have  his  new-born  son  baptized  by  the  pious 
solitary,  and  made  him  promise  to  undertake  the  education 
and  future  vocation  of  the  infant.  The  Irishman  gave  him 
the  name  of  Cadoc,  which  in  Celtic  means  warlike  ;  and  then, 
having  recovered  his  cow,  went  back  to  his  cell  to  await  the 
king's  son,  who  was  sent  to  him  at  the  age  of  seven,  having 
already  learned  to  hunt  and  to  fight.^^ 

The  young  prince  passed  twelve  years  with  the 
by^n^rish  Irish  uiouk,  whom  he  served,  lighting  his  fire  and 
*"°°^''  cooking  his  food,  and  who  taught  him  grammar  ac- 

cording to  Priscian  and  Donatus.^^  Preferring  the  life  of  a 
recluse  to  the  throne  of  his  father,  he  went  to  Ireland  for 
three  years,  to  carry  on  his  education  at  Lismore,  a  cele- 
brated monastic  school,  after  which  he  returned  to  Cambria, 
and  continued  his  studies  under  a  famous  British  rhetorician, 
newly  arrived  from  Italy,  who  taught  Latin  and  the  liberal 
arts  after  the  best  Roman  system.^*  This  doctor  had  more 
pupils  than  money  :  famine  reigned  in  his  school.  One  day 
poor  Cadoc,  who  fasted  continually,  was  learning  his  lesson 
in  his  cell,  seated  before  a  little  table,  and  leaning  his  head 
on  his  hands,  when  suddenly  a  white  mouse,  coming  out  of  a 
hole  in  the  wall,  jumped  on  the  table  and  put  down  a  grain 
of  corn  ;  but  being  unable  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  stu- 
dent, she  returned  with  a  second  and  third  grain,  and  con- 
tinued until  seven  grains  lay  before  his  ej^es.  Then  Cadoc 
rising,  followed  the  mouse  into  a  cellar,  where  he  found  de- 
posited an  enormous  heap  of  corn,^^  This  wheat,  a  gift  of 
Providence,  gave  sustenance  to  the  master  and  his  pupils ; 
and,  according  to  the  wish  of  Cadoc,  was  shared  with  all  who 
were  in  want  like  themselves. 

Having   early  decided  to  embrace  monastic  life,  he    hid 

^^  "  Satellites  suos  ssepius  ad  rapinam  ct  latrocinia  instigabat.  .  .  .  Qui- 
ilam  ex  Gundleii  latronibus  ad  quoddain  oppidum  .  .  .  furandi  causa  perve- 
nerunt,  quos  prenotatus  Gundleius  rex  fares  diligebat,  eosque  saepius  ad 
latrocinia  instigabat.  .  .  .  Surge  vcluciter  .  .  .  et  calcia  caligas  tuas,  nam 
bos  tua  a  furibus  exstat  ablata  .  .  .  ad  triclinium  in  quo  dormierat  rex  .  .  . 
adepta  prfedicta  bove."  —  Rees,  pp.  85,  25,  21. 

^^  "  Tibi  filium  meum  coiumendo  .  .  .  ut  ilium  liberalibus  artibus  divi- 
nisque  dogmatibus  erudias.  .  .  .  Ilium  Donato,  Priscianoque,  necnon  aliis 
artibus,  per  annos  duodecini  diligentius  instruxit."  — P.  28. 

•**  "  Ab  illo  Romano  more  latinitate  doceri  non  minimum  optavit." —  VUa, 
c.  8. 

85  "Mus  septies  eundo  et  redeundo  totidem  triticea  in  suo  volumine  abdi- 
dit.  animadvertens  indicio  divinam  sibi  adesse  miserationem."  —  Ibid. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  6/7 

himself  in  a  wood,  where,  after  makinar  a  narrow   P,^;/?""''* 

'       ,  ,       '  ^-^  ,  Xjl'itlCilI  Vilil[ 

escape  from  assassination  by  the  armed  swine-  tiiei)urying 
herd  of  a  neigliboring  chief,  he  saw,  near  a  forgotten  killgt  and*^ 
fountain,  an  enormous  wild  boar,  white  with  age,  "hd'^reat"*^ 
come  out  of  his  den,  and  make   three   bounds,  one   monastic 

'      .  ,  .  1  .  scliool  of 

alter   the  other,  stopping  each  time,  and   turning  waics. 

round  to  stare   furiously  at  the  stranger  who  had  disturbed 

him  in  his  resting-place.     Cadoc  marked  with  three  branches 

the  three  bounds  of  the  wild  boar,  which  afterwards  became 

the  site  of  the  church,  dormitories,  and  refectory  of  the  groat 

Abbey  of  Llancarvan,  of  wliich   he  was   the  founder.     The 

abbey  took  its  name  [Ecclesia  Cervorum)  from  the  celebrated 

legend,  according  to  which,  two  deer  from  the  neighboring 

wood    came  one    day   to    replace  two   idle  and  disobedient 

monks  who  had  refused  to  perform  the  necessary  labor  for 

the   construction  of  the   monastery,  saying,  "  Are  we   oxen, 

that  we  should  be  yoked  to  carts,  and  compelled  to  drag  tim- 
ber? "§3 

Llancarvan,  however,  was  not  only  a  great  workshop,  where 
numerous  monks,  subject  to  a  very  severe  rule,  bowed  their 
bodies  under  a  yoke  of  continual  fatigue,  clearing  the  forests, 
and  cultivating  the  fields  when  cleared  ;  it  was,  besides,  a 
great  religious  and  literary  school,  in  which  the  study  and 
transcription  of  the  Hol}^  Scriptures  held  the  van,  and  was 
followed  by  that  of  the  ancient  authors  and  their  more  recent 
commentators. 

Among  the  numerous  pupils  whom  it  received  —  some  to 
follow  the  monastic  life  for  the  rest  of  their  days,  some  only 
to  carry  on  their  ordinary  education  —  were  many  chiefs' 
and  kings'  sons  like  Cadoc  himself.  To  these  he  addressed 
special  instructions,  which  may  be  summed  up  in  the  two 
sentences  which  a  prince  of  North  Wales  remembered  long 
after  to  have  heard  from  his  own  lips  — '' Remeniber  that 
thou  art  a  man  ;  "  "  There  is  no  king  like  him  who  is  king  ot 
himself."  S' 

Cadoc  loved  to  sum  up,  chiefly  under  the  form   p^g^jg 
of  sentences  in  verse  and  poetical  aphorisms,  the  aphorisroa 
instructions  given  to  the  pupils  of  the  Llancarvan 
cloister.     A  great  number  of  such  poetical  utterances,  which 
have  been  preserved  in  the  memory  of  the  Gael  and  brought 
to  light  by  modern  erudition,  are  attributed  to  him.     We  in 
stance  some,  which  are  not  the  less  interesting  and  touch- 

86  ((  Nuinquid  more  boum  plaustra  gestare  valenius?" 
^^  La  Villemarqub,  p.  184. 

57* 


678  CHRISTIAN    ORIGIN    OF 

ing,  for  having  been  produced  in  a  British  cloister  in  the 
sixth  century,  under  the  disturbing  influences  of  Saxon  in- 
vasion, and  lar  from  all  the  fountains  of  classic  wisdom  and 
bfjauty  :  — 

Truth  is  the  elder  daugliter  of  God. 
Without  light  nothing  is  good. 
Without  liglit  there  is  no  piety. 
Without  light  there  is  no  religion. 
Without  light  there  is  no  faith. 
There  is  no  light  without  the  sight  of  God. 

The  same  thought  is  afterwards  reproduced  under  anothei 
form :  — 

Without  knowledge,  no  power. 

Without  knowledge,  no  wisdom. 

Without  knowledge,  no  freedom. 

Without  knowledge,  no  beauty. 

Without  knowledge,  no  nobleness. 

Without  knowledge,  no  victory. 

Without  knowledge,  no  honor. 

Without  knowledge,  no  God. 

The  best  of  attitudes  is  humility. 

The  best  of  occupations,  work. 

The  best  of  sentiments,  pity. 

The  best  of  cares,  justice. 

The  best  of  pains,  that  which  a  man  takes  to  make  peace 

between  two  enemies. 
The  best  of  sorrows,  sorrow  for  sin. 
The  best  of  characters,  generosity. 

The  poet  then  makes  his  appearance  by  the  side  of  the 
theologian  and  morahst :  — 

No  man  is  the  son  of  knowledge  if  he  is  not  the  son  of  poetry. 

No  man  loves  poetry  without  loving  the  light; 

Nor  the  light  without  loving  the  truth ; 

Nor  the  truth  without  loving  justice; 

Nor  justice  without  loving  God. 

And  he  who  loves  God  cannot  fail  to  be  happy. 

The  love  of  God  was,  then,  the  supreme  aim  of  his  teach- 
ing as  of  his  life.  When  one  of  his  disciples  asked  him  to 
define  it,  he  answered  :  — 

"Love,  it  is  Heaven." 

"And  hate?  "  asked  the  disciple. 

"Hate  is  Hell." 

"  And  conscience?  " 

"It  is  the  eye  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man."  ^^ 

Cadoc  asked  nothing  from  the  postulants  who  came  to  take 
the  cowl  in  his  monastery.     On  the  contrary,  in  order  to  gain 

^*  I  borrow  these  quotations  from  those  drawn  by  M.  Walter  and  M.  de  la 
Villemarque  from  the  collection  entitled  3Iyvyrian  Archeology  of  Wales, 
London, 1801-7. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  679 

admission  it  was  necessary  to  lay  aside  evcrytliing,  even  to 
the  last  article  of  dress,  and  to  be  received  naked  as  a  sJup- 
wrecked  man,  according  to  the  expression  of  tlie  rule.^'*  This 
was  the  easier  to  him  that  he  was  himself  rich  by  means  of 
the  gifts  of  land  given  him  by  his  father  and  maternal  grand- 
father.0O 

Cadoc  had  the  happiness  of  assisting  in  the  con-  Penitence 
version  of  his  father  before  he  became  his  heir.  In  father  and 
the  depths  of  his  cloister  he  groaned  over  the  rap-  mother, 
ines  and  sins  of  the  old  robber  from  whom  he  derived  his  life 
and  his  monastic  possessions.  Accordingly  he  sent  to  his 
father's  house  three  of  his  monks,  who,  after  having  con- 
sulted with  the  elders  and  lords  of  the  country,  undertook 
to  preach  repentance  to  the  father  of  their  abbot.  His 
mother,  the  beautiful  Gladusa,  carried  off  of  old  by  King 
Guen-Liou,  was  the  first  to  be  touched.  "  Let  us  believe,'' 
she  said,  '*  in  our  son,  and  let  him  be  our  father  for  heaven." 
And  it  was  not  long  before  she  persuaded  her  husband  to 
agree  with  her.  They  called  their  son  to  make  to  him 
public  confession  of  their  sins,  after  which  the  king  said, 
'*  Let  all  my  race  obey  Cadoc  with  true  piety,  and  after 
death  let  all  the  kings,  earls,  and  chiefs,  and  all  the  servants 
of  the  kings,  be  buried  in  his  cemetery."  ^^  Then  the  father 
and  son  chanted  together  the  psalm,  "  Exaudiat  te  Dominies 
in  die  tribulationis.^'  "When  this  was  ended  the  king  and 
queen  retired  into  solitude,  establishing  themselves  in  the 
first  place  at  a  short  distance  from  each  other,  in  two  cabins 
on  the  bank  of  a  river.  They  lived  there  by  the  work  of 
their  hands,  without  other  food  than  barley  bread,  in  which 
there  was  a  minghng  of  ashes,  and  cresses,  the  bitterness  cf 
which  was  sweet  to  them  as  a  foretaste  of  heaven.  One  of 
their  principal  austerities,  which  is  also  to  be  found  in  the 
history  of  various  other  Celtic  and  Anglo-Saxon  saints,  was 
to  bathe,  in  winter  as  in  summer,  in  cold  water  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  and  to  pass  its  remaining  hours  in  prayer. 
Cadoc  visited  them  often  and  exhorted  them  to  persever- 
ance ;  he  ended  even  by  persuading  them  to  give  up  the 
comparative  sweetness  of  their  life  together.  His  mothe.- 
was  still  the  first  to  obey  him.     She  sought  out  a  more  pro- 

^  La  Villemarqub,  p.  160. 

""  The  boundaries  of  his  lands  are  very  exactly  noted  by  his  biographer, 
Rees,  pp.  38,  45,  and  336. 

*'  Llancarvan  actually  became  the  burying-place  of  the  Welsh  kings  and 
nobility  as  long  as  the  independence  of  the  country  lasted;  but,  strangely 
enough,  King  Guen-Liou  was  not  himself  buried  there. 


680  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN    OF 

found  solitude,  and  disappeared  there.  Guen-Liou  followed 
hor  example.  He  died  soon  after  in  his  son's  arms,  leaving 
him  all  his  lands.^^  One  would  fain  hope  that  the  same  con- 
solation was  accorded  to  a  mother  so  generous,  but  the 
legend  is  silent  as  to  her  death. 

He  rotects  These  patrimonial  gifts  conferred  upon  Cadoc 
thecuiti-  great  territorial  wealth,  and  an  external  power 
hfsdonKiin  whiclj  he  uscd  to  secure  around  his  monastery  the 
nef'-hbor-  Safety  and  wellbeing  which  were  nowhere  else  to 
hood  be  found.     '•'  To  know  the  country  of  Cadoc,"  it 

Bgainst  the  •  ^     ,,  ■ ,     ■  i  ,         t  i 

vioiencpof  was  Said,  "  it  IS  Only  necessary  to  discover  where 
theyreat.  ^^^^^  cattle  feed  in  freedom,  where  the  men  fear 
nothing,  and  where  everything  breathes  peace."  ^^  His 
wealth  permitted  him  to  accomplish  with  success  and  energy 
the  noble  mission  which  is  the  most  interesting  part  of  his 
life;  in  which  he  appeared  as  the  protector  of  his  dependants 
and  neighbors,  the  guardian  of  the  goods  of  the  poor,  of  the 
honor  of  women,  of  the  weakness  of  the  humble,  and  of  all 
the  lower  classes  of  the  Cambrian  people,  against  the  op- 
pression, pillage,  violence,  and  extortions  of  the  princes  and 
the  powerful.  His  personal  character,  courageous  and  com- 
passionate, is  better  evidenced  thus  than  in  the  position,  half 
of  austere  solitary,  half  of  feudal  chief,  which  was  held  by  so 
great  a  number  of  monastic  superiors  in  medieval  times. 
He  is  at  ^^  ^^"®  Bxpressly  told  that  he  was  at  once  abbot 

ouce  abbot  and  priuce.  "  Are  you  fools,"  said  the  steward  of 
prince.  ^^^  ^^  ^^-^  tjomains  to  the  squires  of  a  Cambrian 
prince  who  would  have  taken  from  him  by  force  the  milk  of 
his  cows  —  '•  are  j'ou  unaware  that  our  master  is  a  man  of 
great  honor  and  dignity  —  that  he  has  a  family  of  three  hun- 
dred men,  maintained  at  his  cost,  a  hundred  priests,  a  hun- 
dred knights,  and  a  hundred  workmen,  without  counting 
women  and  children?  "^*     It  is  not,  however,  apparent  that 

vt  i'Yij.  j)ei  pravos  proprii  genitoris  actus  congemiscens,  sibi  condolens 
.  .  .  Gladusa :  .  .  .  Credamur  filio  nostro,  eritque  nobis  pater  in  coelo.  .  .  . 
Carices  Ibntanse  erant  illis  in  pulmentaria  dulces  herbe,  sed  dulcissime  que 
trahebant  ad  premia.  .  .  .  Noluit  ut  tanta  vicinia  esset  inter  illos,  ne  carnalis 
concupiscentta  a  castitate  inviolanda  perverteret  animos.  .  .  .  Nunc  totain 
regionem  meam,  pro  quo  plures  injurias  nonnullaque  dampna  sustinuisti, 
tibi  modo  vcluti  prius  coram  astantibus  cunctis,  et  meum  testamentum  hie 
andientibus  commendo." —  Vita  S.  Cadoci,  c.  24  and  50.  Vita  S.  Gmidleii, 
c.  6,  7,  8,  ap.  Rees. 

^^  "  Hoc  crit  vobis  in  signum  :  cum  ad  illius  patriam  solum  veneritis,  ani- 
inalia  liberius  in  pascuis  pascentia.  honiinesque  fretos  ac  imperterritos  inve- 
nietis  .  .  .  ab  omni  belli  precinctu  indempnes." —  VHa,  c.  20. 

^*  "Abbas  cnim  erat  et  princeps.  .  .  .  Numquid  excordes  ertis,  estiman- 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  '  G81 

he  ever  foiiglit  for  his  rights  by  force  of  arms,  as  did  more 
than  one  abbot  of  later  times.  But  at  the  head  of  fifty 
monks  chanting  psalms,  and  with  a  harp  in  his  hand,  he  went 
out  to  meet  the  exactors,  the  robbers,  the  tyrants,  and  their 
followers  ;  and  if  he  did  not  succeed  in  arresting  their  steps 
and  turning  them  from  their  evil  intentions,  he  called  down 
upon  their  heads  a  supernatural  and  exemplary  chastisement. 
Sometimes  the  aggressors  were  swallowed  up  in  a  quagmire, 
which  opened  all  at  once  under  their  feet  —  and  the  abyss 
remained  open  and  gaping,  as  a  warning  to  future  tyrants.^' 
Sometimes  they  were  struck  with  blindness,  and  wandered 
groping  through  the  district  which  they  had  come  to  ravage. 
Such  was  the  fate  of  the  prince  whose  messengers  had 
carried  off  the  daughter  of  one  of  Cadoc's  stewards,  whose 
fresh  beauty  had  gained  for  her  the  name  of  Aval-Kain,  or 
Fresh  as  an  apple.  Her  relations  mounted  their  horses,  and, 
giving  the  alarm  everywhere  by  sound  of  trumpet,  pursued 
the  ravishers  and  killed  them  all  except  one,  who  escaped  to 
tell  the  tale  to  his  master.  The  latter  returned  with  a  more 
numerous  following  to  put  the  neighborhood  to  fire  and 
sword ;  but  Cadoc  reassured  the  people,  who  surrounded 
him  with  groans  and  cries.  "  Be  at  rest,"  he  said  ;  "  courage 
and  confidence ;  the  Lord  will  bring  our  enemies  to  nothing." 
And,  in  fact,  the  invader  and  his  followers  were  soon  seen 
groping  their  way  like  the  blind.  "  Why  comest  thou  here 
in  arms  to  pillage  and  ravage  the  country  ? "  Cadoc  asked 
of  their  leader;  and  he  restored  him  his  sight  and  the  means 
of  returning  to  his  country  only  after  having  made  him 
swear  to  maintain  perpetual  peace.  "  It  is  thou  whom  I  will 
take  for  my  confessor  before  all  other,"  ^  said  the   contrite 

tes  quod  dominus  noster  honoris  sit  vir  magni  et  dignitatis  cum  utique  niag- 
nani  faniiliam  trecentorum  virorum,  scilicet  clericos,  totidemque  milites 
atque  ejusdem  numeri  operarios,  exceptis  parvulis  et  mulieribus,  possidea- 
txr."  —  Vita,  c.  15,  20. 

OS  "Praedones  infausti  .  .  .  secuti  sunt  eum  fere  L.  clerici  obviantes  fu- 
nesto  tyranno  cum  canlicis  et  liymnis  et  psalmis.  .  .  .  Terra  aperuit  os 
suum  .  .  .  et  absorbuit  tyrannum  vivum  cum  suis.  .  .  .  Fossaque  usque  in 
hodiernum  diem  cunctis  transeuntibus  liquet  .  .  .  quae  patula  semper  in 
hujus  rei  testimonium  permanens  a  nullo  oppilari  permittitur."  —  Vita.  c.  15. 

*^  "  Ad  B.  Cadoci  pretoris  domum  venientes  ejusdem  formosissimam  filiam 
rapuerunt  Abalcem  nomine,  puellam  speciosissimam.  .  .  .  Consanguinei 
puellae  caballos  suos  ascenderunt,  cornibusque  insonuerunt.  .  .  .  Oecurre- 
runt  indigenae  liostili  timore  perterriti,  cum  nimio  planctu.  .  .  .  Respondit 
eis  :  Estote  robusti  nee  formidetis.  .  .  .  Utquid  ad  meara  patriam  armata 
manu  praedandi  vastandique  causa  advenisti?  Cui  rex :  .  .  .  Te  liodie  con- 
lessorem  mihi,  si  tibi  beneplacitum  fuerit,  inter  dextrales  pr«  omnibus  eligo." 
—  Vita,  c.  19  and  65. 


682  CHRISTIAN    ORIGIN   OF 

and  comforted  prince.  On  another  occasion  the  smoking  of 
a  burning  barn  blinded  the  leader  whose  men  had  set  it  on 
fire.  He  too  was  healed  by  the  holy  abbot,  and  presented 
to  Cadoc  his  sword,  his  lance,  his  buckler,  and  war-horse 
completely  equipped  for  battle.^" 

By  such  services,  constantly  and  everywhere  renewed,  the 
power  of  the  monastic  order  was  founded,  in  Britain  as  else- 
where, in  the  souls  of  the  Christian  people.  Such  recollec- 
tions, transmitted  from  father  to  sou  at  the  domestic  hearth, 
explain  the  long  existence  of  a  fame  so  nobly  acquired.  And 
it  is  the  desire  not  only  to  reward,  but,  above  all,  to  guarantee 
and  perpetuate  an  intervention  at  once  so  powerful  and  so 
blessed,  which  justifies  the  vast  donations  lavished,  not  less 
by  wise  foresight  than  by  the  gratitude  of  nations,  upon  the 
men  who  alone  showed  themselves  always?  ready  to  combat 
the  greedy  and  sensual  instincts  of  the  kings  and  the  great, 
and  to  punish  the  odious  abuses  of  wealth  and  force. 

The  petty  robber  princes  of  North  Wales  were 
from  King  all  constraiued  to  recognize  the  right  of  asylum  and 
^meliffht  immunity  which  had  been  granted  to  the  noble 
of  asylum  abbot  and  his  monastery  by  King  Arthur,  whose 
granted  to  states  extended  to  the  west  and  south  of  Cadoc's 
domain.  For,  without  any  fear  of  anachronism,  the 
legend  takes  pains  to  connect  the  popular  saint  with  the  great 
Briton -king  who  was  once  enamoured  of  his  mother  ;  and  in 
connection  with  this,  gives  one  more  instance  of  the  brave 
and  liberal  charity  of  Cadoc,  who,  not  content  with  protecting 
his  own  oppressed  countrymen,  opened  the  gates  of  Llancar- 
van  to  exiles  and  outlaws,  and  even  received  there  a  prince 
pursued  by  the  hate  of  Arthur.  A  long  contest  followed  be- 
tween the  king  and  the  abbot,  which  was  ended  by  the  solemn 
recognition  of  a  right  of  asylum  similar  to  that  which  had 
been  granted  to  St,  David.  By  the  side  of  this  protection 
guaranteed  to  fugitives,  the  \)Ymcip\e  of  composition  —  that 
is  to  say,  of  a  ransom  for  murder,  payable  in  money  or  in  cat- 
tle to  the  relations  of  the  victim  —  makes  its  appearance  in 
the  abbot's  agreements  with  his  rapacious  and  violent  ueigh- 
bors.98 

It  was  thus  that  the  glorious  abbot  acquired  the  surname 

•^  "  Dum  prelocutus  Rein  in  tabernaculo  ludsns  in  alea  cum  suis  eunuchis 
consedisset,  fumus  ad  instar  lignei  p;>stis,  de  horreo  procedens,  recto  tramite 
se  ad  ipsius  papilionem  tetendit  lumunque  oculorura  omnium  ibidem  com- 
mancntium  obcecavit."  —  Vita,  c.  20. 

®*    Vita  S.  Cadoci,.  c.  18,  25,  Go.     La  Villemarqde,  p.  172-77. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  083 

of  Cadoc  the  Wise — a  name  which  still  appears  at  the  head 
of  the  many  poems  attributed  to  him.  For,  like  all  the  Gaels, 
he  continued  faithful  to  poetry,  and  often,  among  his  disciples, 
sang,  to  the  accompaniment  of  his  harp,  verses  in  which  he 
gave  full  utterance  to  the  religious  and  patriotic  emotions  of 
his  b'^art,  as  in  the  poem  which  has  been  preserved  under  the 
name  of  the  Hate  of  Cadoc. 

''  I  hate  the  judge  who  loves  money,  and  the  The  nate 
'•ard  who  loves  war,  and  the  chiefs  who  do  not  «f<^^<Jo°- 
^',Qard  their  .subjects,  and  the  nations  without  vigor  ;  I  hate 
houses  without  dwellers,  lands  untilled,  fields  that  bear  no 
harvest,  landless  clans,  the  agents  of  error,  the  oppressors  of 
truth  ;  1  hate  him  who  respects  not  father  and  mother,  those 
■^^ho  make  strife  among  friends,  a  country  in  anarch}',  lost 
learning,  and  uncertain  boundaries  ;  I  hate  journeys  without 
safety,  families  without  virtue,  lawsuits  without  reason,  am- 
bushes and  treasons,  falsehood  in  council,  justice  unhonored ; 
I  hate  a  man  without  a  trade,  a  laborer  without  fresdom,  a 
house  without  a  teacher,  a  false  witness  before  a  judge,  the 
miserable  exalted,  fables  in  place  of  teaching,  knowledge 
without  inspiration,  sermons  without  eloquence,  and  a  man 
without  conscience."  ^^ 

The  invasion  of  the   Saxon  idolaters,  however,   ^  ^    , , 

.  ,       „   .  .         ,  1  r.  .         '    Cadoc  takes 

witli  all  its  accompanying  horrors  and  proianatious,  refuse  m 
reached  in  succession  the  banks  of  the  Severn  and  it  anxious* 
the  Usk,  which  bounded  the  monastic  domains  of  vationof^' 
Cadoc.     He  found  himself  compelled  to  leave  Wales  thepoet 
and  make  sail  for  Armorica,  where  so  many  illustri- 
ous exiles,  who  have  since  become  the  apostles  and  legendary 
patrons  of  that  glorious  province,  had   preceded  him.     Ho 
founded  there  a  new  monastery  on  a  little  desert  island  of 
the  archipelago  of  Morbihan,  which  is  still  shown  from  the 
peninsula  of  Rhuys  ;  and  to  make  his  school  accessible  to  the 
children  of  the  district,  who  had  to  cross  to  the  isle  and  back 
again  in  a  boat,  he  threw  a  stone  bridge  four  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  long  across  this  arm  of  the  sea.     In  this  modest  re- 
treat the  Cambrian  prince  resumed  his  monastic  life,  adapting 
it  especially  to  his  ancient  scholarly  habits.     He  made  his 
scholars  learn  Virgil  by  heart ;  and  one  day,  while  walking 
with  his  friend  and  companion,  the  famous  historian  Gildas,!^'' 

^'  Translated  by  M.  de  la  Villemarqu6,  who  publishes  the  original  text,  p. 
309  of  his  Legende  Celtique. 

100  it  Britannus  egregius  scholasticus  et  ecriptor  optimus."  —  Vita  8' 
Cudoci,  p.  59. 


684  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN    OF 

with  his  Virgil  under  his  arm,  the  abbot  began  to  weep  at 
the  thought  that  the  poet  whom  ho  loved  so  much  might  be 
even  then  perhaps  in  hell.  At  the  moment  when  Glldas  rep- 
rimanded  him  severely  for  t\mt  perhaps,  protesting  that  with- 
out any  doubt  Virgil  must  be  damned,  a  sudden  gust  of  wind 
tossed  Cadoc's  book  into  the  sea.  He  was  much  moved  by 
this  accident,  and,  returning  to  his  coll,  said  to  himself",  "I 
will  not  eat  a  mouthful  of  bread  nor  drink  a  drop  of  water 
before  1  know  truly  what  fate  God  has  allotted  to  tho^e  who 
Bai  g  upon  earth  as  the  angels  sing  in  heaven."  After  this 
1)6  fell  asleep,  and  soon  after,  dreaming,  heard  a  soft  voice 
addressing  him.  "Pray  for  me,  pray  for  me,"  said  the  voice 
—  •"  never  be  weary  of  praying  ;  I  shall  yet  sing  eternally  the 
mercy  of  the  Lord." 

The  next  morning  a  fisherman  of  Belz  brought  him  a  salmon, 
and  the  saint  found  in  the  fish  the  book  which  the  wind  had 
snatched  out  of  his  hands.^o^ 

After  a  sojourn  of  several  years  in  Armorica.  Ca- 
to  Britain,  doc  left  liis  iiew  communitv  flourishino;  under  the 
fmirdiied  government  of  another  pastor,  and  to  put  in  practice 
Saxons  ^^'^^  maxim  which  he  loved  to  repeat  to  his  follow- 
ers— "  Would st  thou  find  glory? — march  to  the 
grave  !  "  —  he  returned  to  Britain,  not  to  find  again  the  an- 
cient peace  and  prosperity  of  his  beloved  retreat  of  Llancar- 
van,io^  but  to  establish  himself  in  the  very  centre  of  the 
Saxon  settlements,  and  console  the  num.erous  Christians  who 
had  survived  the  massacres  of  the  conquest,  and  lived  under 
the  yoke  of  a  foreign  and  heathen  race.  He  settled  at  Wee- 
don,  in  the  county  of  Northampton  ;  ^^^  and  it  was  there  that 
he  awaited  his  martyrdom. 

One  morning  when,  vested  with  the  ornaments  of  his  ec- 

'*"  La  Villemarqu6,  p.  203.  The  same  sentiment  is  to  be  found  liere 
which  dictated  that  sequence,  pointed  out  by  Ozanam  and  sung  at  Mantua 
upon  St.  Paul's  visit  to  the  tomb  of  Virgil : 

*'  Ad  Maronis  mausoleum  "  Quem  te,  inquit,  reddidissem, 

Ductus,  fudit  super  eum  Si  te  vivum  invenissem, 

Piae  rorem  lacrymae,  Poetarum  maxime  !  " 

*  "  Ad  proprias  sui  cari  ruris  sedes  Llandcarvan."  —  Vita,  c.  9. 
^'^^  All  historians  seem  to  agree  in  translating  thus  the  Beneventum,  in  the 
Latii.  text,  which  has  given  occasion  to  strange  speculations  upon  tlie  episco- 
pate of  Cadoc  at  Benevento,  in  Italy.  It  is  not  positively  stated  in  the  Latin 
that  Cadoc's  murderers  were  Saxons,  but  such  is  the  unvarying  tradition, 
which  is  also  affirmed  by  M.  de  la  Villemarque,  on  the  authority  of  the  Chroni- 
cle of  Quimperl^,  in  the  possession  of  Lord  Beaumont,  at  Castleton  (York- 
shire)) and  according  to  the  inscription  of  a  tablet  in  the  Chapel  of  St 
Cadoc,  near  Entel,  in  Brittany. 


THE   BRITISH  ISLES.  685 

cleslastical  rank,  lie  was  celebrating  the  divine  sacrifice,  a 
furious  band  of  Saxon  cavalry,  chasing  the  Christians  before 
tiiem,  entered  pell-mell  into  the  church,  and  crowded  towards 
the  altar.  The  saint  continued  the  sacrifice  as  calmly  as  he 
had  begun  it.  A  Saxon  chief,  urging  on  his  horse,  and 
brandishing  his  lance,  went  up  to  him  and  struck  him  to  the 
heart.  Cadoc  fell  on  his  knees ;  and  his  last  desire,  his  last 
thought,  were  still  for  his  dear  countrymen:  "  Lord,"  ho 
said,  while  dying,  "  invisible  King,  Saviour  Jesus,  grant  mo 
one  grace  —  protect  the  Christians  of  my  country  ;  ^^*  let 
their  trees  still  bear  fruit,  their  fields  give  corn ;  till  them 
with  goods  and  blessings ;  and,  above  all,  be  merciful  to 
them,  that,  after  having  honored  Thee  on  earth,  they  may 
glorify  Thee  in  heaven  !  " 

The    Britons  of   Cambria  and  of  Armorica  long   Hjspopu- 
disputed    the    glory  and    privilege    of    paying    to  t^f/t^ie^**^ 
Cadoc  those  honors  which  were  due  to  him  at  once  battle  of 
in  a  religious  and  national  point  of  view.     But  the      ^     "^  ^ 
latter  have  remained   the  most  faithful ;  and  eight  centuries 
after  his  death   the   great  Celtic  monk  and   patriot  was  still 
invoked  as  their  special  patron  by  the  Breton  knights  in  the 
famous  battle  of  the  Thirty,  where  Beaumanoir  drank  his  own 
blood.     On  their  way  to  the  field  they  went  into  a  chapel 
dedicated  to   St.   Cadoc,  and  appealed  to  him  for  aid,  and 
returned    victorious,  singing   a   Breton   ballad,  which  ends 
thus  — 

"He  is  not  the  friend  of  the  Bretons  who  does  not  cry 
for  joy  to  see  our  warriors  return  with  the  yellow  broom  in 
their  casques ; 

"  He  is  no  friend  of  the  Bretons,  nor  of  the  Breton  saints, 
who  does  not  bless  St.  Cadoc,  the  patron  of  our  warriors; 

"  He  who  does  not  shout,  and  bless,  and  worship,  and  sing, 
'  In  heaven,  as  on  earth,  Cadoc  has  no  peer.'  "  ^^o 

The    long  popularity  of    this    Cambrian    Briton   st.  wm- 
upon  the  two  shores  of  that  sea  which  separates  J^armdom 
the  Celtic  countries  is.  however,  eclipsed  by  that  of  and  her 

.1  1  i'  .    .  .    '        ,  ''       -,    ,  fountain. 

a  young  girl,  whose  history  is  unknown,  and  her 

faith  unpractised,  by  the  Welsh  population  of  the  present 

day,  but  whose   memory  has  nevertheless    been  preserved 

'"*  La  Villemarqce,  p.  215. 

'°''  The  Breton  text  of  tliis  ballad  has  been  published  by  M.  de  la  Ville- 
niarque.  The  touching  narrative  of  his  visit  to  the  ruins  of  Llancarvan,  atid 
of  tiie  devotion  wliich  still  draws  a  crowd  of  pilgrims  into  the  isle  of  Mor- 
bihan,  which  was  inhabited  by  the  saint,  will  be  found  in  his  Legend'^  Celtiqut, 

VOL  I.  58 


686  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

among  them  with  superstitious  fidelity.  This  is  Winifred 
the  young  and  beautiful  daughter  of  one  of  the  lords  of 
Wales.  Flying  from  the  brutality  of  a  certain  King  Cara 
doc/^  who  had  found  her  alone  in  her  father's  house,  she  fled 
to  the  church  where  her  parents  were  praying,  but  was 
pursued  by  the  king,  who  struck  off  her  head  on  the  very 
threshold  of  the  church.  At  the  spot  where  the  head  of  this, 
martyr  of  modesty  struck  the  soil,  there  sprang  up  an  abun- 
dant fountain,  which  is  still  frequented,  and  even  venerated^ 
by  a  population  divided  into  twenty  different  sects,  but  ani- 
mated by  one  common  hatred  for  Catholic  truth.  This  foun- 
tain has  given  its  name  to  the  town  of  Holy  well.  Its  source 
is  covered  by  a  fine  Gothic  porch  of  three  arches,  under 
which  it  forms  a  vast  basin,  where,  from  morming  to  even- 
ing, the  sick  and  infirm  of  a  region  ravaged  by  heresy  come 
to  bathe,  with  a  strange  confidence  in  the  miraculous  virtue 
of  those  icy  waters. 

The  monk  According  to  the  legend,  this  virgin  martyr  was 
Beino,  restored  to  life  by  a  holy  monk  called  Beino,  who, 

thesaxons.  like  all  the  monks  of  the  time,  had  founded  many 
About  616.  cQijyeiitg^  and  received  from  the  princes  many  con- 
tributions for  his  foundations.  Notwithstanding,  he  exercised 
a  conscientious  reserve  as  to  accepting  anything  which  the 
donor  had  not  a  full  title  to  bestow.  One  day  he  superin- 
tended, in  his  own  person,  the  building  of  a  church  upon  an 
estate  which  had  just  been  granted  to  him  by  King  Cad- 
wallon,  the  conqueror  of  the  Northumbrian  ^^'  Saxons,  or 
rather,  had  been  given  in  exchange  for  a  golden  sceptre,  of 
the  value  of  sixty  cows.  While  there,  a  woman  came  to  him, 
bringing  a  new-born  child  to  be  baptized.  The  cries  of  the 
child  were  deafening.  "  What  ails  the  child,  that  he  cries  so 
much?"  Beino  at  length  asked. 

"  He  has  a  very  good  reason,"  said  the  woman. 

"  What  is  the  reason  ?  "  asked  the  monk. 

"  This  land  which  you  have  in  your  possession,  and  on 
which  you  are  building  a  church,  belonged  to  his  father." 

At  that  moment  Beino  called  out  to  his  workmen,  "  Stop ; 
let  nothing  more  be  done  till  I  have  baptized  the  child,  and 
spoken  to  the  king."  Then  he  hastened  to  Caernarvon  to  the 
monarch ;  "  Why,"  cried  the  monk,  "  hast  thou  given  me 
these  lands  which  belong  justly  to  another  ?  The  child  in 
this  woman's  arms  is  the  heir:  let  them  be  restored  to  him." 

'"*  Evidently  the  same  name  as  that  of  the  Caractacus  of  Tacitus. 
'"^  Bede,  book  ii.  c.  20;  book  iii.  c.  1. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  687 

Nothing  can  be  more  noble  and  toucliing  than  this  evidence 
of  the  res])ect  of"  the  cenobites  for  that  sacred  right  of  prop- 
erty which  has  been  so  constantly  and  vilely,  and  with  such 
impunity,  violated  to  their  hurt  ! 

The  life  of  this  monk,  which  was  originally  written  only 
in  the  Welsh  language,^*^^  contains  other  details  not  less  curi- 
ous. It  was  he  who  planted  beside  his  father's  grave  an 
acorn,  which  grew  into  a  great  oak,  and  which,  according  to 
the  legend,  no  Englishman  could  approach  without  instant 
death,  though  the  Welsh  took  no  harm.  He,  too,  it  was  who 
was  driven  to  abandon  a  favorite  spot  on  the  banks  of  the 
Severn,  by  the  sound  of  an  English  voice  which  he  heard 
with  horror,  from  the  other  side  of  the  river,  cheering  on  the 
hounds  with  Saxon  cries.  "  Take  up  your  frocks  and  your 
shoes,"  he  said  to  his  companions,  "  and,  quick,  let  us  depart ; 
this  man's  nation  speaks  a  language  abominable  to  me  :  they 
come  to  invade  us,  and  take  away  our  goods  for  ever." 

These  famihar  anecdotes  of  the  monk  Beino,  as   xheantip- 
well  as  the  martyrdom  of  Cadoc,  the   patriot  monk   TweLi'the 
and  sage,  b}'  the  hand  of  the   Anglo-Saxons,  prove  ^nd't'ije""^ 
the  insurmountable  dislike    which  rose  like  a  wall  saxoasa 
between  the  souls  of  the  Britons  and  those  of  the   staoie'to 
Saxons,  more  than  a  century  and  a  half  after  the    s'/oi^ofthe 
arrival  of  the   heathen    invaders    in  Britain.     The   i^"*''"- 
fertile  and  generous  genius  of  the  Celtic  race,  over-mastered 
by  this  patriotic  hatred,  and  by  a  too  just  resentment  of  the 
violence  and  sacrilege  of  the  conquest,  was  thus  made  pow- 
erless to  aid  in  the   great  work   of  converting  the  Anglo- 
Saxons  to  Christianity.     Not  only  is  it  impossible  to  record 
a  single   effort,  made  by   any   British   monk    or    prelate,  to 
preach  the  faith   to  the  conquerors  ;   but  even  the  great  his- 
torian of  the  Anglo-Saxons  expressly  states,  that  the  British 
inhabitants  of  the   great  island   had  come  under  a  mutual 
engagement  never  to  reveal  the  truths  of  religion  to   those 
whose  power  and  neighborhood  the}'  were  obliged  to  endure 
—  and,  at  the  same   time,  had   taken  a  vindictive  resolution, 
even  when  they  became    Christians,  to  treat  them  as  incura- 
ble  heathens.^*^^     St.  Gregory  the  Great  makes  the  same  ac- 
cusation  against  them  in   still    more  severe  terms.     "  The 

108  Published  and  translated  by  Rees. 

109  s'u^  nunquam  genti  Saxonum  sive  Anglorum  secum  Britanniam  inco- 
lenti,  verbum  fldei  praedicando  conmiitterent.  .  .  .  Cum  usque  hodie  nioria 
sit  Brittonum,  fidem  religionemque  Angloruni  pronihilo  habere,  neque  in  ali- 
quo  ois  magis  coiumunicare  quam  cum  paganis."  —  Bede,  i.  22;  ii.  20. 


688  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

priests/'  he  said,  "  who  dwell  on  the  borders  of  the  English 
neglect  them,  and,  putting  aside  all  pastoral  solicitude,  refuse 
to  answer  to  any  desire  which  that  people  might  have  to  b« 
converted  to  the  faith  of  Christ."  i^*^ 

The  idea  of  seeking  among  the  Britons  the  instruments  of 
that  conversion  which  was  to  give  another  great  nation  to 
the  Church,  must  then  be  relinquished.  But  in  a  neighbor- 
ing island,  in  Hibernia,  there  existed.,  in  the  midst  of  a  popu- 
lation of  Celts,  like  the  Britons,  a  flourishing  and  fertile 
Church,  the  spectator,  and  not  the  victim,  of  the  Saxon  in- 
vasion. Let  us  see  if,  from  that  Island  of  Saints,  and  from 
its  brave  and  adventurous  race,  there  may  not  issue  a  more 
generous  and  expansive  impulse  than  could  be  hoped  for 
amid  the  bleeding  remnants  of  British  Christianity. 


CHAPTER   III. 

MONASTIC   IRELAND   AFTER   ST.   PATRICK. 

Ireland  escapes  the  Rome  of  the  Caesars  to  be  invaded  by  the  Rome  of  the 
Popes.  —  Tlie  British  assistants  of  St.  Patrick  carry  there  certain  usages 
different  from  those  of  Rome.  —  Division  between  Patrick  and  his  fellow- 
laborers.  —  He  would  preach  the  faith  to  all.  —  St.  Carantoc.  —  Emigra- 
tions of  the  Welsh  to  Ireland,  and  of  the  Irish  to  Wales.  —  Disciples  of 
St.  David  in  Ireland.  — Modonnoc  and  his  bees.  —  Immense  monastic  de- 
velopment of  Ireland  under  the  influence  of  the  Welsh  monks.  —  The 
peculiar  British  usages  have  nothing  to  do  with  doctrine.  —  Families  or 
clans  transformed  into  monasteries,  witli  their  chiefs  for  abbots. — The 
three  orders  of  saints. — Irish  missionaries  on  the  continent;  their  jour- 
neys and  visions.  —  St.  Brendan  the  sailor.  —  Dega,  monk-bishop  and 
sculptor.  —  Mochuda  the  shepherd  converted  by  means  of  music.  —  Con- 
tinual preponderance  of  the  monastic  element.  —  Celebrated  foundations. 
—  Monasterboyce,  Glendalough,  and  its  nine  churches.  —  Bangor,  from 
which  came  Colurabanus,  the  reformer  of  the  Gauls,  and  Clonard,  frcm 
which  issued  Columba,  the  apostle  of  Caledonia. 

Ireland  IRELAND,  happier  of  old  than  Great  Britain,  es- 

Kome'^o/'^^  caped  the  Roman  conquest.     Agricola  had  dreamt 

the  casars  of  invading  it,  and  even  of  holding  it  with  a  single 

quered  by  Icgion  ;  by  sucli  a  means  he  would,  according  to  the 

oflhl*'™^  words  of  his  son-in-law,  have   riveted  the  irons  of 

Popes.  Britain  by  depriving  her  of  the  dangerous  sight  and 

""  Epist.  vi.  58,  59. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  689 

contagious  neighborhood  of  freedom. ^^^  But  this  intention 
proved  happify  abortive.  Saved  from  imperial  proconsuls 
and  praBtors,  the  genius  of  the  Celtic  race  found  there  a  full 
development:  it  created  for  itself  a  language,  a  distinctive 
poetry,  worship,  and  cultivation,  and  a  social  hierarchy ;  in 
one  word,  a  sj'^stem  of  civilization  equal  and  even  superior  to 
that  of  most  other  heathen  nations.  In  the  middle  of  the  fifth 
century,  Rome,  Christian  and  Apostolic,  extended  its  sceptre 
over  the  land  which  the  Ccesars  had  not  been  able  to  reach, 
and  St.  Patrick  carried  to  it  the  laws  of  Christianity. ^^^  Of 
British  origin,  but  imbued,  like  his  contemporaries  Ninian 
and  Palladius,  the  apostles  of  the  southern  Picts  and  Scots, 
with  the  doctrines  and  usages  of  Ilome,i^^  the  great  apostle  of 
the  Celts  of  Ireland  left  the  shores  of  Cambria  to  convert  the 
neighboring  island.  He  was  accompanied  and  followed  by  a 
crowd  of  Welsh  or  British  monks,  who  hurried  after  him, 
driven  to  Ireland,  as  their  brothers  had  been  to  Armorica, 
either  by  terror  of  the  Saxon  invasion  or  by  the  thirst  of 
conquering  souls  to  the  truth.^^^ 

These  British  missionaries  furnished  Patrick  with  the 
thirty  first  birihops  of  the  Church  of  Ireland,^^^  who,  in  the 
exercise  of  their  office,  substituted  or  added  certain  riteg 
and   usages,    purely    British,   to   those   which   Patrick    had 

'"  "  Saepe  ex  eo  audivi,  legione  una  et  modicis  auxiliis  debellari  obtineri- 
que  Hiberniam  posse :  idque  etiam  adversus  Britanniara  profuturum,  si 
Romana  ubique  arma,  et  velut  e  conspectu  libertas  tolleretur."  —  Tacit., 
Agricola,  c.  24. 

""  See  book  vii.  page  641,  the  narrative  of  the  conversion  of  Ireland  by 
St.  Patrick. 

'"  "  Romanis  eruditis  disciplinis." —  VU.  S.  David,  ap.  Rees,  p.  41. 

""  One  of  the  Roman  assistants  of  Patrick  was  a  St.  Mochta,  whose  legend 
has  been  publislied  by  the  Bollandists,  in  their  vol.  iii.  August,  p.  736.  In 
this  legend  the  mother  of  Mochta  is  represented  as  the  servant  of  a  Britisli 
Druid.  The  foundation  of  many  monasteries  is  attributed  to  him,  and  the 
evidently  fabulous  number  of  a  hundred  bishops  and  three  hundred  priests 
as  his  disciples ;  but  the  legend  is  specially  curious  as  showing  a  kind  of  tes- 
tamentary brotherhood  between  Patrick  and  Mochta.  '•  Tunc  Mocteus  ait: 
Si  ante  te  de  hac  luce  emigravero,  familiam  meam  tibi  committo.  At  Patri- 
cius  ait:  Et  ego  tibi  meam  commendo,  si  te  ad  Dominum  prscessero;  et 
factum  est  ita." 

115  "Yiros  multos  litteratos  et  religiosos  .  .  .  e  quibus  triginta  in  episco- 
patus  officiis  principura  sublimavit."  —  Jocelin,  ap.  BoUand.,  vol.  ii.  Martii, 
p.  659.  It  is  not  necessary  to  suppose  that  these  bishops  had  actual  dioceses, 
and  a  jurisdiction  perfectly  established,  as  at  a  later  period.  We  shall  have 
occasion  often  to  repeat  that  the  bishops  of  the  Celtic  churches  had  scarcely 
any  other  functions  than  those  of  ordination  and  transmission  of  the  priestly 
character.  The  power  of  the  chiefs  of  great  monastic  establishments,  who 
besides  often  became  bishops,  was  of  a  very  ditFerent  description.  Tlie  con- 
stitution of  dioceses  and  parishes,  in  Ireland  as  in  Scotland,  does  not  go 
further  back  than  to  the  twelfth  century. 

58* 


690  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

brought  from  Rome.  Ireland  was  converted,  but  she  wag 
converted  according  to  the  model  of  Britain  ^^^  —  profoundly 
and  unchangeably  Catholic  in  doctrine,  but  separated  from 
Rome  by  various  points  of  discipline  and  liturgy,  without  any 
real  importance,  which,  from  the  narratives  that  remain  to  us 
of  the  life  of  St.  Patrick,  it  would  be  impossible  to  define. 
Differences  Even  iu  the  lifetime  of  Patrick,  might  there  not  have 
between  St.  been  differences  between  him  and  his  British  fel- 
hi's  Hriti'sh  low-laborers  on  these  points  ?  This  seems  probable, 
aasistants.  f^ofjj  certain  particulars  in  his  history  and  writings, 
—  as,  for  example,  that  passage  in  his  Confession  where  he 
sa3's  that  he  had  brought  the  Gospel  to  Ireland  in  spite  of  his 
seniors  —  that  is  to  say,  according  to  Tiilemont,  in  spite  of 
the  British  priests.  In  the  obscure  and  perhaps  altered 
texts  of  the  two  Canons  of  Council  which  are  attributed  to 
him,  certain  acts  which  show  a  violent  hostilit}'  to  the  British 
clergy  and  monks  will  be  remarked  with  surprise. i^"  The 
Cambrian  legend,  on  the  other  hand,  expressly  points  out, 
among  the  companions  of  Patrick,  a  Welsh  monk,  Carantoc  or 
Carranog,  whom  it  describes  as  "  a  strong  knight  under  the 
sun,"  and  a  "  herald  of  the  celestial  kingdom  ;  "  but  takes 
care  to  add  that,  in  consequence  of  the  multitude  of  clerks 
who  accompanied  them,  the  two  agreed  to  separate,  and 
turned  one  to  the  right  and  the  other  to  the  left.^^^  A  still 
more  curious  passage  of  the  Amhra,  or  panegyric  in  Irish 
verse,  addressed  to  St.  Patrick  by  a  monastic  bard,  may 
throw  a  ray  of  light  upon  the  sentiments  which  separated  that 
trulj'  apostolic  leader  from  the  Welsh  monks,  who  were  too 
often  distinguished  by  their  exclusive  and  jealous  spirit. 
Always  faithful  to  the  prevailing  sentiment  of  the  Roman 
Church,  which  regarded  the  conversion  of  a  sinner  as  a 
greater  miracle  than  resurrection  from  the  dead,i^^  the  saint 
is  applauded  by  his  panegyrist  for  having  taught  the  Gospel 

"^  This  has  been  learnedly  proved  and  put  beyond  doubt  by  M.  Varin,  in 
the  papers  already  quoted. 

"^  '•  Clericus  qui  de  Britannia  ad  nos  venit  sine  epistola  (episcopi?)  et  si 
habitet  in  plebe,  non  licitum  niinistrare."  —  Can.  33  du  1*^  synode.  "Cum 
monachis  non  est  docendum,  quorum  malum  est  inauditum  qui  unitatem  vero 
plebis  non  incongrue  suscepimus."  —  Can.  20  du  2^  synode.  Concilia,  ed. 
CoLETTi,  vol.  iv.  pp.  756,  760. 

"^  "  Sub  praesentia  solis,  fortis  miles,  mirabilis,  spiritalis,  summus  abbas, 
longanimus,  praeceptor  fidelitatis  .  .  .  praeco  regni  ccelestis." —  Vita  S. 
Carant.,  ap.  Kees,  p.  98.     Compare  the  legend  cited  by  M.  Varin,  op.  cit. 

119  u  Majus  est  miraculum  verbo  peccatorem  convertere  quam  carne  mor* 
tuum  resuscitare."  —  Gbegobics,  De  Vita  et  Mirac.  Patrum,  lib.  iv.  c.  86. 


THE   BRITISH    ISLES.  691 

always  without  distinction,  without  difference  of  caste,  even 
to  strangers,  barbarians,  and  Picts.^-*^ 

Whatever  these  discussions  were,  liowever,  they  did  no 
hurt  either  to  the  Catholic  faith  —  for  Pehigianism,  the  lead- 
ing heresy  in  Britain,  never  had  any  ground  to  stand  on  in 
Ireland  121  —  ^or  to  the  influence  of  the  great  Roman  mis- 
Bionary,  who  has  continued  the  first  and  most  popular  saint 
in  Catholic  Ireland.  The  gratitude  of  tlie  kings  and  people 
whom  he  had  converted  showed  itself  in  such  lavish  gener- 
osity, that,  according  to  the  Irish  saying,  had  he  accepted  all 
that  was  offered  him,  he  would  not  have  left  for  the  saints 
that  came  after  as  much  as  would  have  fed  two  horfses.^^^ 
Nothing  is  more  certainly  proved  than  the  subordination  of 
the  new-born  Irish  Church  to  the  Roman  See  —  a  subordina- 
tion whicn  was  decided  and  regulated  by  Patrick. ^--^  But  it 
is  not  less  certain  that  Welsh  and  Breton  monks  were  the 
fellow-workers,  and,  above  all,  the  successors  of  Patrick  in 
Ireland  ;  that  they  completed  his  work,  and  that  the  Church 
of  the  island  was  organized  and  developed  under  their 
influence,  thanks  to  the  continual  emigration  which  took 
place  from  Wales  to  Ireland  and  from  Ireland  to  Wales,  proofs 
which  are  to  be  found  on  every  page  of  the  annals  of  those 
times. 

It  is  to  the  influence  of  St.  David,  the  great  connection 
monk-bishop  of  Wales,  that  the  history  of  the  two  and  hu"'"'^ 
Churches  attributes  the  principal  share  in  the  close  ^^jft'jj'\'re. 
union  of  Irish  and  Welsh  monasticism.  We  have  land. 
already  said  that  the  episcopal  monastery  which  has  re- 
tained his  name  is  situated  on  a  promontory  which  projects 
from  the  coast  of  Great  Britain  as  if  to  throw  itself  towards 

'^''  La  Villemaequ^,  Poesie  des  Cloitres  Ccltiques. 

'*'  This  is  clearly  shown  by  Lvnigan,  vol.  ii.  p.  410-15  (^Ecclesiastical 
History  of  Ireland),  notwithstanding  the  affirmation  to  the  contrary  of  the 
venerable  Bede,  L  ii.  c.  19. 

'^^  Lynch,  Cambrensis  Eversus,  vol.  ii.  p.  11,  ed.  Kelly. 

•*'  "  Item  quEecumque  caussa  valde  difficilis  exorta  fuerit  atque  ignota 
cunctis  Scotoruin  gentium  judicibus,  ad  cathedram  archiepiscopi  Hibernien- 
eium,  id  est  Patricii  atque  hujus  antistitis  examinationem  recte  referenda. 

"Si  vero  in  ilia  cum  suis  sapientibus  facile  sanari  non  poterit  talis  caussa 
prsedicta  negotiationis,  ad  sedem  apostolicam  deorevimus  esse  mittendam,  id 
est  ad  Petri  apostoli  cathedram,  auctoritatem  Romse  urbis  habentem. 

"  Hi  sunt  qui  de  hoc  decreverunt,  id  est  Auxilius,  Patriciiis,  Secundinus, 
Benignus.  Post  vero  exitum  Patricii  sancti,  alumpni  sui  valde  ejusdem 
libros  conscripserur.t." — Canon  drawn  from  MS.  in  Armagh,  which  is  be- 
lieved to  be  M'ritten  by  Patrick's  own  hand,  and  is  published  by  O'Curry 
{^Lectures  on  the  Manuscript  Materials  of  Irish  History,  p.  611).  All  the 
discoveries  of  contemporary  archaeology  and  theology  confirm  the  ii.iion  of 
the  primitive  Church  of  Ireland  with  the  Church  of  Rome. 


692  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

Ireland.  The  legend  narrates  that  Patrick,  Avhile  standing 
on  this  promontory  at  a  despondent  moment,  overwhelmed 
Dy  vexation  and  discouragement,  was  consoled  by  a  vision  m 
which  there  was  revealed  to  him,  at  one  glance,  the  whole 
extent  of  the  great  island  which  God  had  reserved  for  him  to 
convert  and  save.^-^  David,  born  of  an  Irish  mother,^^^  died 
The  monk  ^^  ^^^®  arms  of  One  of  his  Irish  disciples.  Another 
Modonnoc  of  his  disciples  was  long  celebrated  for  the  service 
berTinto^  he  rendered  to  Ireland  by  introducing  there  the  cul- 
ifdaud.  j.jj^g  of  bees.  For  there,  as  everywhere,  the  monas- 
lic  missionaries  brought  with  them  not  only  faith,  truth,  and 
virtue,  but,  at  the  same  time,  the  inferior  but  essential  bene- 
fits of  cultivation,  labor,  and  the  arts. 

Modonnoc,  the  monk  in  question,  was  a  rough  laborer,  so 
rugged  and  intent  upon  keeping  all  at  work,  that  he  escaped 
narrowly  on  one  occasion  from  having  his  head  broken  by  the 
axe  of  a  comrade  whom  he  had  reproached  for  his  idleness 
when  the  two  were  working  together  to  soften  the  slope  of  a 
road  excavated  near  St.  David's  monastery. ^^6  Towards  the 
end  of  his  days,  after  a  long  life  of  obedience  and  humility, 
he  embarked  for  Ireland.  All  the  bees  of  St.  David's  followed 
him.  It  was  vain  that  he  turned  back  his  boat,  on  the  prow 
of  which  they  had  settled,  to  the  shore,  and  denounced  the 
fugitives  to  his  superior.  Three  times  in  succession  he  at- 
tempted to  free  himself  from  his  strange  companions,  and  had 
at  last  to  resign  himself  to  the  necessity  of  carrying  them 
with  him  into  Ireland,  where  up  to  this  time  they  were  un- 
known. By  this  graceful  little  story  the  legend  enshrines  in 
Christian  gratitude  the  recollection  of  the  laborious  disciple 
who  was  the  first  to  introduce  the  culture  of  bees  into  Ire- 
land, where  it  spread  rapidly,  and  became  a  source  of  wealth 
to  the  country.  It  is  pleasant  to  find,  in  the  sam.e  legend, 
that  the  aged  emigrant  took  special  pains,  in  gathering  his 
honey,  to  procure  a  more  delicate  food  than  their  Drdinary 
coarse  fare,  for  the  poor.^^T 

124  u  j^jf  ]q(.q  jjj  quQ  stabat,  qui  modo  sedes  Patricii  dicitur,  totam  pro- 
spexit  insulam." —  Vita  S.  David,  p.  119. 

'*•'  BoLLAND.,  vol.  i.  Maitii,  p.  39. 

126  n  Cum  fratribus  viam  prope  civitatis  confinia  in  proclivo  cavabat,  quo 
ad  deferenda  necessitatum  onera  viantibus  facilior  fieret  accessus.  Quid  tu 
tam  desidiose  et  segniter  laboras?  At  ille  .  .  .  ferrum  qnod  manu  tenebat, 
id  est  bipennera  in  altum  el^vans,  in  cervice  eum  ferire  conatus  est."  —  Ap. 
Rees,  p.  133.  In  this  legend  the  monastery  is  always  entitled  civitas,  which 
thoroughly  answers  to  the  idea  of  the  social  and  industrial  community  of 
which,  at  that  period,  a  cenobitical  establishment  was  formed. 

**■  "  Cuncta  apum  multitudo  eum  seeuta  est,  secumque  in  navi  ubi  inse- 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  693 

Thanks  to  this  incessant  emif:;ration,  Ireland,  from   Monastic 
the  fifth  to  the  eighth  century,  became  one  of  the  f^'^e'jlt'of' 
principal  centres  of  Christianity  in  the  world  ;  and   [,';,';{;;;.''},,g 
not  only  of  Christian  holiness  and  virtue,  but  also  of  ir.tiiuMice 
knowledge,  literature,  and  that  intellectual  civiliza-  Cambrian 
tion  with  which  the  new  faith  was  about  to  endow   monks. 
Europe,  then  delivered  from  heathenism  and  from  the  Roman 
empire.     This  golden  age   presented  two   remarkable   phe- 
nomena: the  temporary  predominance  for  one  or  two  cen- 
turies of  certain  rites  and  customs  proper  to  the  British 
Church,  and  the  extraordinary  development  of  monastic  in- 
stitutions.    As  to  the   British  peculiarities,  in  pro-  ^,,^^  j^^j^j^;^ 
portion  as  they  become    apparent    under  Patrick's   pecuiiari- 
successors,  it   becomes  clear  that  they  differ  from    •.'ft^.i-Vere*' 
Roman  usages  only  upon  a  few  points  of  no  real  im-  ^"j^^^j^^^ 
portance,  although    at   that  moment   they  seemed 
weighty  enough.     They  vary  from  Catholic  rule  only  in  re- 
spect to  the  nght  day  for  the  feast  of  Easter,  the   form  and 
size  of  the  monastic  tonsure,  and  the  ceremonies  of  baptism  ^^8 
—  questions  which  in  no  way  involve  any  point  of  doctrine. 
Nor  do  they  impugn  the  authority  of  the  Holy  See  in  respect 
to  matters  of  faith  ;  and  it  is  impossible  to  support,  by  facts 
or  authentic  documents,  those  doubts  as  to  the  orthodoxy  of 
the  Irish,  which  have  been  borrowed  from  the  unsatislactory 
and   partial  learning  of  English  writers  of  the  past  century 
by  various  authors  of  our  own  day —  such  as  Rettberg  and 
Augustin  Thierry  :    that  orthodoxy   was    then,  what   it   has 
always  continued,  irreproachable. 

The  Catholic  — the  Roman  —  faith  reigned  thus  without 
limitation  in  the  great  and  numberless  communities  which  con- 
stituted the  chief  strength  of  the  Church  founded  by  Patrick 
and  his  British  fellow-laborers.  This  Church  had  been  at 
its  very  origin  clothed  with  an  almost  exclusively  monastic 
character.     Episcopal  succession  remained  long  unknown  or 

derat  colloeavit  in  prora  navis.  .  ,  .  Alveariis  ad  nutriendos  exaniiniim  fetus 
operam  dedit  quo  indigentibus  aliqua  suavioris  cibi  oblectanienta  procuraret. 
.  .  .  Hibernia  autera  in  qua  nunquam  usque  ad  illud  tempus  apes  vivtre 
poterant,  nimia  mellis  fertilitate  dotatur."  —  Ap.  Rees,  p.  134.  Colgan, 
however  (Act.  SS.  HibernicB,  13th  February),  affirms  that  they  already  ex- 
isted in  Ireland. 

'*8  A  learned  Englishman  of  our  own  day.  Dr.  Todd,  in  his  .Monograph 
on  St.  Patrick,  published  in  1863,  acknowledges  that  the  Irish  Church  of  the 
sixth  century  differed  in  nothing  as  to  doctrine  from  the  rest  of  the  Catholic 
Church ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  maintains  her  independence  of  the  Holy 
See.  See  upon  this  question  an  excellent  article  in  the  Home  and  Foreig't 
Review,  for  January  1864. 


694  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

confused  ;  the  authority  of  bishops,  deprived  of  all  loca^ 
jurisdiction,  was  subordinated  to  that  of  the  abbots,  ever\ 
when  the  latter  did  not  share  the  episcopal  rank.  Patrick 
had  converted  a  crowd  of  petty  princes,  chiefs  of  tribes  or 
clans  ;  indeed,  all  the  primitive  saints  of  Ireland  were  con- 
nected with  reigning  families,  and  almost  all  the  converted 
chiefs  embraced  monastic  life.  .Their  families,  their  clans- 
men, their  dependants,  followed  their  example.  A  prince, 
in  becoming  a  monk,  naturally  became  also  an  abbot,  and  ia 
his  monastic  life  continued,  as  he  had  been  in  his  worldly 
existence,  the  chief  of  his  race  and  of  his  clan. 

The  first  great  monasteries  of  Ireland  were  then  nothing 
else,  to  speak  simply,  than  clans  reorganized  under  a  re- 
ligious form.  From  this  cause  resulted  the  extraordinary 
number  of  their  inhabitants,  who  were  counted  b}^  hundreds 
and  thousands  •,^-^  from  this  also  came  their  influence  and 
productiveness,  which  were  still  more  wonderful.  In  these 
vast  monastic  cities,  that  fidelity  to  the  Church  which  Ire- 
land has  maintained  with  heroic  constancy  for  fourteen 
centuries,  in  face  of  all  the  excesses,  as  well  as  all  the  re- 
finements, of  persecution,  took  permanent  root.  There  also 
were  tramed  an  entire  population  of  philosophers,  of  writers, 
of  architects,  of  carvers,  of  painters,  of  caligraphers,  of 
musicians,  poets,  and  historians ;  but,  above  all,  of  mis- 
sionaries and  preachers,  destined  to  spread  the  light  of  the 
Gospel  and  of  Christian  education,  not  only  in  all  the  Celtic 
countries,  of  which  Ireland  was  always  the  nursing  mother, 
but  throughout  Europe,  among  all  the  Teutonic  races  — 
among  the  Franks  and  Burgundians,  who  were  already 
masters  of  Gaul,  as  well  as  amid  the  dwellers  by  the  Rhine 
and  Danube,  and  up  to  the  frontiers  of  Italy.  Thus  sprang 
up  also  those  ai'mies  of  saints,  who  were  more  numerous, 
more  national,  more  popular,  and,  it  must  be  added,  more 
extraordinary,  in  Ireland,  than  in  any  other  Christian  land. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  unanimous  testimony  of  Christen- 
dom conferred  upon  Ireland  at  this  period  the  name  of  Isle 
of  Saints ;^^^  but  it  is  much  less  known  that  these  saints 
were  all,  or  almost  all,  attached  to  monastic  institutions, 
which     retained    a    discipline    and    regularity,    steady    but 

'^^  Tlie  number  of  three  thousand  monks  is  constantly  met  with  in  the 
records  of  tlie  great  monasteries. 

130  a  iiibernia,  insuhi  sanctorum,  Sanctis  et  mirabilibus  perplurimis  subli- 
miter  plena  liabetur." —  Mauianus  ycoxus,  Chron.  ad.  ann.  ()9()  (a.  t>.  589), 
•dp.  l^ERTZ,  Mouunienta,  vol.  vii.  j).  554. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  605 

strangely  allied  to  the  violence  and  eccentricity  of  the 
national  character.  The  ancient  relics  of  Irish  tradition 
8how  them  to  us  classified,  and  as  if  ranged  in  line  of  l)attle, 
in  three  orders  or  battalions,  by  the  poetic  and  warlike  itii' 
agination  of  the  Celt:  the  first,  commanded  by  St. 
Patrick,  was  composed  exclusively  of  bishops —  orders  of 
Roman,  Briton,  Frankisb,  or  Scotic  121  —  and  shone  ^"'"'*- 
like  the  sun;  the  second,  commanded  by  St.  Columba,  and 
composed  of  priests,  shone  like  the  moon;  and  the  third, 
under  tlie  orders  of  Colman  and  Aidan,  was  composed  at  once 
of  bishops,  priests,  and  hermits,  and  shone  like  the  stai's.i-'^^ 
Let  us  point  out,  in  passing,  in  this  beatific  crowd  tiie 
famous  travellers  and  the  sailor-raonks.  Such  was  Brendan, 
whose  fantastic  pilgrimages  into  the  great  ocean,  in  search 
of  the  earthly  Paradise,  and  of  souls  to  convert,  and  unknown 
lands  to  discover,  have  been  preserved  under  the  form  of 
visions,  which  are  always  wonderfully  penetrated  by  the 
spirit  of  God  and  of  theological  truth.^^^  In  thus  putting 
imagination,  as  well  as  the  spirit  of  adventure,  at  the  service 
of  the  faith  and  ideal  Christian  virtue,  these  visions  are 
worthy  of  being  reckoned  among  the  poetic  sources  of  the 
Divina  CommtdiaP^  Th.e}'  exercised  a  lively  influence  upon 
the  Christian  imagination  during  all  the  middle  ages,  and 
even  up  to  the  time  of  Christopher  Columbus  himself,  to 
whom  the  salt-water  epic  of  St.  Brendan  seems  to  have 
pointed  out  the  way  to  America. ^^^ 

By  the  side  of  this  monkish  traveller,  let  us  in-  r)cj,-a, 
stance  as  a  type  of  the  religious  who  remained  in   op°'an'd^art- 
Ireland  to  fertilize  it  by  their  labors,  a  monk-bishop  ^'^^-     ■^^*^*'' 
called  Dega  or  Dagan,  who  passed  his  nights  in  transcribing 
manuscripts,  and   his  days   in   reading,  and   carving  in  iron 

'■"  The  word  Scotic,  though  an  awkward  one,  is  made  use  of  here  and 
elsewliere  to  distinguish  the  Scots  of  Ireland  from  the  more  modern  Scottish 
race  which  has  since  identified  the  name  witli  Scothmd  alone. —  Transloi- 
tor's  note. 

'^*  UssHEK,  Antiquities,  pp.  473,  490,  913.  Tlie  very  learned  Anglican 
primate  was  aided  in  his  researches  into  the  history  and  archasology  of  Ire- 
land by  David  Eooth,  the  Catholic  bishop  of  Ossory,  to  whom  he  publicly 
avows  liis  gratitude  in  various  parts  of  his  works.  —  See  also  Lanigan,  vol. 
i.  p.  5;  vol.  ii.  p.  13. 

'^^  La  Villemarque,  op.  cit.  ' 

"*  OzANAM,  (Euvres,  vol.  v.  p.  373,  * 

*'*  "  I  am  convinced,"  he  said,  "  that  the  terrestrial  paradise  is  in  the  island 
of  St.  Brendan,  which  nobody  can  reach  except  by  tlie  will  of  God."  — 
Quoted  by  M.  Ferdinand  Denis,  Le  Monde  Enchanie,  p.  130.  There  were 
two  saints  of  the  name  of  Brendan :  the  best  known,  founder  of  the  Mon- 
astery of  Clonfert,  and  celebrated  lor  his  voyages,  died  in  577. 


696  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

and  copper.  He  was  so  laborious  that  the  construction  of 
three  hundred  bells  and  three  hundred  crosiers  of  bishops  or 
abbots,  is  attributed  to  him,  and  the  transcription  of  three 
hundred  copies  of  the  Gospels.  "  I  thank  my  God,"  he  said, 
while  preaching-  to  the  monks  of  Bangor,  "  that  He  has  made 
me  recognize  among  you  the  three  orders  of  monks  which 
f  have  already  seen  elsewhere  —  those  who  are  angels  for 
purity,  those  who  are  apostles  for  activity,  and  those  who 
would  be  martyrs,  were  it  needed,  by  their  readiness  to  shed 
their  blood  for  Christ.''  ^^ 

At  that  period,  as  ever  since,  the  love  and  practice  of 
music  was  a  national  passion  with  the  Irish.  The  mission- 
aries and  the  monks,  their  successors,  were  also  inspired  by 
this  passion,  and  knew  how  to  use  it  for  the  government  and 
consolation  of  souls.  Another  pleasant  legend  de- 
st.^Moch-  picts  to  us  its  influence,  in  the  form  of  ecclesiastical 
uda,  580.  chants,  upon  an  Irish  youth.  Mochuda,  the  son  of  a 
great  lord  of  Kerry,  kept,  like  David,  his  father's  flocks  in 
the  great  forests  which  then  covered  a  district  now  almost 
altogether  without  wood.  He  attracted,  by  his  piety  and 
grace,  the  regard  of  the  duke  or  prince  of  the  province,  who 
called  him  often  in  the  evening  to  his  presence  to  converse 
with  him,  while  his  wife,  who  was  the  daughter  of  the  King 
of  Munster,  showed  the  same  atlection  for  the  young  shep- 
herd. In  the  wood  where  his  swine. fed,  there  passed  one 
day  a  bishop  witli  his  suite,  chanting  psalms  in  alternate 
strophes  as  they  continued  their  course.  The  young  Mo- 
chuda was  so  rapt  by  this  psahnody  that  he  abandoned  his 
flock,  and  followed  the  choir  of  singers  to  the  gates  of  the 
monastery  where  they  were  to  pass  the  night.  He  did  not 
venture  to  enter  with  them,  but  remained  outside,  close  to 
the  place  where  they  lay,  and  wliere  he  could  hear  them 
continue  their  song  till  the  hour  of  repose,  the  bishop  chant- 
ing longest  of  all  after  the  others  were  asleep.  The  shep- 
herd thus  passed  the  entire  night.  The  chief  who  loved 
him  sought  him  everywhere,  and  when  at  last  the  young 
man  was  brought  to  him,  asked  why  he  had  not  come,  as 
usual,  on  the  previous   evening.     "  My  lord,"  said  the  shep- 

136  n  jjjg  Dagjgns  fuit  fober  tarn  in  ferro  quam  in  asre,  et  scriba  insignis 
.  .  .  Gratias  ago  Deo  riieo  quod  S.  Moctei  postremo  similes  conventus  voa 
video,  tria  quippe  monacliorum  genera  sibi  succedentia  liabuit:  priniuin  pu- 
ritate  angelicuni,  secundum  actibus  apostolicum,  tertium,  ut  sancti  martyrcs, 
sanguinem  pro  Christo  effundere  promplum."  —  Bolland.,  vol.  iii.  Augusti, 
pp.  657,  658. 


THE   BRITISH   ISLES.  697 

herd,  '•  1  did  nut  come  because  I  was  ravished  by  tlie  divine 
song  which  I  have  heard  sung  by  the  holy  clergy  ;  please 
Heaven,  lord  duke,  that  I  was  but  with  them,  that  I  might 
learn  to  sing  as  they  do."  The  chief  in  vain  admitted  iiim 
to  his  table,  ofiered  him  his  sword,  his  buckler,  his  lance,  all 
the  tokens  of  a  stirring  and  prosperous  life.  •'  I  want  none 
of  your  gilts,"  the  shepherd  always  replied  ;  "  I  want  but 
one  thing  —  to  learn  the  chant  which  I  have  heard  sung  by 
the  saints  of  God."  In  the  end  he  prevailed,  and  was  s(snl 
to  the  bishop  to  be  made  a  monk.  The  legend  adds  that 
thirty  beautiful  young  girls  loved  him  openly  ;  for  he  was 
handsome  and  agreeable  :  but  the  servant  of  God  having 
prayed  that  their  love  should  become  spiritual  love,  they 
were  all,  like  liimself,  converted,  and  consecrated  themselves 
to  God  in  isolated  cells,  which  remained  under  his  authority, 
when  he  had  in  his  turn  become  a  bishop,  and  founder  of  the 
great  monastic  city  of  Lismore.^"^ 

This  preponderance  of  the  monastic  element  in  the  Irish 
Church  —  which  was  due  to  the  fact  that  the  first  apostles  of 
the  isle  were  monks,  and  was  at  the  same  time  thoroughly 
justified  by  the  adventurous  zeal  of  their  successors  —  main- 
tained itself  not  only  during  all  the  flourishing  period  of  the 
Church's  liistory,  but  even  as  long  as  the  nation  continued 
independent.  Even  the  Anglo-Norman  conquerors  of  the 
twelfth  centur}',  though  they  too  came  from  a  country  where 
most  of  the  bishops  had  been  monks,  and  where  almost  all 
the  sees  had  begun  by  being  monasteries,  were  struck  by 
this  distinguished  cliaracteristic  of  Irish  Christianity.^^^ 

'^'  "  Ait  dux :  Veni  hue  quotidie  cum  aliis  subulois.  .  .  .  Aliquando  sues 
pascebat  in  silvis,  aliquando  manebat  in  castellis  cum  duce.  .  .  .  Canebat 
epijicopus  cum  comitibus  suis  psalmos  invicem  per  viara.  .  .  .  Ideo  ad  te 
nun  veni,  doniine  mi,  quia  delectavit  me  divinum  carmen,  quod  audivi  a 
cunctis  choris,  et  nusquam  audivi  simile  liuic  carmini.  .  .  .  Nolo  aliquid  de 
donis  tuis  carmilibus,  sed  volo  vere  ut  carmen  quod  a  Sanctis  Dei  audivi  dis- 
cam.  .  .  .  S.  Moclmda  speciosus  erat,  et  in  juventute  sua  triginta  juvenculae 
virgines  amaverunt  eum  magno  amore  carnaii,  hoc  non  celantes.  Famulus 
autem  Dei  rogavit  pro  eis,  ut  carnalera  amorem  mutarent  in  spiritualem; 
quod  ila  est  factum;  illse  enim  virgines  seipsas  cum  suis  cellis  Deo  et  S.  Mo- 
chudas  obtulerunt."  —  Acta  SS.  Bolland.,  vol.  iii.  Mail,  p.  379.  Mochu'la 
18  better  known  under  the  name  of  Cartagh,  which  was  that  of  the  bishop 
'"ho.-^e  disciple  he  became,  and  whose  name  he  adopted  out  of  affection  fot 
his  spiritual  fatlier.     He  died  in  637. 

'^*  "Nam  monachi  erant  maximequi  ad  praedicandum  venerant." —  Bedk, 
1.  iii  c.  3.  "  Cum  tere  omnes  Hibernise  praslati  de  monasteriis  in  cleruni 
electi  sunt,  quse  monachi  sunt,  soUieile  coniplent  omnia,  quae  vero  clerici  vel 
prajlati,  fere  prastermittunt  universa."  —  Giraldus  Cambkensis,  Topogtif 
phia  JJihe'^'"'es.  1j>t.   iii.  c.  29. 

VOL.  L  59 


698  CHRISTIAN   ORIGIN   OF 

Celebrated         Of  all  tliGSG  Celebrated  comiijunities  of  the  sixth 
niou.ister-     century,  which  were  the  most   numerous  ever  seen 

les  of  the        •       rn    *•    j.        i  i  •  i 

sixtiiceii-  in  Lnnstendom,  tliere  remain  only  vague  associa- 
laiid/"  ^"^^  tions  connected  with  certain  sites,  whose  names  be- 
tray their  monastic  origin  —  or  a  few  ruins  visited  by 
unfrequent  travellers.  Let  us  instance,  for  example,  Monas- 
terevan,  founded  in  504,  upon  the  banks  of  the  Barrow ; 
Monasterboyce/39  a  great  lay  and  ecclesiastical  school  in  the 
valley  of  the  Boyne  ;  Innisfallen,  in  the  picturesque  Lake  of 
Killarney  ;  and,  above  all,  Glendalough,  in  the  valley  of  the 
two  lakes,  with  its  nine  ruined  churches,  its  round  tower, 
and  its  vast  cemetery,  a  sort  of  pontifical  and  monastic  necrop- 
olis^ founded  in  the  midst  of  a  wild  and  desolate  landscape, 
by  St.  Kevin,  one  of  the  tirst  successors  of  Patrick,  and  one 
of  those  who,  to  quote  the  Irish  hagiographers,  counted  by 
millions  the  souls  whom  they  led  to  heaven. ^'^'^  Amon.g  these 
sanctuaries  there  are  two  which  must  be  pointed  out  to  the 
attention  of  the  reader,  less  because  of  their  population  and 
celebrity,  than  because  they  have  produced  the  two  most 
remarkable  Celtic  monks  of  whom  we  have  to  speak, 
ciouard  Thesc    are  Clonard  and   Bangor,  both  of  which 

founded'by  reckoned  three  thousand  monks.  The  one  was 
founded  by  St.  Finnian,  who  was  also  venerated  as 
the  celestial  guide  of  innumerable  souls.^*^  He  was  born  in 
L'eland,  but  educated  by  David  and  other  monks  in  Britain, 
where  he  spent  thirty  years.  He  then  returned  to  his  native 
country  to  create  the  great  monastic  school  of  Clonard,  from 
which,  says  the  historian, ^^^  saints  came  out  in  as  great  num- 
ber as  Greeks  of  old  from  the  sides  of  the  horse  of  Troy. 

'^*  Founded  by  St.  Buillie,  wlio  died  in  621.  M.  Henri  Martin,  in  his 
interesting  pamplilet  entitled  Antiquitcs  Irlandaises,  18()3,  lias  given  an 
animated  picture  of  Monasterboyce  and  of  that  "  burying-ground  in  wliich 
there  rises  a  round  tower  a  hundred  and  ten  feet  high,  of  tlie  most  graceful 
poise,  and  the  boldest  and  finest  form.  Around  it  are  the  ruins  of  two 
cliurches  and  two  magnificent  stone  crosses;  the  highest  of  tliese  crosses  is 
twent^'-seven  feet  in  height,  covered  with  Gaelic  ornaments  and  inscriptions. 
Tliese  latter  alone  repay  the  journey,  for  there  exists  nothing  like  tliem  on 
tlie  Continent.  As  a  specimen  of  Gaelic  Ciiristian  art,  there  is  nothing  com- 
parable to  Monasterboyce."  M.  Martin  also  remarks,  at  a  distance  of  three 
miles,  the  graceful  ruins  of  Mellifont :  "In  the  depths  of  a  valley,  by  the 
banks  of  a  brook,  with  a  church  of  the  ogival  period,  .  .  .  and,  at  some 
steps  from  tlie  church,  a  rotonda  (or  chapter-house)  with  Roman  arcades  of 
the  purest  style."  Mellifont  was  a  Cistercian  abbey,  founded  by  a  commu- 
nity from  Clairvaux,  whom  St  Bernard  sent  to  his  friend  St.  Malachi  ir< 
1135. 

140  "Multarum  niiJlium  animaruni  duces."  " 

'■*'  "  Innumeras  ad  patriam  animas  coelestem  ducens." 
*'^  UssHEK,  Antiquities,  p.  622. 


THE   BRITISH    ISLES.  699 

Tlie  other,  the  third  Bangor  —  glorious  rival  of  nim-^or, 
the  two  monasteries  of  the  same  name  in  Cambria  —  sT/coinUn, 
was  founded  upon  the  shores  of  the  Irish  sea  facing  ss'j. 
Britain/*^  ^y  Comgall,  who  was  descended  from  a  reigning 
family  of  Irish  Picts,  but  who  had,  like  Patrick,  Finnian,  and 
so  many  others,  lived  in  Britain.  He  gave  a  rule,  written  in 
Irish  verse,  to  this  community,  the  fame  of  which  was  to 
eclipse  that  of  all  other  Irish  monasteries  in  the  estimation 
of  Europe,  and  whose  three  thousand  friars,  divided  into 
seven  alternate  choirs,  each  composed  of  three  hundred 
singers,  chanted  the  praises  of  God  day  and  night,  to  call 
down  His  grace  upon  their  Church  and  their  country. 

It  was  Bangor  that  produced,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  the  great  St.  Columbanus,  whose  glorious  life   nus,  re- 
was  passed  far  from  Ireland,  who  sowed  the  seed  of  tho"Gau°8 
so  many  ffreat  and  holy  deeds  between  the  Vosffes  prof'uceii ' 
and  the  Alps,  between  the   banks  of  the  Loire  and 
those  of  the  Danube,  and  whose  bold  genius  having  by  turns 
startlec'  tLie  Franks,  the  Burgundians,  and  the  Lombards,  dis- 
puted the  future  supremacy  over  the  monastic  world  for  half 
a  century  with  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict.     And  it  is 
from  Clonard  that  we  now  await  another  great  saint  the  apostle 
of  the  same  name,  who,  restoring  and  extending  the   donia',%o- 
work  of  Ninian  and  Palladius,  was  to  conquer  Cale-  ^^^'^^'^^7 
donia  to  the  Christian  laith,  and  whose  sons  at  the 
destined  moment  were,  if  not  to  begin,  to  accomplish  and  com- 
plete the  difficult  conversion  of  the  Anglo-Saxons. 

"*  It  is  now  onlj'  a  village  on  the  shore  of  the  Bay  of  Belfast,  without  the 
■lighlest  vestige  of  the  famous  monastery. 


